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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10665-0.txt b/10665-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b87bc59 --- /dev/null +++ b/10665-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9458 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10665 *** + +LIFE, LETTERS + +AND + +EPICUREAN PHILOSOPHY + +OF + +NINON + +DE L'ENCLOS + +The Celebrated Beauty of the Seventeenth Century + + + +ROBINSON--OVERTON + + + + +1903 + + + + +CONTENTS + +LIFE OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +CHAPTER I + +Ninon de l'Enclos as a Standard + +CHAPTER II + +Considered as a Parallel + +CHAPTER III + +Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos + +CHAPTER IV + +The Morals of the Period + +CHAPTER V + +Ninon and Count de Coligny + +CHAPTER VI + +The "Birds" of the Tournelles + +CHAPTER VII + +Effect of Her Mother's Death + +CHAPTER VIII + +Her Increasing Popularity + +CHAPTER IX + +Ninon's Friendships + +CHAPTER X + +Some of Ninon's Lovers + +CHAPTER XI + +Ninon's Lovers (Continued) + +CHAPTER XII + +The Villarceaux Affair + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Marquis de Sévigné + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Family Tragedy + +CHAPTER XV + +Ninon's Bohemian Environments + +CHAPTER XVI + +A Remarkable Old Age + + + + +LETTERS TO THE MARQUIS DE SÉVIGNÉ + + +INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS +I--A Hazardous Undertaking +II--Why Love Is Dangerous +III--Why Love Grows Cold +IV--The Spice of Love +V--Love and Temper +VI--Certain Maxims Concerning Love +VII--Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo from Men +VIII--The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause +IX--Love Is a Natural Inclination +X--The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's Nature +XI--The Distinction Between Love and Friendship +XII--A Man in Love Is an Amusing Spectacle +XIII--Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love +XIV--Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in Love +XV--The Hidden Motives of Love +XVI--How to Be Victorious in Love +XVII--Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation +XVIII--When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of It +XIX--Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy +XX--The Half-way House to Love +XXI--The Comedy of Contrariness +XXII--Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to Love +XXIII--Two Irreconcilable Passions in Woman +XXIV--An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable +XXV--Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome +XXVI--Love Demands Freedom of Action +XXVII--The Heart Needs Constant Employment +XXVIII--Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance +XXIX--The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal +XXX--When Resistance is Only a Pretence +XXXI--The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la Sablière +XXXII--The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart +XXXIII--A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with Love +XXXIV--Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder +XXXV--The Heart Should Be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano +XXXVI--Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women +XXXVII--The Allurements of Stage Women +XXXVIII--Varieties of Resistance Are Essential +XXXIX--The True Value of Compliments Among Women +XL--Oratory and Fine Phrases Do Not Breed Love +XLI--Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor +XLII--Surface Indications in Women Are Not Always Guides +XLIII--Women Demand Respect +XLIV--Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's Opinion +XLV--What Favors Men Consider Faults +XLVI--Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice +XLVII--Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals +XLVIII--Friendship Must Be Firm +XLIX--Constancy Is a Virtue Among Narrow Minded +L--Some Women Are Very Cunning +LI--The Parts Men and Women Play +LII--Love Is a Traitor with Sharp Claws +LIII--Old Age Not a Preventive Against Attack +LIV--A Shrewd But Not an Unusual Scheme +LV--A Happy Ending + + * * * * * + +CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN LORD SAINT-EVREMOND AND NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +I--Lovers and Gamblers Have Something in Common +II--It Is Sweet to Remember Those We Have Loved +III--Wrinkles Are a Mark of Wisdom +IV--Near Hopes Are Worth as Much as Those Far Off +V--On the Death of De Charleval +VI--The Weariness of Monotony +VII--After the Death of La Duchesse de Mazarin +VIII--Love Banishes Old Age +IX--Stomachs Demand More Attention Than Minds +X--Why Does Love Diminish After Marriage? +XI--Few People Resist Age +XII--Age Has Some Consolations +XIII--Some Good Taste Still Exists in France +XIV--Superiority of the Pleasures of the Stomach +XV--Let the Heart Speak Its Own Language +XVI--The Memory of Youth +XVII--I Should Have Hanged Myself +XVIII--Life Is Joyous When It Is Without Sorrow +Letter to the Modern Leontium + + + + +NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +LIFE AND LETTERS + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The inner life of the most remarkable woman that ever lived is here +presented to American readers for the first time. Ninon, or +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, as she was known, was the most beautiful +woman of the seventeenth century. For seventy years she held +undisputed sway over the hearts of the most distinguished men of +France; queens, princes, noblemen, renowned warriors, statesmen, +writers, and scientists bowing before her shrine and doing her homage, +even Louis XIV, when she was eighty-five years of age, declaring that +she was the marvel of his reign. + +How she preserved her extraordinary beauty to so great an age, and +attracted to her side the greatest and most brilliant men of the +century, is told in her biography, which has been entirely re-written, +and new facts and incidents added that do not appear in the French +compilations. + +Her celebrated "Letters to the Marquis de Sévigné," newly translated, +and appearing for the first time in the United States, constitute the +most remarkable pathology of the female heart, its motives, objects, +and secret aspirations, ever penned. With unsparing hand she unmasks +the human heart and unveils the most carefully hidden mysteries of +femininity, and every one who reads these letters will see herself +depicted as in a mirror. + +At an early age she perceived the inequalities between the sexes, and +refused to submit to the injustice of an unfair distribution of human +qualities. After due deliberation, she suddenly announced to her +friends: "I notice that the most frivolous things are charged up to +the account of women, and that men have reserved to themselves the +right to all the essential qualities; from this moment I will be a +man." From that time--she was twenty years of age--until her death, +seventy years later, she maintained the character assumed by her, +exercised all the rights and privileges claimed by the male sex, and +created for herself, as the distinguished Abbé de Chateauneauf says, +"a place in the ranks of illustrious men, while preserving all the +grace of her own sex." + + + + +LIFE OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS + + + +CHAPTER I + +Ninon de l'Enclos as a Standard + + +To write the biography of so remarkable a woman as Ninon de l'Enclos +is to incur the animadversions of those who stand upon the dogma, that +whoso violates one of the Ten Commandments is guilty of violating them +all, particularly when one of the ten is conventionally selected as +the essential precept and the most important to be observed. It is +purely a matter of predilection or fancy, perhaps training and +environment may have something to do with it, though judgment is +wanting, but many will have it so, and hence, they arrive at the +opinion that the end of the controversy has been reached. + +Fortunately for the common sense of mankind, there are others who +repudiate this rigid rule and excuse for human conduct; who refuse to +accept as a pattern of morality, the Sabbath breaker, tyrant, +oppressor of the poor, the grasping money maker, or charity monger, +even though his personal chastity may entitle him to canonization. +These insist that although Ninon de l'Enclos may have persistently +transgressed one of the precepts of the Decalogue, she is entitled to +great consideration because of her faithful observance of the others, +not only in their letter but in their spirit, and that her life +contains much that is serviceable to humanity, in many more ways than +if she had studiously preserved her personal purity to the sacrifice +of other qualities, which are of as equal importance as virtues, and +as essential to be observed. + +Another difficulty in the way of establishing her as a model of any +kind, on account of her deliberate violations of the sixth precept of +the Decalogue, is the fact that she was not of noble birth, held no +official position in the government of France, either during the +regency or under the reign of Louis XIII, but was a private person, +retiring in her habits, faithful in her liaisons and friendships, +delicate and refined in her manners and conversations, and eagerly +sought for her wisdom, philosophy, and intellectual ability. + +Had she been a Semiramis, a Messalina, an Agrippina, a Catherine II, +or even a Lady Hamilton, the glamor of her exalted political position +might have covered up a multitude of gross, vulgar practices, +cruelties, barbarities, oppressions, crimes, and acts of +misgovernment, and have concealed her spiritual deformity beneath the +grandeur of her splendid public vices and irregularities. The mantle +of royalty and nobility, like dipsomania, excuses a multitude of sins, +hypocrisy, and injustice, and inclines the world to overlook, +disregard, or even condone, what in them is considered small vices, +eccentricities of genius, but which in a private person are magnified +into mountains of viciousness, and call forth an army of well meaning +but inconsistent people to reform them by brute force. + +It is time to interpose an impasse to the further spread of this +misapprehension of the nature and consequences of human acts, and to +demonstrate the possibility, in humble walks of life, of virtues worth +cultivating, and to erect models out of those who, while they may be +derelict in their ethical duties, are still worthy of being imitated +in other respects. Our standards and patterns of morality are so high +as to be unattainable, not in the details of the practice of virtue, +but in the personnel of the model. Royal and noble blood permeated +with the odor of sanctity; virtuous statesmanship, or proud political +position attained through the rigid observance of the ethical rules of +personal purity, are nothing to the rank and file, the polloi, who can +never hope to reach those elevations in this world; as well expatiate +upon the virtues of Croesus to a man who will never go beyond his +day's wages, or expect the homeless to become ecstatic over the +magnificence of Nabuchodonosor's Babylonian palace. Such extremes +possess no influence over the ordinary mind, they are the mere +vanities of the conceited, the mistakes of moralists. + +The history of Ninon de l'Enclos stands out from the pages of history +as a pre-eminent character, before which all others are stale, +whatever their pretensions through position and grandeur, +notwithstanding that one great quality so much admired in +women--womanly purity--was entirely wanting in her conduct through +life. + +While no apology can be effectual to relieve her memory from that one +stigma, the other virtues connected with it, and which she possessed +in superabundance, deserve a close study, inasmuch as the trend of +modern society is in the direction of the philosophical principles and +precepts, which justified her in pursuing the course of life she +preferred to all others. She was an ardent disciple of the Epicurean +philosophy, but in her adhesion to its precepts, she added that +altruistic unselfishness so much insisted upon at the present day. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Considered as a Parallel + + +The birth of Ninon de l'Enclos was not heralded by salvoes of +artillery, Te Deums, or such other demonstrations of joy as are +attendant upon the arrival on earth of princes and offspring of great +personages. Nevertheless, for the ninety years she occupied the stage +of life, she accomplished more in the way of shaping great national +policies, successful military movements and brilliant diplomatic +successes, than any man or body of men in the seventeenth century. + +In addition to that, her genius left an impress upon music and the +fine arts, an impress so profound that the high standard of excellence +both have attained in our day is due to her efforts in establishing a +solid foundation upon which it was possible to erect a substantial +structure. Moreover, in her hands and under her auspices and guidance, +languages, belles lettres, and rhetoric received an impetus toward +perfection, and raised the French language and its literature, +fiction, poetry and drama, to so high a standard, that its productions +are the models of the twentieth century. + +It was Ninon de l'Enclos whose brilliant mentality and intellectual +genius formed the minds, the souls, the genius, of such master minds +as Saint-Evremond, La Rouchefoucauld, Molière, Scarron, La Fontaine, +Fontenelle, and a host of others in literature and fine arts; the +Great Condé, de Grammont, de Sévigné, and the flower of the chivalry +of France, in war, politics, and diplomacy. Even Richelieu was not +unaffected by her influence. + +Strange power exerted by one frail woman, a woman not of noble birth, +with only beauty, sweetness of disposition, amiability, goodness, and +brilliant accomplishments as her weapons! It was not a case of the +moth and the flame, but the operation of a wise philosophy, the +precepts of which were decently, moderately and carefully inculcated; +a philosophy upon the very edge of which modern society is hanging, +afraid to accept openly, through too much attachment to ancient +doctrines which have drawn man away from happiness and comfort, and +converted him into a bitter pessimism that often leads to despair. + +As has already been suggested, had Ninon de l'Enclos sat upon a +throne, or commanded an army, the pages of history would teem with the +renown of her exploits, and great victories be awarded to her instead +of to those who would have met with defeat without her inspiration. + +Pompey, in his vanity, declared that he could raise an army by +stamping his foot upon the ground, but the raising of Ninon de +l'Enclos' finger could bring all the chivalry of Europe around a +single standard, or at the same gentle signal, cause them to put aside +their arms and forget everything but peace and amity. She dominated +the intellectual geniuses of the long period during which she lived, +and reigned over them as their absolute queen, through the sheer force +of her personal charms, which she never hesitated to bestow upon those +whom she found worthy, and who expressed a desire to possess them, +studiously regulated, however, by the precepts and principles of the +philosophy of Epicurus, which today is rapidly gaining ground in our +social relations through its better understanding and appreciation. + +Her life bears a great resemblance to the histories in which we read +about the most celebrated women of ancient times, who occupied a +middle station between the condition of marriage and prostitution--a +class of women whose Greek name is familiarized to our ears in +translations of Aristophanes. Ninon de l'Enclos was of the order of +the French "hetaerae," and, as by her beauty and her talents, she +attained the first rank in the social class, her name has come down to +posterity with those of Aspasia and Leontium, while the less +distinguished favorites of less celebrated men have shared the common +oblivion, which hides from the memory of men, every degree of +mediocrity, whether of virtue or vice. + +A class of this kind, a status of this singular nature existing +amongst accomplished women, who inspired distinguished men with lofty +ideals, and developed the genius of men who, otherwise, would have +remained in obscurity, can never be uninteresting or uninstructive; +indeed, it must afford matter for serious study. They are prefigures, +or prototypes of the influence that aims to sway mankind at the +present day in government, politics, literature, and the fine arts. + +As a distinguished example of such a class, the most prominent in the +world, in fact, apart from a throne, Ninon de l'Enclos will peculiarly +engage the attention of all who, whether for knowledge or amusement, +are observers of human nature under all its varieties and +circumstances. + +It would be idle to enter upon a historical digression on the state of +female manners in ancient Athens, or in Europe during the last three +centuries. The reader should discard them from his mind when he +peruses the life of Ninon de l'Enclos, and examine her character and +environments from every point of view as a type toward which is +trending modern social conditions. + +At first blush, and to a narrow intellect, an individual woman of the +character of Ninon de l'Enclos would seem hopelessly lost to all +virtue, abandoned by every sense of shame, and irreclaimable to any +feeling of social or private duty. But only at first blush, and to the +most circumscribed of narrow minds, who, fortunately, do not control +the policy of mankind, although occasional disorders here and there +indicate that they are endeavouring to do so. + +A large majority of mankind are of the settled opinion that every +virtue is bound up in that of chastity. Our manners and customs, our +laws, most of our various kinds of religions, our national sentiments +and feelings--all our most serious opinions, as well as our dearest +and best rooted prejudices, forbid the dissevering, in the minds of +women of any class, the ideas of virtue and female honor. That is, +our public opinion is along that line. To raise openly a doubt on this +head, or to disturb, on a point considered so vital, the settled +notions of society, is equally inconsistent with common prudence and +the policy of common honesty; and as tending to such an end, we are +apt to consider all discussion on the subject as at least officiously +incurring danger, without an opportunity of inculcating good. + +But, however strongly we insist upon this opinion for such purposes, +there are others in which it is not useless to relax that severity for +a moment, and to view the question, not through the medium of +sentiment, but with an eye of philosophic impartiality. We are +gradually nearing the point, where it is conceded that in certain +conditions of society, one failing is not wholly incompatible with a +general practice of virtue--a remark to be met with in every homily +since homilies were written, notwithstanding that rigid rule already +alluded to in the previous chapter. + +It is surprising that it has never occurred to any moralist of the +common order, who deals chiefly with such general reflections, to +apply this particular maxim to this particular social status. We +follow the wise precepts of honesty found in Cicero, although we know +that he was, at the time he was writing them, plundering his fellow +men at every opportunity. Our admiration for Bacon's philosophy and +wisdom reaches adulation although he was the "meanest of men," and was +guilty of the most flagrant crimes such as judicial bribery and +political corruption. We read that Aspasia had some great and many +amiable qualities; so too had Ninon de l'Enclos; and it is worthy of +consideration, how far we judge candidly or wisely in condemning such +characters in gross, and treating their virtues as Saint Austin was +wont to deal with those of his heathen adversaries, as no better than +"splendid vices," so unparalleled in their magnitude as to become +virtues by the operation of the law of extremes. There was no law +permitting a man to marry his sister, and there was no law forbidding +King Cambyses to do as he liked. + +Another grave point to be considered is this: The world, as it now +stands, its laws, systems of government, manners and customs, and +social conditions, have been built up on these same "splendid vices," +and whenever they have been tamed into subjection to mediocrity--let +us say to clerical, or ecclesiastical domination;--government, society +and morals have retrograded. The social condition in France during +Ninon de l'Enclos' time, and in England during the reign of Charles +II, is startling evidence of this accusation. Moreover, it is fast +becoming the condition to-day, a fact indicated by the almost +universal demand for a revolution in social ethics, the foundation to +which, for some reason, has become awry, threatening to topple down +the structure erected upon it. Society can see nothing to originate, +an incalculable number of attempts to better human conditions always +proving failures, and worsening the human status. It is dawning upon +the minds of the true lovers of humanity, that there is nothing else +to be done, but to revert to the past to find the key to any possible +reform, and to that past we are edging rapidly, though, it must be +said unwillingly, in the hope and expectation that the old foundations +are possessed of sufficient solidity to support a new or re-modeled +structure. + +The life of Ninon de l'Enclos, upon this very point, furnishes food +for profitable reflection, inasmuch as it gives an insight into the +great results to be obtained by the following of the precepts of an +ancient philosophy which seems to have survived the clash of ages of +intellectual and moral warfare, and to have demonstrated its capacity +to supply defects in segregated dogmatic systems wholly incapable of +any syncretic tendencies. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos + + +Anne de l'Enclos, or "Ninon," as she has always been familiarly called +by the world at large, was born at Paris in 1615. What her parents +were, or what her family, is a matter of little consequence. To all +persons who have attained celebrity over the route pursued by her, +original rank and station are not of the least moment. By force of his +genius in hewing for himself a niche in history, Napoleon was truly +his own ancestor, as it is said he loved to remark pleasantly. So with +Ninon de l'Enclos, the novelty of the career she laid out for herself +to follow, and did follow until the end with unwavering constancy, +justifies us in regarding her as the head of a new line, or dynasty. + +In the case of mighty conquerors, whose path was strewn with violence, +even lust, no one thinks of an ignoble origin as in any manner +derogatory to the eminence; on the contrary, it is considered rather +as matter to be proud of; the idea that out of ignominy, surrounded by +conditions devoid of all decency, justice, and piety, an individual +can elevate himself up to the highest pinnacle of human power and +glory, has always, and will always be regarded as an example to be +followed, and the badge of success stretched to cover the means of +its attainment. This is the universal custom where success has been +attained, the failures being relegated to a well merited oblivion as +unworthy of consideration either as lessons of warning or for any +purpose. Our youth are very properly taught only the lessons of +success. + +It is in evidence that Ninon's father was a gentleman of Touraine and +connected, through his wife, with the family of Abra de Raconis, a +race of no mean repute in the Orleanois, and that he was an +accomplished gentleman occupying a high position in society. Voltaire, +however, declares that Ninon had no claim to a parentage of such +distinction; that the rank of her mother was too obscure to deserve +any notice, and that her father's profession was of no higher dignity +than that of a teacher of the lute. This account is not less likely, +from the remarkable proficiency acquired by Ninon, at an early age, in +the use of that instrument. + +It is equally certain, however, that Ninon's parents were not obscure, +and that her father was a man of many accomplishments, one of which +was his skill as a performer on the lute. A fact which may have +induced Voltaire to mistake one of his talents for his regular +profession. + +Ninon's parents were as opposite in sentiments and disposition as the +Poles of the earth. Madame de l'Enclos was a prudent, pious Christian +mother, who endeavored to inspire her daughter with the same pious +sentiments which pervaded her own heart. The fact is that the mother +attempted to prepare her daughter for a conventual life, a profession +at that period of the highest honor, and one that led to preferment, +not only in religious circles, but in the world of society. At that +time, conventual and monastic dignitaries occupied a prominent place +in the formation of public and private manners and customs, and if not +regarded impeccable, their opinions were always considered valuable in +state matters of the greatest moment, even the security of thrones, +the welfare and peace of nations sometimes depending upon their +wisdom, judgment, and decisions. + +With this laudable object in view, Madame de l'Enclos carefully +trained her daughter in the holy exercises of her religion, to which +she hoped to consecrate her entire life. But the fond mother met with +an impasse, an insurmountable obstacle, in the budding Ninon herself, +who, even in the temples of the Most High, when her parent imagined +her to be absorbed in the contemplation of saintly things, and +imbibing inspiration from her "Hours," the "Lives of the Saints," or +"An Introduction to a Holy Life," a book very much in vogue at that +period, the child would be devouring such profane books as Montaigne, +Scarron's romances and Epicurus, as more in accordance with her trend +of mind. + +Even at the early age of twelve years, she had mastered those authors, +and had laid out a course of life, not in accord with her good +mother's ideas, for it excluded the idea of religion as commonly +understood, and crushed out the sentiment of maternity, that crowning +glory to which nearly all young female children aspire, although in +them, at a tender age, it is instinctive and not based upon knowledge +of its meaning. + +This beginning of Ninon's departure from the beaten path should not be +a matter of surprise, for all the young open their hearts to ideas +that spring from the sentiments and passions, and anticipate in +imagination the parts they are to play in the tragedy or comedy of +life. + +It is this period of life which the moralist and educator justly +contend should be carefully guarded. It is really a concession to +environment, and a tacit argument against radical heredity as the +foundation upon which rest the character and disposition of the adult, +and which is the mainspring of his future moral conduct. It is +impossible to philosophize ourselves out of this sensible position. + +In the case of Ninon, there was her mother, a woman of undoubted +virtue and exemplary piety, following the usual path in the training +of her only child and making a sad failure of it, or at least not +making any impression on the object of her solicitude. This was, +however, not due to the mother's intentions: her training was too weak +to overcome that coming from another quarter. It has been said that +Ninon's father and mother were as opposite as the Poles in character +and disposition, and Ninon was suspended like a pendulum to swing +between two extremes, one of which had to prevail, for there was no +midway stopping place. It may be that the disciple of heredity, the +opponent of environment will perceive in the result a strong argument +in favor of his view of humanity. Be that as it may, Ninon swung away +from the extreme of piety represented by her mother, and was caught at +the other extreme by the less intellectually monotonous ideas of her +father. There was no mental conflict in the young mind, nothing +difficult; on the contrary, she accepted his ideas as pleasanter and +less conducive to pain and discomfort. Too young to reason, she +perceived a flowery pathway, followed it, and avoided the thorny one +offered her by her mother. + +Monsieur de l'Enclos was an Epicurean of the most advanced type. +According to him, the whole philosophy of life, the entire scheme of +human ethics as evolved from Epicurus, could be reduced to the four +following canons: + +First--That pleasure which produces no pain is to be embraced. + +Second--That pain which produces no pleasure is to be avoided. + +Third--That pleasure is to be avoided which prevents a greater +pleasure, or produces a greater pain. + +Fourth--That pain is to be endured which averts a greater pain, or +secures a greater pleasure. + +The last canon is the one that has always appealed to the religious +sentiments, and it is the one which has enabled an army of martyrs to +submit patiently to the most excruciating torments, to reach the +happiness of Paradise, the pleasure contemplated as a reward for +enduring the frightful pain. The reader can readily infer, however, +from his daily experiences with the human family, that this +construction is seldom put upon this canon, the world at large, +viewing it from the Epicurean interpretation, which meant earthly +pleasures, or the purely sensual enjoyments. It is certain that +Ninon's father did not construe any of these canons according to the +religious idea, but followed the commonly accepted version, and +impressed them upon his young daughter's mind in all their various +lights and shades. + +Imbibing such philosophy from her earliest infancy, the father taking +good care to press them deep into her plastic mind, it is not +astonishing that Ninon should discard the more distasteful fruits to +be painfully harvested by following her mother's tuition, and accept +the easily gathered luscious golden fruit offered her by her father. +Like all children and many adults, the glitter and the tinsel of the +present enjoyment were too powerful and seductive to be resisted, or +to be postponed for a problematic pleasure. + +The very atmosphere which surrounded the young girl, and which she +soon learned to breathe in deep, pleasurable draughts, was surcharged +with the intoxicating oxygen of freedom of action, liberality, and +unrestrained enjoyment. While still very young she was introduced into +a select society of the choicest spirits of the age and speedily +became their idol, a position she continued to occupy without +diminution for over sixty years. No one of all these men of the world +had ever seen so many personal graces united to so much +intellectuality and good taste. Ninon's form was as symmetrical, +elegant and yielding as a willow; her complexion of a dazzling white, +with large sparkling eyes as black as midnight, and in which reigned +modesty and love, and reason and voluptuousness. Her teeth were like +pearls, her mouth mobile and her smile most captivating, resistless +and adorable. She was the personification of majesty without pride or +haughtiness, and possessed an open, tender and touching countenance +upon which shone friendship and affection. Her voice was soft and +silvery, her arms and hands superb models for a sculptor, and all her +movements and gestures manifested an exquisite, natural grace which +made her conspicuous in the most crowded drawing-room. As she was in +her youth, so she continued to be until her death at the age of ninety +years, an incredible fact but so well attested by the gravest and most +reliable writers, who testify to the truth of it, that there is no +room for doubt. Ninon attributed it not to any miracle, but to her +philosophy, and declared that any one might exhibit the same +peculiarities by following the same precepts. We have it on the most +undoubted testimony of contemporaneous writers, who were intimate with +him, that one of her dearest friends and followers, Saint-Evremond, at +the age of eighty-nine years, inspired one of the famous beauties of +the English Court with an ardent attachment. + +The beauties of her person were so far developed at the age of twelve +years, that she was the object of the most immoderate admiration on +the part of men of the greatest renown, and her beauty is embalmed in +their works either as a model for the world, or she is enshrined in +song, poetry, and romance as the heroine. + +In fact Ninon had as tutors the most distinguished men of the age, who +vied with one another in embellishing her young mind with all the +graces, learning and accomplishments possible for the human mind to +contain. Her native brightness and active mind absorbed everything +with an almost supernatural rapidity and tact, and it was not long +before she became their peer, and her qualities of mind reached out so +far beyond theirs in its insatiable longing, that she, in her turn, +became their tutor, adviser and consoler, as well as their tender +friend. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The Morals of the Period + + +Examples of the precocious talents displayed by Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos are not uncommon in the twentieth century, but the +application she made of them was remarkable and uncommon. Accomplished +in music, learned and proficient in the languages, a philosopher of no +small degree, and of a personal beauty sometimes called "beauté de +diable," she appeared upon the social stage at a time when a new idol +was an imperative necessity for the salvation of moral sanity, and the +preservation of some remnants of personal decency in the sexual +relations. + +Cardinal Richelieu had just succeeded in consolidating the usurpations +of the royal prerogatives on the rights of the nobility and the +people, which had been silently advancing during the preceding reigns, +and was followed by the long period of unexampled misgovernment, which +oppressed and impoverished as well as degraded every rank and every +order of men in the French kingdom, ceasing only with the Revolution. + +The great Cardinal minister had built worse than he had intended, it +is to be hoped; for his clerico-political system had practically +destroyed French manhood, and left society without a guiding star to +cement the rope of sand he had spun. Unable to subject the master +minds among the nobility to its domination, ecclesiasticism had +succeeded in destroying them by augmenting royal prerogatives which it +could control with less difficulty. Public maxims of government, +connected as they were with private morals, had debauched the nation, +and plunged it into a depth of degradation out of which Richelieu and +his whole entourage of clerical reformers could not extricate a single +individual. It was a riot of theological morality. + +The whole body of the French nobility and the middle class of citizens +were reduced to a servile attendance on the court, as the only means +of advancement and reward. Every species of industry and merit in +these classes was sedulously discouraged; and the motive of honorable +competition for honorable things, being withdrawn, no pursuit or +occupation was left them but the frivolous duties, or the degrading +pleasures of the palace. + +Next to the king, the women naturally became the first objects of +their effeminate devotion; and it is difficult to say which were +soonest corrupted by courtiers consummate in the arts of adulation, +and unwearied in their exercise. The sovereign rapidly degenerated +into an accomplished despot, and the women into intriguers and +coquettes. Richelieu had indeed succeeded in subjecting the State to +the rule of the Church, but Ninon was destined to play an important +part in modifying the evils which afflicted society, and at least +elevate its tone. From the methods she employed to effect this +change, it may be suspected that the remedy was equivalent to the +Hanemannic maxim: "Similia similbus curantur," a strange application +of a curative agent in a case of moral decrepitude, however valuable +and effective it may be in physical ailments. + +The world of the twentieth century, bound up as it is in material +progress, refuses to limit its objects and aims to the problematic +enjoyment of the pleasures of Paradise in the great hereafter, or of +suffering with stoicism the pains and misfortunes of this earth as a +means of avoiding the problematic pains of Hell. Future rewards and +punishments are no longer incentives to virtue or right living. The +only drag upon human acts of every kind is now that great political +maxim, the non-observance of which has often deluged the earth with +blood; "Sic utere tuo ut alienum non laedas," which is to say: So use +thine own as not to injure thy neighbor. It is a conventional +principle, one of contract in reality, but it has become a great +doctrine of equity and justice, and it is inculcated by our +educational systems to the exclusion of the purely religious idea, and +the elimination of religious dogma, which tends to oppressive +restraints, is carefully fostered. + +There is another reason why men's minds are impelled away from the +purely sentimental moral doctrines insisted upon by sectarianism, +which is ecclesiasticism run riot, and the higher the education the +deeper we delve into the secret motives of that class of mankind, the +deceptive outward appearances of which dominate the pages of history, +which is, that the greatest and most glorious systems of government, +the wisest and most powerful of rulers, the greatest and most liberal +statesmen, heroes, and conspicuous conquerors, originated in +violations of the Decalogue, and those nations and kingdoms which have +been founded upon strictly ecclesiastical ideas, have all sunk beneath +the shifting sands of time, or have become so degenerate as to be +bywords and objects of derision. + +From the same viewpoint, a strange phenomenon is observable in the +world of literature, arts, and sciences. The brightest, greatest +geniuses, whose works are pointed to with admiration; studied as +models and standards, made the basis of youthful education, imitated, +and even wept over by the sentimental, were, in their private lives, +persons of the most depraved morals. Why this should be the case, it +is impossible even to conjecture, the fact only remaining that it is +so. Perhaps there are so many different standards of morality, that +humanity, weary of the eternal bickering consequent upon the conflicts +entered into for their enforcement, have made for themselves a new +interpretation which they find less difficult to observe, and find +more peace and pleasure in following. + +To take a further step in the same direction, it is curious that in +the lives of the Saints, those who spent their whole earthly existence +in abstinence, works of the severest penance, and mortifications of +the flesh, the tendency of demoniac influence was never in the +direction of Sabbath breaking, profanity, idolatry, robbery, murder +and covetousness, but always exerted itself to the fullest extent of +its power in attacks upon chastity. All other visions were absent in +the hair-shirted, and self-scourgings brought out nothing but sexual +idealities, sensual temptations. The reason for this peculiarity is +not far to seek. What is dominant in the minds always finds egress +when a favorable opportunity is presented, and the very thought of +unchastity as something to be avoided, leads to its contemplation, or +its creation in the form of temptation. The virtue of chastity was the +one law, and its observances and violations were studied from every +point of view, and its numberless permissible and forbidden +limitations expatiated upon to such a degree, that he who escaped them +altogether could well attribute the result to the interposition of +some supernatural power, the protection of some celestial guardian. +One is reminded of the expression of St. Paul: "I had not known lust +had the law not said: thou shalt not covet." Lord Beaconsfield's +opinion was, that excessive piety led to sexual disorders. + +According to Ninon's philosophy, whatever tended to propagate +immoderation in the sexual relations was rigidly eliminated, and +chastity placed upon the same plane and in the same grade as other +moral precepts, to be wisely controlled, regulated, and managed. She +put all her morality upon the same plane, and thereby succeeded in +equalizing corporeal pleasure, so that the entire scale of human acts +produced a harmonious equality of temperament, whence goodness and +virtue necessarily followed, the pathway being unobstructed. + +It is too much to be expected, or even to be hoped for, that there +will ever be any unanimity among moral reformers, or any uniformity in +their standards of moral excellence. The educated world of the present +day, reading between the lines of ancient history, and some that is +not so very ancient, see ambition for place and power as the moving +cause, the inspiration behind the great majority of revolutions, and +they have come to apply the same construction to the great majority of +moral agitations and movements for the reform of morals and the +betterment of humanity, with pecuniary reward or profit, however, +added as the sine qua non of maintaining them. + +Cure the agitation by removing the occasion for it, and Othello's +occupation would be gone; hence, the agitation continues. As an +eminent theologian declared with a conviction that went home to a +multitude, at the Congress of Religions, when the Columbian Exposition +was in operation: + +"If all the religions in the world are to be merged into one, who, or +what will support the clergy that will be deprived of their salaries +by the change in management?" + +The Golden Calf and Aaron were there, but where was the angry Moses? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Ninon and Count de Coligny + + +It was impossible for a maiden trained in the philosophy of Epicurus, +and surrounded by a brilliant society who assiduously followed its +precepts to avoid being caught in the meshes of the same net spread +for other women. Beloved and even idolized on all sides, as an object +that could be worshiped without incurring the displeasure of +Richelieu, who preferred his courtiers to amuse themselves with women +and gallantries rather than meddle with state affairs, and being +disposed both through inclination and training to accept the +situation, Ninon felt the sentiments of the tender passion, but +philosophically waited for a worthy object. + +That object appeared in the person of the young Gaspard, Count de +Coligny, afterwards Duc de Chatillon, who paid her assiduous court. +The result was that Ninon conceived a violent passion for the Count, +which she could not resist, in fact did not care to resist, and she +therefore yielded to the young man of distinguished family, charming +manners, and a physically perfect specimen of manhood. + +It is alleged by Voltaire and repeated by Cardinal de Retz, that the +early bloom of Ninon's charms was enjoyed by Richelieu, but if this be +true, it is more than likely that Ninon submitted through policy and +not from any affection for the great Cardinal. It is certain, however, +that the great statesman's attention had been called to her growing +influence among the French nobility, and that he desired to control +her actions if not to possess her charms. She was a tool that he +imagined he could utilize to keep his rebellious nobles in his leash. +Abbé Raconis, Ninon's uncle, and the Abbé Boisrobert, her friend, who +stood close to the Cardinal, had suggested to His Eminence that the +charms of the new beauty could be used to advantage in state affairs, +and he accordingly sent for her at first through curiosity, but when +he had seen her he hoped to control her for his personal benefit. + +Although occupied in vast projects which his great genius and activity +always conducted to a happy issue, the great man had not renounced the +affections of his human nature, nor his intellectual gratifications. +He aimed at everything, and did not consider anything beneath his +dignity. Every day saw him engaged in cultivating a taste for +literature and art, and some moments of every day were set apart for +social gallantries. When it came to the art of pleasing and attracting +women, we have the word of Cardinal de Retz for it, that he was not +always successful. Perhaps it is only inferior minds who possess the +art and the genius of seduction. + +The intriguing Abbé, in order to bring Ninon under the influence of +his master, and to charm her with the great honor done her by a man +upon whom were fixed the eyes of all Europe, prepared a series of +gorgeous fêtes, banquets and entertainments at the palace at Rueil. +But Ninon was not in the least overwhelmed, and refused to hear the +sighs of the great man. Hoping to inspire jealousy, he affected to +love Marion de Lormes, a proceeding which gave Ninon great pleasure as +it relieved her from the importunities of the Cardinal. The end of it +was, that Richelieu gave up the chase and left Ninon in peace to +follow her own devices in her own way. + +Whatever may have been the relations between Ninon and Cardinal +Richelieu, it is certain that the Count de Coligny was her first +sentimental attachment, and the two lovers, in the first intoxication +of their love, swore eternal constancy, a process common to all new +lovers and believed possible to maintain. It was not long, however, +before Ninon perceived that the first immoderate transports of love +gradually lost their activity, and by applying the precepts of her +philosophy to explain the phenomenon, came to regard love by its +effects, as a blind mechanical movement, which it was the policy of +men to ennoble according to the conventional rules of decency and +honor, to the exclusion of its original meaning. + +After coldly reasoning the matter out to its only legitimate +conclusion, she tore off the mask covering a metaphysical love, which +could not reach or satisfy the light of intelligence or the sentiments +and emotions of the heart, and which appeared to her to possess as +little reality as the enchanted castles, marvels of magic, and +monsters depicted in poetry and romance. To her, love finally became a +mere thirst, and a desire for pleasure to be gratified by indulgence +like all other pleasure. The germ of philosophy already growing in her +soul, found nothing in this discovery that was essentially unnatural; +on the contrary, it was essentially natural. It was clear to her +logical mind, that a passion like love produced among men different +effects according to different dispositions, humors, temperament, +education, interest, vanity, principles, or circumstances, without +being, at the same time, founded upon anything more substantial than a +disguised, though ardent desire of possession, the essential of its +existence, after which it vanished as fire disappears through lack of +fuel. Dryden, the celebrated English poetic and literary genius, +reaches the same opinion in his Letters to Clarissa. + +Having reached this point in her reasoning, she advanced a step +further, and considered the unequal division of qualities distributed +between the two sexes. She perceived the injustice of it and refused +to abide by it. "I perceive," she declared, "that women are charged +with everything that is frivolous, and that men reserve to themselves +the right to essential qualities. From this moment I shall be a man." + +All this growing out of the ardour of a first love, which is always +followed by the lassitude of satiety, so far from causing Ninon any +tears of regret, nerved her up to a philosophy different from that of +other women, and makes it impossible to judge her by the same +standard. She can not be considered a woman subject to a thousand +fantasies and whims, a thousand trifling concealed proprieties of +position and custom. Her morals became the same as those of the wisest +and noblest men of the period in which she lived, and raised her to +their rank instead of maintaining her in the category of the +intriguing coquettes of her age. + +It is not improbable that her experience of the suffering attendant +upon the decay of such attachments, a suffering alluded to by those +who contemplate only the intercourse of the sexes through the medium +of poetry and sentiment, had considerable influence in determining her +future conduct. At an early age, following upon her liaison with Count +Coligny, she adopted the determination she adhered to during the rest +of her life, of retaining so much only of the female character as was +forced upon her by nature and the insuperable laws of society. Acting +on this principle, her society was chiefly composed of persons of her +adopted sex, of whom the most celebrated of their time made her house +a constant place of meeting. + +A curious incident in her relations with Count de Coligny was her +success in persuading him to adjure the errors of the Huguenots and +return to the Roman Catholic Church. She had no religious +predilections, feeling herself spiritually secure in her philosophic +principles, but sought only his welfare and advancement. His obstinacy +was depriving him of the advantages due his birth and personal merit. +Considering that Ninon was scarcely sixteen years of age, respiring +nothing but love and pleasure, to effect by tenderness and the +persuasive strength of her reasoning powers, such a change in a man +so obstinate as the Count de Coligny, in an obstinate and excessively +bigoted age, was something unique in the history of lovers of that +period. Women then cared very little for religious principles, and +rarely exerted themselves in advancing the cause of the dominant +religion, much less thought of the spiritual needs of their favorites. +The reverse is the rule in these modern times, when women are the most +ardent and persistent proselytizers of the various sects, a custom +which recalls the remark of a distinguished lawyer who failed to +recover any assets from a notorious bankrupt he was pursuing for the +defrauded creditors: "This man has everything in his wife's name--even +his religion." + +Ninon's disinterested counsel prevailed, and the Count afterward +abjured his errors, becoming the Duc de Chatillon, Marquis d'Andelot, +and died a lieutenant general, bravely fighting for his country, at +Charenton. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The "Birds" of the Tournelles + + +Having decided upon her career, Ninon converted her property into +prudent and safe securities, and purchased a city house in the Rue des +Tournelles au Marais, a locality at that time the center of +fashionable society, and another for a summer residence at Picpusse, +in the environs of Paris. A select society of wits and gallant +chevaliers soon gathered around her, and it required influence as well +as merit to gain an entrance into its ranks. Among this élite were +Count de Grammont, Saint-Evremond, Chapelle, Molière, Fontenelle, and +a host of other no less distinguished characters, most of them +celebrated in literature, arts, sciences, and war. Ninon christened +the society "Oiseaux des Tournelles," an appellation much coveted by +the beaux and wits of Paris, and which distinguished the chosen +company from the less favored gentlemen of the great metropolis. + +Among those who longed for entrance into this charming society of +choice spirits was the Count de Charleval, a polite and accomplished +chevalier, indeed, but of no particular standing as a literary +character. Nothing would do, however, but a song of triumph as a test +of his competency and he accomplished it after much labor and +consumption of midnight oil. Scarron has preserved the first stanza +in his literary works, the others being lost to the literary world, +perhaps with small regret. The sentiments expressed in the first +stanza rescued from oblivion will be sufficient to indicate the +character of the others: + +"Je ne suis plus oiseau des champs, +Mais de ces oiseaux des Tournelles +Qui parlent d'amour en tout temps, +Et qui plaignent les tourterelles +De ne se baiser qu'au printemps." + +Which liberally translated into English will run substantially as +follows: + +No more am I a wild bird on the wing, +But one of the birds of the Towers, who +The love in their hearts always sing, +And pity the poor Turtle Doves that coo +And never kiss only in spring. + +Scarron alludes to the delicacy of the Count's taste and the +refinement of his wit, by saying of him: "The muses brought him up on +blanc mange and chicken broth." + +How Ninon kept together this remarkable coterie can best be understood +by an incident unparalleled in female annals. The Count de Fièsque, +one of the most accomplished nobles of the French court, had it +appears, grown tired of an attachment of long standing between Ninon +and himself, before the passion of the former had subsided. A letter, +containing an account of his change of sentiments, with reasons +therefor, was presented his mistress, while employed at her toilette +in adjusting her hair, which was remarkable for its beauty and +luxuriance, and which she regarded as the apple of her eye. Afflicted +by the unwelcome intelligence, she cut off half of her lovely tresses +on the impulse of the moment, and sent them as her answer to the +Count's letter. Struck by this unequivocal proof of the sincerity of +her devotion to him, the Count returned to his allegiance to a +mistress so devoted, and thenceforward retained it until she herself +wearied of it and desired a change. + +As an illustration of her sterling honesty in money matters and her +delicate manner of ending a liaison, the following anecdote will serve +to demonstrate the hold she was able to maintain upon her admirers. + +M. de Gourville, an intimate friend of Ninon's, adhered in the wars of +the Fronde to the party of the Prince of Condé, one of the "Birds of +the Tournelles." Compelled to quit Paris, to avoid being hanged in +person, as he was in effigy, he divided the care of a large sum of +ready money between Ninon de l'Enclos and the Grand Pénitencier of +Notre Dame. The money was deposited in two caskets. On his return from +exile, he applied to the priest for the return of his money, but to +his astonishment, all knowledge of the deposit was denied, and that if +any such deposit had been made, it was destined for charitable +purposes under the rules of the Pénitencier, and had most probably +been distributed among the poor of Paris. De Gourville protested in +vain, and when he threatened to resort to forcible means, the power +of the church was invoked to compel him to abandon his attempt. So +cruelly disappointed in a man whom all Paris deemed incorruptibly +honest, de Gourville suspected nothing else from Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos. It was absurd to hope for probity in a woman of +reprehensible habits when that virtue was absent in a man who lived a +life of such austerity as the Grand Pénitencier, hence he determined +to abstain from visiting her altogether, lest he might hate the woman +he had so fondly loved. + +Ninon, however, had other designs, and learning that he had returned, +sent him a pressing invitation to call upon her. + +"Ah! Gourville," she exclaimed as soon as he appeared, "a great +misfortune has happened me in consequence of your absence." + +That settled the matter in de Gourville's mind, his money was gone and +he was a pauper. Plunged in mournful reflections, de Gourville dared +not raise his eyes to those of his mistress. But she, mistaking his +agitation, went on hastily: + +"I am sorry if you still love me, for I have lost my love for you, and +though I have found another with whom I am happy, I have not forgotten +you. Here," she continued, turning to her escritoire, "here are the +twenty thousand crowns you intrusted to me when you departed. Take +them, my friend, but do not ask anything from a heart which is no +longer disposed in your favor. There is nothing left but the most +sincere friendship." + +Astonished at the contrast between her conduct and that of her +reverend co-depositary, and recognizing that he had no right to +complain of the change in her heart because of his long absence, de +Gourville related the story of the indignity heaped upon him by a man +of so exalted a character and reputation. + +"You do not surprise me," said Ninon, with a winning smile, "but you +should not have suspected me on that account. The prodigious +difference in our reputations and conditions should have taught you +that." Then adding with a twinkle in her eye: "Ne suis-je pas la +gardeuse de la cassette?" + +Ninon was afterward called "La belle gardeuse de cassette," and +Voltaire, whose vigilance no anecdote of this nature could escape, has +made it, with some variations, the subject of a comedy, well known to +every admirer of the French drama, under the name of "La Dépositaire." + +Ninon had her preferences, and when one of her admirers was not to her +taste, neither prayers nor entreaties could move her. Hers was not a +case of vendible charms, it was le bon appetit merely, an Epicurean +virtue. The Grand Prior of Vendôme had reason to comprehend this trait +in her character. + +The worthy Grand Prior was an impetuous wooer, and he saw with great +sorrow that Ninon preferred the Counts de Miossens and de Palluan to +his clerical attractions. He complained bitterly to Ninon, but instead +of being softened by his reproaches, she listened to the voice of some +new rival when the Grand Prior thought his turn came next. This put +him in a great rage and he resolved to be revenged, and this is the +way he fancied he could obtain it. One day shortly after he had left +Ninon's house, she noticed on her dressing table a letter, which she +opened to find the following effusion: + +"Indigne de mes feux, indigne de mes larmes, +Je renonce sans peine à tes faibles appas; + Mon amour te prêtait des charmes, + Ingrate, que tu n'avais pas." + +Or, as might be said substantially in English: + +Unworthy my flame, unworthy a tear, +I rejoice to renounce thy feeble allure; + My love lent thee charms that endear, + Which, ingrate, thou couldst not procure. + +Instead of being offended, Ninon took this mark of unreasonable spite +good naturedly, and replied by another quatrain based upon the same +rhyme as that of the disappointed suitor: + +"Insensible à tes feux, insensible à tes larmes, +Je te vois renoncer à mes faibles appas; + Mais si l'amour prête des charmes, + Pourquoi n'en empruntais-tu pas." + +Which is as much as to say in English: + +Caring naught for thy flame, caring naught for thy tear, +I see thee renounce my feeble allure; + But if love lends charms that endear, + By borrowing thou mightst some procure. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Effect of Her Mother's Death + + +It is not to be wondered at that a girl under such tutelage should +abandon herself wholly, both mind and body, to a philosophy so +contrary in its principles and practices to that which her mother had +always endeavored to instill into her young mind. The father was +absent fighting for Heaven alone knew which faction into which France +was broken up, there were so many of them, and the mother and daughter +lived apart, the disparity in their sentiments making it impossible +for them to do otherwise. For this reason, Ninon was practically her +own mistress, and not interfered with because the husband and wife +could not agree upon any definite course of life for her to follow. +Ninon's heart, however, had not lost any of its natural instincts, and +she loved her mother sincerely, a trait in her which all Paris learned +with astonishment when her mother was taken down with what proved to +be a fatal illness. + +Madame de l'Enclos, separated from both her husband and daughter, and +devoting her life to pious exercises, acquired against them the +violent prejudices natural in one who makes such a sacrifice upon the +altar of sentiment. The worldly life of her daughter gave birth in her +mind to an opinion which she deemed the natural consequence of it. +The love of pleasure, in her estimation, had destroyed every vestige +of virtue in her daughter's soul and her neglect of her religious +duties had converted her into an unnatural being. + +But she was agreeably diverted from her ill opinion when her malady +approached a dangerous stage. Ninon flew to heir mother's side as soon +as she heard of it, and without becoming an enemy of her philosophy of +pleasure, she felt it incumbent upon her to suspend its practice. +Friendship, liaisons, social duties, pleasure, everything ceased to +amuse her or give her any satisfaction. The nursing of her sick mother +engaged her entire attention, and her fervor in this dutiful +occupation astonished Madame de l'Enclos and softened her heart to the +extent of acknowledging her error and correcting her estimate of her +daughter's character. She loved her daughter devotedly and was happy +in the knowledge that she was as devotedly loved. But this was not the +kind of happiness that could prolong her days. + +Notwithstanding all her philosophy, Ninon could not bear the spectacle +presented by her dying parent. Her soul was rent with a grief which +she did not conceal, unashamed that philosophy was impotent to +restrain an exhibition of such a natural weakness. Moreover, her dying +mother talked to her long and earnestly, and with her last breath gave +her loving counsel that sank deep into her heart, already softened by +an uncontrollable sorrow and weakened by long vigils. + +Scarcely had Madame de l'Enclos closed her eyes upon the things of +earth, than Ninon conceived the project of withdrawing from the world +and entering a convent. The absence of her father left her absolute +mistress of her conduct, and the few friends who reached her, despite +her express refusal to see any one, could not persuade her to alter +her determination. Ninon, heart broken, distracted and desolate, threw +herself bodily into an obscure convent in the suburbs of Paris, +accepting it, in the throes of her sorrow, as her only refuge and home +on earth. + +Saint-Evremond, in a letter to the Duke d'Olonne, speaks of the +sentiment which is incentive to piety: + +"There are some whom misfortunes have rendered devout through a +certain kind of pity for themselves, a secret piety, strong enough to +dispose men to lead more religious lives." + +Scarron, one of Ninon's closest friends, in his Epistle to Sarrazin, +thus alludes to this conventual escapade: + +"Puis j'aurais su * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +Ce que l'on dit du bel et saint exemple +Que la Ninon donne à tous les mondains, +En se logeant avecque les nonais, +Combien de pleurs la pauvre jouvencelle +A répandus quand sa mère, sans elle, +Cierges brûlants et portant écussons, +Prêtres chantant leurs funèbres chanson, +Voulut aller de linge enveloppée +Servir aux vers d'une franche lippée." + +Which, translated into reasonable English, is as much as saying: + +But I might have known * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +What they say of the example, so holy, so pure, +That Ninon gives to worldlings all, +By dwelling within a nunnery's wall. +How many tears the poor lorn maid +Shed, when her mother, alone, unafraid, +Mid flaming tapers with coats of arms, +Priests chanting their sad funereal alarms, +Went down to the tomb in her winding sheet +To serve for the worms a mouthful sweet. + +But the most poignant sorrow of the human heart is assuaged by time. +Saint-Evremond and Marion de Lormes, Richelieu's "belle amie," +expected to profit by the calm which they knew would not be long in +stealing over the heart of their friend. Marion, however, despaired of +succeeding through her own personal influence, and enlisted the +sympathies of Saint-Evremond, who knew Ninon's heart too well to +imagine for a moment that the mournful, monotonous life she had +embraced would satisfy her very long. It was something to be admitted +to her presence and talk over matters, a privilege they were accorded +after some demur. The first step toward ransoming their friend was +followed by others until they finally made great strides through her +resolution. They brought her back in triumph to the world she had +quitted through a species of "frivolity," so they called it, of which +she was never again guilty as long as she lived. + +This episode in Ninon's life is in direct contrast with one which +occurred when the Queen Regent, Anne of Austria, listening to the +complaints of her jealous maids of honor, attempted to dispose of +Ninon's future by immuring her in a convent. Ninon's celebrity +attained such a summit, and her drawing rooms became so popular among +the élite of the French nobility and desirable youth, that sad inroads +were made in the entourage of the Court, nothing but the culls of +humanity being left for the ladies who patronized the royal functions. +In addition to this, she excited the envy and jealousy of a certain +class of women, whom Ninon called "Jansensists of love," because they +practiced in public the puritanic virtues which they did not even have +tact enough to render agreeable. It is conceivable that Ninon's +brilliant attractions, not to say seductive charms, and her +unparalleled power to attract to her society the brightest and best +men of the nation, engendered the most violent jealousy and hatred of +those whose feebler charms were ignored and relegated to the +background. The most bitter complaints and accusations were made +against her to the Queen Regent, who was beset on all sides by loud +outcries against the conduct of a woman whom they were powerless to +imitate, until, to quiet their clamors, she deemed it her duty to act. + +Anne of Austria accordingly sent Ninon, by special messenger, a +peremptory order to withdraw to a convent, giving her the power of +selection. At first Anne intended to send her to the convent of +Repentant Girls (Filles Repenties), but the celebrated Bauton, one of +the Oiseaux des Tournelles, who loved a good joke as well as he did +Ninon, told her that such a course would excite ridicule because Ninon +was neither a girl nor a repentant (ni fille, ni repentie), for which +reason, the order was changed leaving Ninon to her own choice of a +prison. + +Ninon knew the source of the order, and foresaw that her numerous +distinguished admirers would not have any difficulty in protecting +her, and persuading the Queen Regent to rescind her order, and +therefore gave herself no concern, receiving the order as a +pleasantry. + +"I am deeply sensible of the goodness of the court in providing for my +welfare and in permitting me to select my place of retreat, and +without hesitation, I decide in favor of the Grands Cordeliers." + +Now it so happened that the Grands Cordeliers was a monastery +exclusively for men, and from which women were rigidly excluded. +Moreover, the morals of the holy brotherhood was not of the best, as +the writers of their history during that period unanimously testify. +M. de Guitaut, the captain of the Queen's guard, who had been +intrusted with the message, happened to be one of the "Birds," and he +assured the Regent that it was nothing but a little pleasantry on the +part of Ninon, who merited a thousand marks of approval and +commendation for her sterling and brilliant qualities of mind and +heart rather than punishment or even censure. + +The only comment made by the Queen Regent was: "Fie, the nasty +thing!" accompanied by a fit of laughter. Others of the "Birds" came +to the rescue, among them the Duc d'Enghien, who was known not to +value his esteem for women lightly. The matter was finally dropped, +Anne of Austria finding means to close the mouths of the envious. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Her Increasing Popularity + + +Ninon's return to the gayeties of her drawing rooms was hailed with +loud acclamations from all quarters. The envy and jealousy of her +female enemies, the attempt to immure her in a convent, and her +selection of the Grands Cordeliers as her place of retreat, brought +her new friends and admirers through the notoriety given her, and all +Paris resounded with the fame of her spirit, her wit, and her +philosophy. + +Ladies of high rank sought admission into her charming circle, many of +them, it is to be imagined, because they possessed exaggerated ideas +of her influence at court. Had she not braved the Queen Regent with +impunity? Her drawing rooms soon became the center of attraction and +were nightly crowded with the better part of the brilliant society of +Paris. Ninon was the acknowledged guide and leader, and all submitted +to her sway without the slightest envy or jealousy, and it may also be +said, without the slightest compunctions or remorse of conscience. + +The affair with the Queen Regent had one good effect, it separated the +desirable from the undesirable in the social scale, compelling the +latter to set up an establishment of their own as a counter +attraction, and as their only hope of having any society at all. They +established a "little court" at the Hôtel Rambouillet, where +foppishness was a badge of distinction, and where a few narrow minded, +starched moralists, poisoned metaphysics and turned the sentiments of +the heart into a burlesque by their affectation and their unrefined, +even vulgar attempts at gallantry. They culled choice expressions and +epigrams from the literature of the day, employing their memories to +conceal their paucity of original wit, and practised upon their +imaginations to obtain a salacious philosophy, which consisted of +sodden ideas, flat in their expression, stale and unattractive in +their adaptation. + +Ninon's coterie was the very opposite, consisting as it did of the +very flower of the nobility and the choicest spirits of the age, who +banished dry and sterile erudition, and sparkled with the liveliest +wit and polite accomplishments. There were some who eluded the +vigilance of Ninon's shrewd scrutiny, and made their way into her +inner circle, but they were soon forced to abandon their pretensions +by their inability to maintain any standing among a class of men who +were so far beyond them in rank and attainments. + +Not long after her return to the pleasures of society, after the +convent episode, Ninon was called upon to mourn the demise of her +father. M. de l'Enclos was one of the fortunate men of the times who +escaped the dangers attendant upon being on the wrong side in +politics. For some inscrutable reason, he took sides with Cardinal de +Retz, and on that account was practically banished from Paris and +compelled to be satisfied with the rough annoyances of camp life +instead of being able to put in practice the pleasant precepts of his +philosophy. He was finally permitted to return to Paris with his head +safe upon his shoulders, and flattered himself with the idea that he +could now make up for lost time, promising himself to enjoy to the +full the advantages offered by his daughter's establishment. He +embraced his daughter with the liveliest pleasure imaginable, taking +upon himself all the credit for her great reputation as due to his +efforts and to his philosophical training. He was flattered at the +success of his lessons and entered upon a life of joyous pleasure with +as much zest as though in the bloom of his youth. It proved too much +for a constitution weakened by the fatigues of years of arduous +military campaigns and he succumbed, the flesh overpowered by the +spirit, and took to his bed, where he soon reached a condition that +left his friends no hope of his recuperation. + +Aware that the end was approaching, he sent for his daughter, who +hastened to his side and shed torrents of tears. But he bade her +remember the lessons she had learned from his philosophy, and wishing +to give her one more lesson, said in an almost expiring voice: + +"Approach nearer, Ninon; you see nothing left me but a sad memory of +the pleasures that are leaving me. Their possession was not of long +duration, and that is the only complaint I have to make against +nature. But, alas! my regrets are vain. You who must survive me, +utilize precious time, and have no scruples about the quantity of your +pleasures, but only of their quality." + +Saying which, he immediately expired. The philosophical security +exhibited by her father in his very last moments, inspired Ninon with +the same calmness of spirit, and she bore his loss with equanimity, +disdaining to exhibit any immoderate grief lest she dishonor his +memory and render herself an unworthy daughter and pupil. + +The fortune left her by her father was not so considerable as Ninon +had expected. It had been very much diminished by extravagance and +speculation, but as she had in mind de la Rochefoucauld's maxim: +"There are some good marriages, but no delicious ones," and did not +contemplate ever wearing the chains of matrimony, she deposited her +fortune in the sinking funds, reserving an income of about eight +thousand livres per annum as sufficient to maintain her beyond the +reach of want. From this time on she abandoned herself to a life of +pleasure, well regulated, it must be confessed, and in strict +accordance with her Epicurean ideas. Her light heartedness increased +with her love and devotion to pleasure, which is not astonishing, as +there are privileged souls who do not lose their tender emotions by +such a pursuit, though those souls are rare. Ninon's unrestrained +freedom, and the privilege she claimed to enjoy all the rights which +men assumed, did not give her the slightest uneasiness. It was her +lovers who became anxious unless they regulated their love according +to the rules she established for them to follow, rules which it can +not be denied, were held in as much esteem then as nowadays. The +following anecdote will serve as an illustration: + +The Marquis de la Châtre had been one of her lovers for an +unconscionably long period, but never seemed to cool in his fidelity. +Duty, however, called him away from Ninon's arms, but he was +distressed with the thought that his absence would be to his +disadvantage. He was afraid to leave her lest some rival should appear +upon the scene and dispossess him in her affections. Ninon vainly +endeavored to remove his suspicions. + +"No, cruel one," he said, "you will forget and betray me. I know your +heart, it alarms me, crushes me. It is still faithful to my love, I +know, and I believe you are not deceiving me at this moment. But that +is because I am with you and can personally talk of my love. Who will +recall it to you when I am gone? The love you inspire in others, +Ninon, is very different from the love you feel. You will always be in +my heart, and absence will be to me a new fire to consume me; but to +you, absence is the end of affection. Every object I shall imagine I +see around you will be odious to me, but to you they will be +interesting." + +Ninon could not deny that there was truth in the Marquis' logic, but +she was too tender to assassinate his heart which she knew to be so +loving. Being a woman she understood perfectly the art of +dissimulation, which is a necessary accomplishment, a thousand +circumstances requiring its exercise for the sake of her security, +peace, and comfort. Moreover, she did not at the moment dream of +deceiving him; there was no present occasion, nobody else she had in +mind. Ninon thought rapidly, but could not find any reason for +betraying him, and therefore assured him of her fidelity and +constancy. + +Nevertheless, the amorous Marquis, who might have relied upon the +solemn promise of his mistress, had it not been for the intense fears +which were ever present in his mind, and becoming more violent as the +hour for his departure drew nearer, required something more +substantial than words. But what could he exact? Ah! an idea, a novel +expedient occurred to his mind, one which he imagined would restrain +the most obstinate inconstancy. + +"Listen, Ninon, you are without contradiction a remarkable woman. If +you once do a thing you will stand to it. What will tend to quiet my +mind and remove my fears, ought to be your duty to accept, because my +happiness is involved and that is more to you than love; it is your +own philosophy, Ninon. Now, I wish you to put in writing that you will +remain faithful to me, and maintain the most inviolable fidelity. I +will dictate it in the strongest form and in the most sacred terms +known to human promises. I will not leave you until I have obtained +such a pledge of your constancy, which is necessary to relieve my +anxiety, and essential to my repose." + +Ninon vainly argued that this would be something too strange and +novel, foolish, in fact, the Marquis was obstinate and finally +overcame her remonstrances. She wrote and signed a written pledge +such as no woman had ever executed, and fortified with this pledge, +the Marquis hastened to respond to the call of duty. + +Two days had scarcely elapsed before Ninon was besieged by one of the +most dangerous men of her acquaintance. Skilled in the art of love, he +had often pressed his suit, but Ninon had other engagements and would +not listen to him. But now, his rival being out of the field, he +resumed his entreaties and increased his ardor. He was a man to +inspire love, but Ninon resisted, though his pleading touched her +heart. Her eyes at last betrayed her love and she was vanquished +before she realized the outcome of the struggle. + +What was the astonishment of the conqueror, who was enjoying the +fruits of his victory, to hear Ninon exclaim in a breathless voice, +repeating it three times: "Ah! Ah! le bon billet qu'a la Châtre!" (Oh, +the fine bond that la Châtre has.) + +Pressed for an explanation of the enigma, Ninon told him the whole +story, which was too good to keep secret, and soon the "billet de la +Châtre" became, in the mouth of everybody, a saying applied to things +upon which it is not wise to rely. Voltaire, to preserve so charming +an incident, has embalmed it in his comedy of la Prude, act I, scene +III. Ninon merely followed the rule established by Madame de Sévigné: +"Les femmes ont permission d'être faibles, et elles se servent sans +scrupule de ce privilège." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Ninon's Friendships + + +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos never forgot a friend in a lover, indeed, the +trait that stands out clear and strong in her character, is her whole +hearted friendship for the men she loved, and she bestowed it upon +them as long as they lived, for she outlived nearly all of them, and +cherished their memories afterward. As has been said, Ninon de +l'Enclos was Epicurean in the strictest sense, and did not rest her +entire happiness on love alone, but included a friendship which went +to the extent of making sacrifices. The men with whom she came in +contact from time to time during her long life, were nothing to her +from a pecuniary point of view, for she possessed an income +sufficiently large to satisfy her wants and to maintain the social +establishment she never neglected. + +There was never, either directly or indirectly, any money +consideration asked or expected in payment of her favors, and the man +who would have dared offer her money as a consideration for anything, +would have met with scorn and contempt and been expelled from her +house and society without ever being permitted to regain either. The +natural wants of her heart and mind, and what she was pleased to call +the natural gratifications of physical wants, were her mentors, and to +them she listened, never dreaming of holding them at a pecuniary +value. + +One of her dearest friends was Scarron, once the husband of Madame de +Maintenon, the pious leader of a debased court and the saintly +mistress of the king of France. In his younger days, Scarron +contributed largely to the pleasures of the Oiseaux des Tournelles, +the ecclesiastical collar he then wore not being sufficient to prevent +his enjoying worldly pleasures. + +In the course of time Scarron fell ill, and was reduced to a dreadful +condition, no one coming to his succor but Ninon. Like a tender, +compassionate friend, she sympathized deeply with him, when he was +carried to the suburb Saint Germain to try the effects of the baths as +an alleviation of his pains. Scarron did not complain, on the +contrary, he was cheerful and always gay even when suffering tortures. +There was little left of him, however, but an indomitable spirit +burning in a crushed tenement of mortal clay. Not being able to come +to her, Ninon went to him, and passed entire days at his side. Not +only that, she brought her friends with her and established a small +court around his bed, thus cheering him in his pain and doing him a +world of good, which finally enabled his spirit to triumph over his +mortal shell. + +Instances might be multiplied, enough to fill a volume, of her +devotion to her friends, whom she never abandoned and whom she was +always ready with purse and counsel to aid in their difficulties. A +curious instance is that of Nicolas Vauquelin, sieur de Desyvetaux, +whom she missed from her circle for several days. Aware that he had +been having some family troubles, and that his fortune was menaced, +she became alarmed, thinking that perhaps some misfortune had come +upon him, for which reason she resolved to seek him and help him out +of his difficulties. But Ninon was mistaken in supposing that so wise +and gay an Epicurean could be crushed by any sorrow or trouble. +Desyvetaux was enjoying himself in so singular a fashion that it is +worth telling. + +This illustrious Epicurean, finding one night a young girl in a +fainting condition at his door, brought her into his house to succor +her, moved by an impulse of humanity. But as soon as she had recovered +her senses, the philosopher's heart was touched by her beauty. To +please her benefactor the girl played several selections on a harp and +accompanied the instrument with a charming and seductive voice. + +Desyvetaux, who was a passionate admirer of music, was captivated by +this accomplishment, and suddenly conceived the desire to spend the +rest of his days in the company of this charming singer. It was not +difficult for a girl who had been making it her business to frequent +the wineshops of the suburbs with a brother, earning a precarious +living by singing and playing on the harp, to accept such a +proposition, and consent to bestow happiness upon an excessively +amorous man, who offered to share with her a luxurious and tranquil +life in one of the finest residences in the suburb Saint Germain. + +Although most of his life had been passed at court as the governor of +M. de Vendôme, and tutor of Louis XIII, he had always desired to lead +a life of peace and quiet in retirement. The pleasures of a sylvan +life which he had so often described in his lectures, ended by leading +his mind in that direction. The young girl he found on his doorstep +had offered him his first opportunity to have a Phyllis to his Corydon +and he eagerly embraced it. Both yielded to the fancy, she dressed in +the garb of a shepherdess, he playing the rôle of Corydon at the age +of seventy years. + +Sometimes stretched out on a carpet of verdure, he listened to the +enchanting music she drew from her instrument, or drank in the sweet +voice of his shepherdess singing melodious pastorals. A flock of +birds, charmed with this harmony, left their cages to caress with +their wings, Dupuis' harp, or intoxicated with joy, fluttered down +into her bosom. This little gallantry in which they had been trained +was a delicious spectacle to the shepherd philosopher and intoxicated +his senses. He fancied he was guiding with his mistress innumerable +bands of intermingled sheep; their conversation was in tender eclogues +composed by them both extemporaneously, the attractive surroundings +inspiring them with poetry. + +Ninon was amazed when she found her "bon homme," as she called him, in +the startlingly original disguise of a shepherd, a crook in his hand, +a wallet hanging by his side, and a great flapping straw hat, trimmed +with rose colored silk on his head. Her first impression was that he +had taken leave of his senses, and she was on the point of shedding +tears over the wreck of a once brilliant mind, when Desyvetaux, +suspending his antics long enough to look about him, perceived her and +rushed to her side with the liveliest expressions of joy. He removed +her suspicions of his sanity by explaining his metamorphosis in a +philosophical fashion: + +"You know, my dear Ninon, there are certain tastes and pleasures which +find their justification in a certain philosophy when they bear all +the marks of moral innocence. Nothing can be said against them but +their singularity. There are no amusements less dangerous than those +which do not resemble those generally indulged in by the multitude." + +Ninon was pleased with the amiable companion of her old friend. Her +figure, her mental attainments, and her talents enchanted her, and +Desyvetaux, who appeared in a ridiculous light when she first saw him +in his masquerade, now seemed to her to be on the road to happiness. +She made no attempt to persuade him to return to his former mode of +life, which she could not avoid at this moment, however, as +considering more agreeable than the new one he had adopted. But what +could she offer in the way of superior seductive pleasures to a pair +who had tasted pure and natural enjoyments? The vain amusements and +allurements of the world have no sympathy with anything but +dissipation, in which, the mind, yielding to the fleeting seductions +of art, leaves the heart empty as soon as the illusion disappears. + +The strange conduct of Desyvetaux gave birth to numerous reflections +of this nature in Ninon's mind, but she did not cease to be his +friend, on the contrary, she entered into the spirit of his simple +life and visited him from time to time to enjoy the spectacle of such +a tender masquerade which Desyvetaux continued up to the time of his +death. It gave Mademoiselle Dupuis nearly as much celebrity as her +lover attained, for when the end came, she obeyed his desire to play a +favorite dance on her harp, to enable his soul to take flight in the +midst of its delicious harmony. It should be mentioned, that +Desyvetaux wore in his hat as long as he lived, a yellow ribbon, "out +of love for the gentle Ninon who gave it to me." + +Socrates advises persons of means to imitate the swans, which, +realizing the benefit of an approaching death, sing while in their +death agony. The Abbé Brantôme relates an interesting story of the +death of Mademoiselle de Lineul, the elder, one of the queen's +daughters, which resembles that of Desyvetaux. + +"When the hour of her death had arrived," says Brantôme, "Mademoiselle +sent for her valet, Julian, who could play the violin to perfection. +'Julian,' quoth she, 'take your violin and play on it until you see me +dead--for I am going--the Defeat of the Swiss, and play it as well as +you know how; and when you shall reach the words "tout est perdu," +play it over four or five times as piteously as you can:' which the +other did. And when he came to 'tout est perdu' she sang it over +twice; then turning to the other side of the couch, she said to those +who stood around: 'Tout est perdu à ce coup et à bon escient;' all is +lost this time, sure.'" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Some of Ninon's Lovers + + +Notwithstanding her love of pleasure, and her admiration for the +society of men, Ninon was never vulgar or common in the distribution +of her favors, but selected those upon whom she decided to bestow +them, with the greatest care and discrimination. As has been already +said, she discovered in early life, that women were at a discount, and +she resolved to pursue the methods of men in the acceptance or +rejection of friendship, and in distributing her favors and +influences. As she herself declared: + +"I soon saw that women were put off with the most frivolous and unreal +privileges, while every solid advantage was retained by the stronger +sex. From that moment I determined on abandoning my own sex and +assuming that of the men." + +So well did she carry out this determination that she was regarded by +her masculine intimates as one of themselves, and whatever pleasures +they enjoyed in her society, were enjoyed upon the same principle as +they would have delighted in a good dinner, an agreeable theatrical +performance, or exquisite music. + +To her and to all her associates, love was a taste emanating from the +senses, a blind sentiment which assumes no merit in the object which +gives it birth, as is the case of hunger, thirst, and the like. In a +word, it was merely a caprice the domination of which depends upon +ourselves, and is subject to the discomforts and regrets attendant +upon repletion or indulgence. + +After her first experience with de Coligny, which was an abandonment +of her cold philosophy for a passionate attachment she thought would +endure forever, Ninon cast aside all that element in love which is +connected with passion and extravagant sentiment, and adhered to her +philosophical understanding of it, and kept it in its proper place in +the category of natural appetites. To illustrate her freedom from +passionate attachments in the distribution of her favors, the case of +her friend Scarron will give an insight into her philosophy. Scarron +had received numerous favors from her, and being one of her select +"Birds," who had always agreed with la Rochefoucauld that, "There are +many good marriages but none that are delicious," she assumed that her +friend would never entangle himself in the bonds of matrimony. But he +did and to his sorrow. + +When Ninon had returned to Paris after a long sojourn with the Marquis +de Villarceaux, she found to her astonishment that Scarron had married +the amiable but ignoble Mademoiselle d'Aubigne. This young lady was in +a situation which precluded all hope of her ever attaining social +eminence, but aspiring to rise, notwithstanding her common origin, she +married Scarron as the first step upon the social ladder. Without +realizing that this woman was to become the celebrated Madame de +Maintenon, mistress of the king and the real power behind the throne, +Ninon took her in charge and they soon became the closest and most +affectionate friends, always together even occupying the same bed. +Ninon's tender friendship for the husband continued in spite of his +grave violation of the principles of his accepted philosophy, and when +he was deserted, sick and helpless, she went to him and brought him +cheer and comfort. + +Ninon was so little imbued with jealousy that when she discovered a +liaison between her own lover, Marquis de Villarceaux and her friend, +Madame Scarron, she was not even angry. The two were carrying on their +amour in secret, and as they supposed without Ninon's knowledge, whose +presence, indeed, they deemed a restraint upon their freedom of +action. The Marquis considered himself a traitor to Ninon, and Madame +Scarron stood in fear of her reproaches for her betrayal. But Ninon, +instead of taking either of them to task, as she would have been +justified in doing, gently remonstrated with them for their secrecy, +and by her kindness reassured both of them and relieved them from +their embarrassment, making them understand that she desired nothing +so much as their happiness. Both the Marquis and his mistress made +Ninon their confidante, and thereafter lived in perfect amity until +the lovers grew tired of each other, Madame Scarron aiming higher than +an ordinary Marquis, now that she saw her way clear to mounting the +social ladder. + +It was perhaps due to Ninon's kindness in the Villarceaux episode, +that enabled her to retain the friendship of Madame de Maintenon when +the latter had reached the steps of the throne. The mistress of +royalty endeavored to persuade Ninon to appear at court but there was +too great a difference in temper and constitution between the two +celebrated women to admit of any close relations. Ninon made use of +the passion of love for the purpose of pleasure only, while her more +exalted rival made it subservient to her ambitious projects, and did +not hesitate with that view to cloak her licentious habits beneath the +mantle of religion, and add hypocrisy to frailty. The income of Ninon +de l'Enclos was agreeably and judiciously spent in the society of men +of wit and letters, but the revenues of the Marchioness de Maintenon +were squandered on the useless decoration of her own person, or +hoarded for the purpose of elevating into rank and notice an +insignificant family, who had no other claim to such distinction than +that derived from the easy honesty of a female relation, and the +dissolute extravagance of a vain and licentious sovereign. + +While Ninon de l'Enclos was receiving and encouraging the attentions +of the most distinguished men of her time, literati, nobles, warriors, +statesmen, and sages, in her house in the Rue des Tournelles, the +mistress of the sovereign, the dear friend who had betrayed her to the +Marquis de Villarceaux, was swallowing, at Versailles, the adulations +of degraded courtiers of every rank and profession. There were met +together there the vain and the ambitious, the designing and the +foolish, the humblest and the proudest of those who, whether proud or +humble, or ambitious, or vain, or crafty, were alike the devoted +servants of the monarch or the monarch's mistress--princes, cardinals, +bishops, dukes and every kind of nobility, excisemen and priests, +keepers of the royal conscience and necessary--all ministers of filth, +each in his degree, from the secretaries of state to the lowest +underlings in office--clerks of the ordnance, victualing, stamps, +customs, colonies, and postoffice, farmers and receivers general, +judges and cooks, confessors and every other caterer to the royal +appetite. This was the order of things that Ninon de l'Enclos was +contending against, and that she succeeded by methods that must be +considered saintly compared with the others, stands recorded in the +pages of history. + +After Ninon had suffered from the indiscretion of the lover who made +public the story of the famous pledge given la Châtre, she lost her +fancy for the recreant, and though friendly, refused any closer tie. +He knew that he had done Ninon an injury and begged to be reinstated +in her favor. He was of charming manners and fascinating in his +pleading, but he made no impression on her heart. She agreed to pardon +him for his folly and declined to consider the matter further. Nor +would she return to the conversation, although he persisted in +referring to the matter as one he deeply regretted. When he was +departing after Ninon had assured him of her pardon, she ran after him +and called out as he was descending the stairs: "At least, Marquis, +we have not been reconciled." + +Her good qualities were embalmed in the literature of the day, very +few venturing to lampoon her. Those who did so were greeted with so +much derisive laughter that they were ashamed to appear in society +until the storm had blown over. + +M. de Tourielle, a member of the French Academy, and a very learned +man, became enamored of her and his love-making assumed a curious +phase. To show her that he was worthy of her consideration, he deemed +it incumbent upon him to read her long dissertations on scientific +subjects, and bored her incessantly with a translation of the orations +of Demosthenes, which he intended dedicating to her in an elaborate +preface. This was more than Ninon could bear with equanimity--a lover +with so much erudition, and his prosy essays, appealed more to her +sense of humor than to her sentiments of love, and he was laughed out +of her social circle. This angered the Academician and he thought to +revenge himself by means of an epigram in which he charged Ninon with +admiring figures of rhetoric more than a sensible academic discourse +full of Greek and Latin quotations. It would have proved the ruin of +the poor man had Ninon not come to his rescue, and explained to him +the difference between learning and love. After which he became +sensible and wrote some very good books. + +It should be understood that Ninon had no secrets in which her merry +and wise "Birds" did not share. She confided to them all her love +affairs, gave them the names of her suitors, in fact, every wooer was +turned over to this critical, select society, as a committee of +investigation into quality and merit both of mind and body. In this +way she was protected from the unworthy, and when she made a +selection, they respected her freedom of choice, carefully guarding +her lover and making him one of themselves after the fitful fever was +over. They were all graduates in her school, good fellows, and had +accepted Ninon's philosophy without question. + +Her lovers were always men of rank and station or of high talents, but +she was caught once by the dazzle of a famous dancer named Pécour, who +pleased her exceedingly, and who became the fortunate rival of the Duc +de Choiseul, afterward a marshal of France. It happened that Choiseul +was more remarkable for his valor than for his probity and solid +virtues, and could not inspire in Ninon's heart anything but the +sterile sentiments of esteem and respect. He was certainly worthy of +these, but he was too cold in his amorous desires to please Ninon. + +"He is a very worthy gentleman," said she, "but he never gives me a +chance to love him." + +The frequent visits of Pécour excited the jealousy of the warrior, but +he did not dare complain, not knowing whether things had reached a +climax and fearing that if he should mention the matter he might help +them along instead of stopping them. One day, however, he attempted to +goad his unworthy rival into some admission, and received a response +that was enough to settle his doubts. + +Pécour was in the habit of wearing a costume much resembling that of +the military dandies of the period. Choiseul meeting him in this +equivocal garb, proceeded to be funny at his expense by putting to him +all sorts of ironical and embarrassing questions. But Pécour felt all +the vanity of a successful rival and was good natured. Then the Duke +began to make sneering remarks which roused the dancer's anger. + +"Pray, what flag are you fighting under, and what body do you +command?" asked Monseigneur with a sarcastic smile. + +Quick as a flash came the answer which gave the Duke an inkling into +the situation. + +"Je commande un corps où vous servez depuis longtemps," replied +Pécour. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Ninon's Lovers--Continued + + +A counter attraction has been referred to in speaking of the Hôtel +Rambouillet, where a fashionable court was established for the purpose +of drawing away from Ninon the elite who flocked to her standard. +Mademoiselle de Scudery gives a fine description of this little court +at Rambouillet in her romance, entitled "Cyrus." There was not and +could not be any rivalry between the court in the Rue des Tournelles +and that at Rambouillet, for the reason that Ninon's coterie consisted +of men exclusively, while that of Rambouillet was thronged with women. +But this, quite naturally, occasioned much envy and jealousy among the +ladies who devised all sorts of entertainments to attract masculine +society. One of their performances was the famous "Julia Garland," so +named in honor of Mademoiselle de Rambouillet, who was known by the +name of "Julie d'Angennes." Each one selected a favorite flower, wrote +a sonnet in its praise, and when all were ready, they stood around +Mademoiselle de Rambouillet in a circle and alternately recited the +poem, the reward for the best one being the favor of some fair lady. +Among those who were drawn to the Hôtel Rambouillet by this pleasing +entertainment was the Duke d'Enghien, afterward known as the "Great +Condé," a prince of the highest renown as a victorious warrior. He +was a great acquisition, and the Garland Play was repeated every night +in the expectation that his pleasure would continue, and the constant +attraction prove adequate to hold him. Once or twice, however, was +sufficient for the Duke, its constant repetition becoming flat and +tiresome. He did not scruple to express his dissatisfaction with a +society that could not originate something new. He was a broad minded +man, with a comprehensive knowledge, but had little taste for poetry +and childish entertainments. But the good ladies of Rambouillet, +unable to devise any other entertainment, persisted in their Garland +Play, until the Duke's human nature rebelled at the monotony, and he +begged his friends de Moissens and Saint-Evremond to suggest some +relief. They immediately brought him in touch with the Birds of the +Tournelles, with the result that he abandoned the Hôtel Rambouillet +and found scope for his social desires at Ninon's house and in her +more attractive society. The conquest of his heart followed that of +his intelligence, the hero of Rocroi being unable to resist a +tenderness which is the glory of a lover and the happiness of his +mistress. + +It is a curious fact, known to some, that all the heroes of Bellona +are not expert in the wars of Venus, the strongest and most valiant +souls being weak in combats in which valor plays an unimportant part. +The poet Chaulieu says upon this point: + +"Pour avoir la valeur d'Hercule, +On n'est pas obligé d'en avoir la vigueur." + +(To have the valor of Hercules, one need not have his vigor.) + +The young Prince was born to attain immortal glory on the field of +Mars. To that all his training had tended, but notwithstanding his +robust physique, and the indicia of great strength with which nature +had endowed him, he was a weakling in the field of Venus. He came +within the category of a Latin proverb with which Ninon was familiar: +"Pilosus aut fortis, aut libidinosus." (A hairy man is either strong +or sensual.) Wherefore, one day when Ninon was enjoying his society, +she looked at him narrowly and exclaimed: "Ah, Monseigneur, il faut +que vous soyez bien fort!" (Ah, Monseigneur, you must be very strong.) + +Notwithstanding this, the two dwelt together for a long time in +perfect harmony, the intellectual benefit the Duke derived from the +close intimacy being no less than the pleasure he derived from her +affection. Naturally inclined to deserve the merit and esteem as well +as the love of her admirers, Ninon used all the influence she +possessed to regulate their lives and to inspire them with the true +desire to perform faithfully the duties of their rank and station. +What power over her intimates does not possess a charming woman +disembarrassed of conventional prudery, but vested with grace, high +sentiments, and mental attainments! It was through the gentle exercise +of this power that the famous Aspasia graved in the soul of Pericles +the seductive art of eloquent language, and taught him the most solid +maxims of politics, maxims of which he made so noble a use. + +The young Duke, penetrated with love and esteem for Ninon, passed at +her side every moment he could steal away from the profound studies +and occupations required by his rank and position. Although he +afterward became the Prince de Condé, the Lion of his time, and the +bulwark of France, he never ceased expressing for her the liveliest +gratitude and friendship. Whenever he met her equipage in the streets +of Paris, he never failed to descend from his own and go to pay her +the most affectionate compliments. + +The Prince de Marsillac, afterward the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, less +philosophical then than later in life, and who prided himself on his +acquaintance with all the vices and follies of youth, could not long +withhold his admiration for the solid and estimable qualities he +perceived in Ninon, whom he often saw in the company of the Duke +d'Enghein. The result of his admiration was that he formed a tender +attachment which lasted as long as he lived. It was Ninon who +continued the good work begun by Madame de La Fayette, who confessed +that her social relations with la Rochefoucauld had been the means of +embellishing her mind, and that in compensation for this great service +she had reformed his heart. Whatever share Madame de La Fayette may +have had in reforming the heart of this great man, it is certain that +Ninon de l'Enclos had much to do with reforming his morals and +elevating his mind up to the point it is evident he reached, to judge +from his "Maxims," in which the human heart is bared as with a scalpel +in the most skilfully devised epigrams that never cease to hold the +interest of every reader. + +Chapelle, the most celebrated voluptuary in Paris, did everything in +his power to overcome Ninon's repugnance, but without success. There +was nothing lacking in his mental attainments, for he was a poet of +very high order, inimitable in his style; moreover, he was presentable +in his person. Yet he could not make the slightest impression on +Ninon's heart. He openly declared his love, and, receiving constant +rebuffs, resolved to have revenge and overcome her resistance by +punishing her. This he attempted to do in a very singular manner +without regard to consistency. + +All Paris knew his verses in which he did not conceal his ardent love +for Ninon, and in which were expressed the highest admiration for her +estimable qualities and the depth of her philosophy. He now proceeded +to take back everything good he had said about her and made fun of her +love, her friendship, and her attainments. He ridiculed her in every +possible manner, even charging up against her beauty, her age. A verse +or so will enable the reader to understand his methods: + +"Il ne faut pas qu'on s'étonne, +Si souvent elle raisonne +De la sublime vertu +Dont Platon fut revêtu: +Car à bien compter son âge, +Elle peut avoir vécu +Avec ce grand personnage." + +Or, substantially in the English language: + +Let no one be surprised, +If she should be advised +Of the virtue most renowned +In Plato to be found: +For, counting up her age, +She lived, 'tis reason sound, +With that great personage. + +Ninon had no rancor in her heart toward any one, much less against an +unsuccessful suitor, hence she only laughed at Chapelle's effusions +and all Paris laughed with her. The truth is, la Rochefoucauld had +impressed her mind with that famous saying of his: "Old age is the +hell of women," and not fearing any hell, reference to her age neither +alarmed her, nor caused the slightest flurry in her peaceful life. She +was too philosophical to regret the loss of what she did not esteem of +any value, and saw Chapelle slipping away from her with tranquillity +of mind. It was only during moments of gayety when she abandoned +herself to the play of an imagination always laughing and fertile, +that she repeated the sacrilegious wish of the pious king of Aragon, +who wished that he had been present at the moment of creation, when, +among the suggestions he could have given Providence, he would have +advised him to put the wrinkles of old age where the gods of Pagandom +had located the feeble spot in Achilles. + +If Ninon ever felt a pang on account of the ungenerous conduct of +Chapelle, his disciple, the illustrious Abbé de Chaulieu, the Anacreon +of the age, who was called, when he made his entrée into the world of +letters "the poet of good fellowship," more than compensated her for +the injury done by his pastor. The Abbé was the Prior of Fontenay, +whither Ninon frequently accompanied Madame the Duchess de Bouillon +and the Chevalier d'Orléans. The Duchess loved to joke at the expense +of the Abbé, and twit him about his wasted talents, which were more +adapted to love than to his present situation. It may be that the +worthy Abbé, after thinking over seriously what was intended to be a +mere pleasantry, concluded that Madame the Duchess was right, and that +he possessed some talent in the direction of love. However that might, +have been, it is certain that he had cast an observant and critical +eye on Ninon, and he now openly paid her court, not unsuccessfully it +should be known. + +The Abbé Gedoyn was her last lover so far as there is any account of +her amours. The story is related by Remond, surnamed "The Greek," and +must be taken with a grain of salt as Ninon was at that time +seventy-nine years of age. This Remond, notwithstanding her age, had +made violent love to Ninon without meeting with any success. Perhaps +he was trying an experiment, being a learned man, anxious to ascertain +when the fire of passion became extinct in the human breast. Ninon +evidently suspected his ardent professions for she refused to listen +to him and forbade his visits altogether. + +"I was the dupe of his Greek erudition," she explained, "so I banished +him from my school. He was always wrong in his philosophy of the +world, and was unworthy of as sensible a society as mine." She often +added to this: "After God had made man, he repented him; I feel the +same about Rémond." + +But to return to the Abbé Gedoyn: he left the Jesuits with the Abbé +Fraguier in 1694, that is to say, when Mademoiselle de l'Enclos was +seventy-eight years of age. Both of them immediately made the +acquaintance of Ninon and Madame de la Salière, and, astonished at the +profound merit they discovered, deemed it to their advantage to +frequent their society for the purpose of adding to their talents +something which the study of the cloister and experience in the king's +cabinet itself had never offered them. Abbé Gedoyn became particularly +attached to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whose good taste and +intellectual lights he considered such sure and safe guides. His +gratitude soon received the additions of esteem and admiration, and +the young disciple felt the growth of desires which it is difficult to +believe were real, but which became so pressing, that they revived in +a heart nearly extinct a feeble spark of that fire with which it had +formerly burned. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos refused to accede to the +desires of her lover until she was fully eighty years of age, a term +which did not cool the ardor of the amorous Abbé, who waited +impatiently and on her eightieth birthday compelled his benefactress +to keep her word. + +This incident recalls the testimony of a celebrated Countess of +Salisbury, who was called to testify as an expert upon the subject of +love in a celebrated criminal case that was tried over a hundred years +ago in the English House of Lords. The woman correspondent was of an +age when human passion is supposed to be extinct, and her counsel was +attempting to prove that fact to relieve her from the charge. The +testimony of the aged Countess, who was herself over seventy-five +years of age, was very unsatisfactory, and the court put this question +to her demanding an explicit answer. + +"Madame," he inquired, "at what age does the sentiment, passion, or +desire of love cease in the female heart?" + +Her ladyship, who had lived long in high society and had been +acquainted with all of the gallants and coquettes of the English court +for nearly two generations, and who, herself, had sometimes been +suspected of not having been averse to a little waywardness, looked +down at her feet for a moment thoughtfully, then raising her eyes and +locking squarely into those of the judge, answered: + +"My Lord, you will have to ask a woman older than I." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The Villarceaux Affair + + +Party politics raged around Ninon, her "Birds" being men of high rank +and leaders with a large following. They were all her dearest friends, +however, and no matter how strong personal passion was beyond her +immediate presence, her circle was a neutral ground which no one +thought of violating. It required her utmost influence and tenderness, +however, to prevent outbreaks, but her unvarying sweetness of temper +and disposition to all won their hearts into a truce for her sake. +There were continual plots hatched against the stern rule of +Richelieu, cabals and conspiracies without number were entered upon, +but none of them resulted in anything. Richelieu knew very well what +was going on, and he realized perfectly that Ninon's drawing-rooms +were the center of every scheme concocted to drag him down and out of +the dominant position he was holding against the combined nobility of +France. But he never took a step toward suppressing her little court +as a hot-bed of restlessness, he rather encouraged her by his silence +and his indifference. Complaints of her growing coterie of uneasy +spirits brought nothing from him but: "As long as they find amusements +they are not dangerous." It was the forerunner of Napoleon's idea +along the same line: "We must amuse the people; then they will not +meddle with our management of the government." + +It is preposterous to think of this minister of peace, this restless +prelate, half soldier, half pastor, meddling in all these cabals and +seditious schemes organized for his own undoing, but nevertheless, he +was really the fomenter of all of them. They were his devices for +preventing the nobility from combining against him. He set one cabal +to watch another, and there was never a conspiracy entered into that +he did not prepare a similar conspiracy through his numerous secret +agents and thus split into harmless nothings and weak attempts what +would have been fatal to a continuance of his power. His tricks were +nothing but the ordinary everyday methods of the modern ward +politician making the dear people believe he is doing one thing when +he is doing another. The stern man pitted one antagonist against +another until both sued for peace and pardon. The nobility were honest +in their likes and dislikes, but they did not understand double +dealings and therefore the craft of Richelieu was not even suspected. + +Soon he corrupted by his secret intrigues the fidelity of the nobles +and destroyed the integrity of the people. Then it was, as Cyrano +says: "The world saw billows of scum vomited upon the royal purple and +upon that of the church." Vile rhyming poets, without merit or virtue, +sold their villainous productions to the enemies of the state to be +used in goading the people to riot. Obscene and filthy vaudevilles, +defamatory libels and infamous slanders were as common as bread, and +were hurled back and forth as evidence of an internecine strife which +was raging around the wearer of the Roman scarlet, who was thereby +justified in continuing his ecclesiastical rule to prevent the +wrecking of the throne. + +Ninon had always been an ardent supporter of the throne, and on that +account imagined herself to be the enemy of Richelieu. There were many +others who believed the same thing. They did not know that should the +great Cardinal withdraw his hand for a single moment there would not +be any more throne. When the human hornets around him became annoying +he was accustomed to pretend to withdraw his sustaining hand, then the +throne would tremble and totter, but he always came to the rescue; +indeed, there was no other man who could rescue it. Cabals, plots, and +conspiracies became so thick around Ninon at one period that she was +frightened. Scarron's house became a rendezvous for the factious and +turbulent. Madame Scarron was aiming at the throne, that is, she was +opening the way to capture the heart of the king. This was too much +for Ninon, who was more modest in her ambitions, and she fled +frightened. + +The Marquis de Villarceaux received her with open arms at his château +some distance from Paris, and that was her home for three years. There +were loud protests at this desertion from her coterie of friends, and +numerous dark threats were uttered against the gallant Marquis who had +thus captured the queen of the "Birds," but Ninon explained her +reason in such a plausible manner that their complaints subsided into +good-natured growls. She hoped to prevent a political conflagration +emanating from her social circle by scattering the firebrands, and she +succeeded admirably. The Marquis was constantly with her, permitting +nobody to intervene between them, and provided her with a perpetual +round of amusements that made the time pass very quickly. Moreover, +she was faithful to the Marquis, so wonderful a circumstance that her +friend and admirer wrote an elegy upon that circumstance, in which he +draws a picture of the pleasures of the ancients in ruralizing, but +reproaches Ninon for indulging in a passion for so long a period to +the detriment of her other friends and admirers. But Ninon was happy +in attaining the summit of her desire, which was to defeat Madame +Scarron, her rival in the affections of the Marquis, keeping the +latter by her side for three whole years as has already been said. + +However delighted Ninon may have been with this arrangement, the +Marquis, himself, did not repose upon a bed of roses. The jealousy of +the "Birds" gave him no respite, he being obliged in honor to respond +to their demands for an explanation of his conduct in carrying off +their leader, generally insisting upon the so-called field of honor as +the most appropriate place for giving a satisfactory answer. They even +invaded his premises until they forced him to make them some +concessions in the way of permission to see the object of their +admiration, and to share in her society. The Marquis was proud of his +conquest, the very idea of a three years' tête à tête with the most +volatile heart in France being sufficient to justify him in boasting +of his prowess, but whenever he ventured to do so a champion on the +part of Ninon always stood ready to make him either eat his words or +fight to maintain them. + +Madame Scarron, whom he so basely deserted for the superior charms of +her friend Ninon, often gave him a bad quarter of an hour. When she +became the mistress of the king and, as Madame de Maintenon, really +held the reins of power, visions of the Bastile thronged his brain. He +knew perfectly well that he had scorned the charms of Madame Scarron, +who believed them irresistible, and that he deserved whatever +punishment she might inflict upon him. She might have procured a +lettre de cachet, had him immured in a dungeon or his head removed +from his shoulders as easily as order a dinner, but she did nothing to +gratify a spirit of revenge, utterly ignoring his existence. + +Added to these trifling circumstances, trifling in comparison with +what follows, was the furious jealousy of his wife, Madame la +Marquise. She was violently angry and did not conceal her hatred for +the woman who had stolen her husband's affections. The Marquise was a +trifle vulgar and common in her manner of manifesting her displeasure, +but the Marquis, a very polite and affable gentleman, did not pay the +slightest attention to his wife's daily recriminations, but continued +to amuse himself with the charming Ninon. + +Under such circumstances each was compelled to have a separate social +circle, the Marquis entertaining his friends with the adorable Ninon +as the center of attraction, and Madame la Marquise doing her best to +offer counter attractions. Somehow, Ninon drew around her all the most +desirable partis among the flower of the nobility and wits, leaving +the social circle managed by la Marquise to languish for want of +stamina. It was a constant source of annoyance to the Marquise to see +her rival's entertainments so much in repute and her own so poorly +attended, and she was at her wits' end to devise something that would +give them éclat. One of her methods, and an impromptu scene at one of +her drawing-rooms, will serve to show the reason why Madame la +Marquise was not in good repute and why she could not attract the +élite of Paris to her entertainments. + +La Marquise was a very vain, moreover, a very ignorant woman, a +"nouvelle riche" in fact, or what might be termed in modern parlance +"shoddy," without tact, sense, or savoir faire. One day at a grand +reception, some of her guests desired to see her young son, of whom +she was very proud, and of whose talents and virtues she was always +boasting. He was sent for and came into the presence accompanied by +his tutor, an Italian savant who never left his side. From praising +his beauty of person, they passed to his mental qualities. Madame la +Marquise, enchanted at the caresses her son was receiving and aiming +to create a sensation by showing off his learning, took it into her +head to have his tutor put him through an examination in history. + +"Interrogate my son upon some of his recent lessons in history," said +she to the tutor, who was not at all loth to show his own attainments +by the brilliancy of his pupil. + +"Come, now, Monsieur le Marquis," said the tutor with alacrity, "Quem +habuit successorem Belus rex Assiriorum?" (Whom did Belus, king of the +Assyrians, have for successor?) + +It so happened that the tutor had taught the boy to pronounce the +Latin language after the Italian fashion. Wherefore, when the lad +answered "Ninum," who was really the successor of Belus, king of the +Assyrians, he pronounced the last two letters "um" like the French +nasal "on," which gave the name of the Assyrian king the same sound as +that of Ninon de l'Enclos, the terrible bête noir of the jealous +Marquise. This was enough to set her off into a spasm of fury against +the luckless tutor, who could not understand why he should be so +berated over a simple question and its correct answer. The Marquise +not understanding Latin, and guided only by the sound of the answer, +which was similar to the name of her hated rival, jumped at the +conclusion that he was answering some question about Ninon de +l'Enclos. + +"You are giving my son a fine education," she snapped out before all +her guests, "by entertaining him with the follies of his father. From +the answer of the young Marquis I judge of the impertinence of your +question. Go, leave my sight, and never enter it again." + +The unfortunate tutor vainly protested that he did not comprehend her +anger, that he meant no affront, that there was no other answer to be +made than "Ninum," unfortunately, again pronouncing the word "Ninon," +which nearly sent the lady into a fit of apoplexy with rage at hearing +the tabooed name repeated in her presence. The incensed woman carried +the scene to a ridiculous point, refusing to listen to reason or +explanation. + +"No, he said 'Ninon,' and Ninon it was." + +The story spread all over Paris, and when it reached Ninon, she +laughed immoderately, her friends dubbing her "The successor of +Belus." Ninon told Molière the ridiculous story and he turned it to +profit in one of his comedies in the character of Countess +d'Escarbagnas. + +At the expiration of three years, peace had come to France after a +fashion, the cabals were not so frequent and the rivalry between the +factions not so bitter. Whatever differences there had been were +patched up or smoothed over. Ninon's return to the house in the Rue +des Tournelles was hailed with joy by her "Birds," who received her as +one returned from the dead. Saint-Evremond composed an elegy beginning +with these lines: + +Chère Philis, qu'êtes vous devenues? +Cet enchanteur qui vous a retenue +Depuis trois ans par un charme nouveau +Vous retient-il en quelque vieux château? + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Marquis de Sévigné + + +It has been attempted to cast odium upon the memory of Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos because of her connection with the second Marquis de Sévigné, +son of the celebrated Madame de Sévigné, whose letters have been read +far and wide by those who fancy they can find something in them with +reference to the morals and practices of the court of Versailles +during her period. + +The Marquis de Sévigné, by a vitiated taste quite natural in men of +weak powers, had failed to discover in a handsome woman, spirited, +perhaps of too jealous a nature or disposition to be esteemed, the +proper sentiments, or sentiments strong enough to retain his +affections. He implored Ninon to aid him in preserving her affections +and to teach him how to secure her love. Ninon undertook to give him +instructions in the art of captivating women's hearts, to show him the +nature of love and its operations, and to give him an insight into the +nature of women. The Marquis profited by these lessons to fall in love +with Ninon, finding her a thousand times more charming than his +actress or his princess. Madame de Sévigné's letter referring to the +love of her son for Ninon testifies by telling him plainly "Ninon +spoiled your father," that this passion was not so much unknown to +her as it was a matter of indifference. + +The young Chevalier de Vassé often gave brilliant receptions in honor +of Ninon at Saint Cloud, which the Marquis de Sévigné always attended +as the mutual friend of both. De Vassé was well acquainted with +Ninon's peculiarities and knew that the gallantry of such a man as de +Sévigné was a feeble means of retaining the affections of a heart that +was the slave of nothing but its own fugitive desires. But he was a +man devoted to his friends and, being Epicurean in his philosophy, he +did not attempt to interfere with the affection he perceived growing +between Ninon and his friend. It never occurred to the Marquis that he +was guilty of a betrayal of friendship by paying court to Ninon, and +the latter took the Marquis' attentions as a matter of course without +considering the ingratitude of her conduct. She rather flattered +herself at having been sufficiently attractive to capture a man of de +Seine's family distinction. She had captured the heart of de Soigné, +the father, and had received so many animadversions upon her conduct +from Madame de Sévigné, that it afforded her great pleasure to "spoil" +the son as she had the father. + +But her satisfaction was short-lived, for she had the chagrin to learn +soon after her conquest that de Sévigné had perished on the field of +honor at the hands of Chevalier d'Albret. Her sorrow was real, of +course, but the fire lighted by the senses is small and not enduring, +and when the occasion arises regret is not eternalized, besides there +were others waiting with impatience. His successful rival out of the +way, de Vassé supposed he had a clear field, but he did not attain his +expected happiness. He was no longer pleasing to Ninon and she did no: +hesitate to make him understand that he could never hope to win her +heart. According to her philosophy there is nothing so shameful in a +tender friendship as the art of dissimulation. + +As has been said, much odium has been cast upon Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos in this de Sévigné matter. It all grew out of the dislike of +Madame de Sévigné for a woman who attracted even her own husband and +son from her side and heart, and for whom her dearest friends +professed the most intimate attachment. Madame de Grignan, the proud, +haughty daughter of the house of de Sévigné, did not scruple to array +herself on the side of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos with Madame de +Coulanges, another bright star among the noble and respectable +families of France. + +"Women have the privilege of being weak," says Madame de Sévigné, "and +they make use of that privilege without scruple." + +Women had never, before the time of Ninon, exercised their rights of +weakness to such an unlimited extent. There was neither honor nor +honesty to be found among them. They were common to every man who +attracted their fancy without regard to fidelity to any one in +particular. The seed sown by the infamous Catherine de Medici, the +utter depravity of the court of Charles IX, and the profligacy of +Henry IV, bore an astonishing supply of bitter fruit. The love of +pleasure had, so to speak, carried every woman off her feet, and there +was no limit to their abuses. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, while devoting +herself to a life of pleasure, followed certain philosophical rules +and regulations which removed from the unrestrained freedom of the +times the stigma of commonness and conferred something of +respectability upon practices that nowadays would be considered +horribly immoral, but which then were regarded as nothing uncommon, +nay, were legitimate and proper. The cavaliers cut one another's +throats for the love of God and in the cause of religion, and the +women encouraged the arts, sciences, literature, and the drama, by +conferring upon talent, wit, genius and merit favors which were deemed +conducive as encouragements to the growth of intellect and +spirituality. + +Ninon was affected by the spirit of the times, and being a woman, it +was impossible for her to resist desire when aided by philosophy and +force of example. Her intimacy with de Sévigné grew out of her attempt +to teach a young, vigorous, passionate man how to gain the love of a +cold-blooded, vain and conceited woman. Her letters will show the +various stages of her desires as she went along vainly struggling to +beat something like comprehension into the dull brain of a clod, who +could not understand the simplest principle of love, or the smallest +point in the female character. At last she resolved to use an argument +that was convincing with the brightest minds with whom she had ever +dealt, that is, the power of her own love, and if the Marquis had +lived, perhaps he might have become an ornament to society and an +honor to his family. + +To do this, however, she violated her compact with de Vassé, betrayed +his confidence and opened the way for the animadversions of Madame de +Sévigné. At that time de Sévigné was in love with an actress, +Mademoiselle Champmêlé, but desired to withdraw his affections, or +rather transfer them to a higher object, a countess, or a princess, as +the reader may infer from his mother's hints in one of her letters to +be given hereafter. To Ninon, therefore, he went for instruction and +advice as to the best course to pursue to get rid of one love and on +with a new. Madame de Sévigné and Madame de La Fayette vainly implored +him to avoid Ninon as he would the pest. The more they prayed and +entreated, the closer he came to Ninon until she became his ideal. +Ninon, herself was captivated by his pleasant conversation, agreeable +manners and seductive traits. She knew that he had had a love affair +with Champmêlé, the actress, and when she began to obtain an +ascendency over his mind, she wormed out of him all the letters he had +ever received from the comedienne. Some say it was jealousy on Ninon's +part, but any one who reads her letters to de Sévigné will see between +the lines a disposition on his part to wander away after a new +charmer. Others, however, say that she intended to send them to the +Marquis de Tonnerre, whom the actress had betrayed for de Sévigné. + +But Madame de Sévigné, to whom her son had confessed his folly in +giving up the letters, perhaps fearing to be embroiled in a +disgraceful duel over an actress, made him blush at his cruel +sacrifice of a woman who loved him, and made him understand that even +in dishonesty there were certain rules of honesty to be observed. She +worked upon his mind until he felt that he had committed a +dishonorable act, and when he had reached that point, it was easy to +get the letters away from Ninon partly by artifice, partly by force. +Madame de Sévigné tells the story in a letter to her daughter, Madame +de Grignan: + +"Elle (Ninon) voulut l'autre jour lui faire donner des lettres de la +comedienne (Champmêlé); il les lui donna; elle en était jalouse; elle +voulait les donner à un amant de la princesse, afin de lui faire +donner quelque coups de baudrier. Il me le vint dire: je lui fis voir +que c'était une infamie de couper ainsi la gorge à une petite créature +pour l'avoir aimer; je representai qu'elle n'avait point sacrifié ses +lettres, comme on voulait lui faire croire pour l'animer. Il entra +dans mes raisons; il courut chez Ninon, et moitié par adresse, et +moitié par force, il retira les lettres de cette pauvre diablesse." + +It was easy for a doting mother like Madame de Sévigné to credit +everything her son manufactured for her delectation. The dramatic +incident of de Sévigné taking letters from Ninon de l'Enclos partly by +ingenuity and partly by force, resembled his tale that he had left +Ninon and that he did not care for her while all the time they were +inseparable. He was truly a lover of Penelope, the bow of Ulysses +having betrayed his weakness. + +"The malady of his soul," says his mother, "afflicted his body. He +thought himself like the good Esos; he would have himself boiled in a +caldron with aromatic herbs to restore his vigor." + +But Ninon's opinion of him was somewhat different. She lamented his +untimely end, but did not hesitate to express her views. + +"He was a man beyond definition," was her panegyric. "He possessed a +soul of pulp, a body of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseed +in snow." + +She finally became ashamed of ever having loved him, and insisted that +they were never more than brother and sister. She tried to make +something out of him by exposing all the secrets of the female heart, +and initiating him in the mysteries of human love, but as she said: +"His heart was a pumpkin fricasseed in snow." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Family Tragedy + + +Some of Ninon's engagements following upon one another in quick +succession were the cause of an unusual disagreement, not to say +quarrel, between two rivals in her affections. A Marshal of France, +d'Estrées and the celebrated Abbé Deffiat disputed the right of +parentage, the dispute waxing warm because both contended for the +honor and could not see any way out of their difficulty, neither +consenting to make the slightest concession. Ninon, however, calmed +the tempest by suggesting a way out of the difficulty through the +hazard of the dice. Luck or good fortune for the waif declared in +favor of the warrior, who made a better guardian than the Abbé could +possibly have done, and brought him greater happiness. + +Ninon surrendered all her maternal rights in the child to the worthy +Marshal, who became in reality a tender and affectionate father to the +waif, cared for him tenderly and raised him up to a good position in +life. He placed him in the marine service, where, as the Chevalier de +la Bossière, he reached the grade of captain of a vessel, and died at +an advanced age respected by his brother officers and by all who knew +him. He inherited some of the talents of his mother, particularly +music, in which he was remarkably proficient. His apartments at +Toulon, where he was stationed, were crowded with musical instruments +and the works of the greatest masters. All the musicians traveling +back and forth between Italy and France made his house their +headquarters. The Chevalier accorded them a generous welcome on all +occasions; the only return demanded was an exhibition of their +proficiency in instrumental music. + +The happiness of this son solaced Ninon for his unfortunate birth, and +it would have been happy for her had she never had a second. But her +profound love for the Chevalier de Gersay overcame any scruples that +might have arisen in her mind against again yielding to the maternal +instinct, and another son came to her, one who was destined to meet a +most horrible fate and cause her the most exquisite mental torture. + +This de Gersay, who was famous for the temerity of his passion for the +queen, Anne of Austria, a fact he announced from the housetops of +Paris in his delirium, was as happy as a king over the boy that came +to him so unexpectedly, and lavished upon him the most extravagant +affection. He took him to his heart and trained him up in all the +accomplishments taught those of the highest rank and most noble blood. +The boy grew up and received the name of Chevalier de Villiers, +becoming a credit to his father. + +His mother was beyond sixty years of age when de Villiers began to +enter society, and her beauty was still remarkable according to the +chronicles of the times and the allusions made to it in the current +literature. She was as attractive in her appearance, and as lovable as +at twenty years of age, few, even among the younger habitués of her +drawing-rooms being able to resist the charms of her person. Her house +was thronged with the élite of French society, young men of noble +families being designedly sent into her society to acquire taste, +grace, and polish which they were unable to acquire elsewhere. Ninon +possessed a singular genius for inspiring men with high and noble +sentiments, and her schooling in the art of etiquette was marvelous in +its details and perfection. Her power was practically a repetition of +the history of the Empress Theodora, whose happy admirers and +intimates could be distinguished from all others by their exquisite +politeness, culture, finish and social polish. It was the same in +Ninon's school, the graduates of which occupied the highest rank in +letters, society, statesmanship, and military genius. + +De Gersay intending his son to fill a high position in society and +public honors, sent him to this school, where he was received and put +upon the same footing as other youth of high birth, and was duly +trained with them in all the arts and accomplishments of refined +society. The young man was not aware of his parentage, de Gersay +having extracted a solemn promise from Mademoiselle de l'Enclos that +she would never divulge the secret of the youth's birth without his +father's express consent, a promise which resulted in the most +disastrous consequences. + +Ninon, as mother of this handsome youth, admired him, and manifested a +tenderness which he misunderstood for the emotion of love, Ninon, +herself never contemplating such a fatality, and ended by becoming +enamored of his own mother. Ninon thought nothing of his passion, +believing that it would soon pass away, but it increased in intensity, +becoming a violent flame which finally proved irresistible, forcing +the youth to fall at his mother's feet and pour forth his passion in +the most extravagant language. + +Alarmed at this condition of her son's heart, Ninon withdrew from his +society, refusing to admit him to her presence. Although the Chevalier +was an impetuous wooer, he was dismayed by the loss of his inamorata, +and begged for the privilege of seeing her, promising solemnly never +to repeat his declaration of love. Ninon was deceived by his +professions and re-admitted him to her society. Insensibly, however, +perhaps in despite of his struggle to overcome his amorous +propensities, the Chevalier violated the conditions of the truce. +Ninon, on the watch for a repetition of his former manifestations, +quickly perceived the return of a love so abhorrent to nature. His +sighs, glances, sadness when in her presence, were signs to her of a +passion that she would be compelled to subdue with a strong, ruthless +hand. + +"Raise your eyes to that clock," she said to him one day, "and mark +the passing of time. Rash boy, it is sixty-five years since I came +into the world. Does it become me to listen to a passion like love? +Is it possible at my age to love or be loved? Enter within yourself, +Chevalier, and see how ridiculous are your desires and those you would +arouse in me." + +All Ninon's remonstrances, however, tended only to increase the +desires which burned in the young man's breast. His mother's tears, +which now began to flow, were regarded by the youth as trophies of +success. + +"What, tears?" he exclaimed, "you shed tears for me? Are they wrung +from your heart by pity, by tenderness? Ah, am I to be blessed?" + +"This is terrible," she replied, "it is insanity. Leave me, and do not +poison the remainder of a life which I detest." + +"What language is this?" exclaimed the Chevalier. "What poison can the +sweetness of making still another one happy instill into the loveliest +life? Is this the tender and philosophic Ninon? Has she not raised +between us that shadow of virtue that makes her sex adorable? What +chimeras have changed your heart? Shall I tell you? You carry your +cruelty to the extent of fighting against yourself, resisting your own +desires. I have seen in your eyes a hundred times less resistance than +you now set against me. And these tears which my condition has drawn +from your eyes--tell me, are they shed through indifference or hate? +Are you ashamed to avow a sensibility which honors humanity?" + +"Cease, Chevalier," said Ninon, raising her hand in protest, "the +right to claim my liveliest friendship rested with you, I thought you +worthy of it. That is the cause of the friendly looks which you have +mistaken for others of greater meaning, and it is also the cause of +the tears I shed. Do not flatter yourself that you have inspired me +with the passion of love. I can see too plainly that your desires are +the effect of a passing presumption. Come now, you shall know my +heart, and it should destroy all hope for you. It will go so far as to +hate you, if you repeat your protestations of blind tenderness. I do +not care to understand you, leave me, to regret the favors you have so +badly interpreted." + +When Ninon learned that her son was plunged into despair and fury on +account of her rejection of his love, her heart was torn with sorrow +and she regretted that she had not at first told him the secret of his +birth, but her solemn promise to de Gersay had stood in her way. She +determined now to remedy the evil and she therefore applied to de +Gersay to relieve her from her promise. De Gersay advised her to +communicate the truth to her son as soon as possible to prevent a +catastrophe which he prophesied was liable to happen when least +expected. She accordingly wrote the Chevalier that at a certain time +she would be at her house in the Saint Antoine suburb and prayed him +to meet her there. The impassioned Chevalier, expecting nothing less +than the gratification of his desires, prepared himself with extreme +care and flew to the assignation. He was disconcerted, however, by +finding Ninon despondent and sad, instead of smiling and joyful with +anticipation. However, he cast himself at her feet, seized her hand +and covered it with tears and kisses. + +"Unfortunate," cried Ninon submitting to his embraces, "there are +destinies beyond human prudence to direct. What have I not attempted +to do to calm your agitated spirit? What mystery do you force me to +unfold?" + +"Ah, you are about to deceive me again," interrupted the Chevalier, "I +do not perceive in your eyes the love I had the right to expect. I +recognize in your obscure language an injustice you are about to +commit; you hope to cure me of my love, but disabuse yourself of that +fancy; the cruel triumph you seek to win is beyond the united strength +of both of us, above any imaginable skill, beyond the power of reason +itself. It seems to listen to nothing but its own intoxication, and at +the same time rush to the last extremity." + +"Stop," exclaimed Ninon, indignant at this unreasoning folly, "this +horrible love shall not reach beyond the most sacred duties. Stop, I +tell you, monster that you are, and shudder with dismay. Can love +flourish where horror fills the soul? Do you know who you are and who +I am? The lover you are pursuing--" + +"Well! That lover?" demanded the Chevalier. + +"Is your mother," replied Ninon; "you owe me your birth. It is my son +who sighs at my feet, who talks to me of love. What sentiments do you +think you have inspired me with? Monsieur de Gersay, your father, +through an excess of affection for you, wished you to remain ignorant +of your birth. Ah, my son, by what fatality have you compelled me to +reveal this secret? You know to what degree of opprobrium the +prejudiced have put one of your birth, wherefore it was necessary to +conceal it from your delicacy of mind, but you would not have it so. +Know me as your mother, oh, my son, and pardon me for having given you +life." + +Ninon burst into a flood of tears and pressed her son to her heart, +but he seemed to be crushed by the revelations he heard. Pale, +trembling, nerveless, he dared not pronounce the sweet name of mother, +for his soul was filled with horror at his inability to realize the +relationship sufficiently to destroy the burning passion he felt for +her person. He cast one long look into her eyes, bent them upon the +ground, arose with a deep sigh and fled. A garden offered him a +refuge, and there, in a thick clump of bushes, he drew his sword and +without a moment's hesitation fell upon it, to sink down dying. + +Ninon had followed him dreading some awful calamity, and there, in the +dim light of the stars, she found her son weltering in his blood, shed +by his own hand for love of her. His dying eyes which he turned toward +her still spoke ardent love, and he expired while endeavoring to utter +words of endearment. + +Le Sage in the romance of Gil Blas has painted this horrible +catastrophe of Ninon de l'Enclos in the characters of the old woman +Inisilla de Cantarilla, and the youth Don Valerio de Luna. The +incident is similar to that which happened to Oedipus, the Theban who +tore out his eyes after discovering that in marrying Jocasta, the +queen, he had married his own mother. Le Sage's hero, however, mourns +because he had not been able to commit the crime, which gives the case +of Ninon's son a similar tinge, his self-immolation being due, not to +the horror of having indulged in criminal love for his own mother, but +to the regret at not having been able to accomplish his purpose. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Her Bohemian Environments + + +The daily and nightly doings at Ninon's house in the Rue des +Tournelles, if there is anything of a similar character in modern +society that can be compared to them, might be faintly represented by +our Bohemian circles, where good cheer, good fellowship, and freedom +from restraint are supposed to reign. There are, indeed, numerous +clubs at the present day styled "Bohemian," but except so far as the +tendency to relaxation appears upon the surface, they possess very few +of the characteristics of that society of "Birds" that assembled +around Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. They put aside all conventional +restraint, and the mental metal of those choice spirits clashed and +evolved brilliant sparks, bright rays of light, the luster of which +still glitters after a lapse of more than two centuries. + +Personally, Ninon was an enemy of pedantry in every form, demanding of +her followers originality at all times on penalty of banishment from +her circle. The great writer, Mynard, once related with tears in his +eyes that his daughter, who afterward became the Countess de +Feuquières, had no memory. Whereat Ninon laughed him out of his +sorrow: + +"You are too happy in having a daughter who has no memory; she will +not be able to make citations." + +That her society was sought by very good men is evidenced by the grave +theologians who found her companionship pleasant, perhaps salutary. A +celebrated Jesuit who did not scruple to find entertainment in her +social circle, undertook to combat her philosophy and show her the +truth from his point of view, but she came so near converting him to +her tenets that he abandoned the contest remarking with a laugh: + +"Well, well, Mademoiselle, while waiting to be convinced that you are +in error, offer up to God your unbelief." Rousseau has converted this +incident into an epigram. + +The grave and learned clergy of Port Royal also undertook the labor of +converting her, but their labor was in vain. + +"You know," she told Fontenelle, "what use I make of my body? Well, +then, it would be easier for me to obtain a good price for my soul, +for the Jansenists and Molinists are engaged in a competition of +bidding for it." + +She was not bigoted in the least, as the following incident will show: +One of her friends refused to send for a priest when in extremis, but +Ninon brought one to his bedside, and as the clergyman, knowing the +scepticism of the dying sinner, hesitated to exercise his functions, +she encouraged him to do his duty: + +"Do your duty, sir," she said, "I assure you that although our friend +can argue, he knows no more about the truth than you and I." + +The key to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos' character is to be found in her +toleration and liberality. Utterly unselfish, she had no thoughts +beyond the comfort and, happiness of her friends. For them she +sacrificed her person, an astounding sacrifice in a woman, one for +which a multitude have suffered martyrdom for refusing to make, and +are cited as models of virtue to be followed. Yet, notwithstanding her +strange misapplication or perversion of what the world calls "female +honor," her world had nothing but the most profound respect and +admiration for her. It requires an extremely delicate pencil to sketch +such a character, and even then, a hundred trials might result in +failing to seize upon its most vivid lights and shades and bring out +its best points. + +Standing out clearly defined through her whole life was a noble soul +that never stooped to anything common, low, debasing or vulgar. +Brought up from infancy in the society of men, taught to consider them +as her companions and equals, and treated by them as one of +themselves, she acquired a grace and a polish that made her society +desired by the proudest ladies of the court. There is no one in the +annals of the nations of the earth that can be compared to her. The +Aspasia of Pericles has been regarded by some as a sort of prototype, +but Aspasia was a common woman of the town, her thoughts were devoted +to the aggrandizement of one man, her love affairs were bestowed upon +an open market. On the contrary, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos never +bestowed her favors upon any but one she could ever after regard as an +earnest, unselfish friend. Their friendship was a source of delight to +her and she was Epicurean, in the enjoyment of everything that goes +with friendship. + +Saint-Evremond likens her to Leontium, the Athenian woman, celebrated +for her philosophy and for having dared to write a book against the +great Theophrastus, a literary venture which may have been the reason +why Saint-Evremond gave Ninon the title. Ninon's heart was weak, it is +true, but she had early learned those philosophical principles which +drew her senses away from that portion of her soul, and her +environments were those most conducive to the cultivation of the +senses which are so easily led away into seductive paths. But however +far her love of pleasure may have led her, her philosophical ideas and +practices did not succeed in destroying or even weakening any other +virtue. "The smallest fault of gallant women," says de la +Rochefoucauld, "is their gallantry." + +The distinguished Abbé Châteauneuf expresses a trait in her character +which drew to her side the most distinguished men of the period. + +"She reserved all her esteem, all her confidence for friendship, which +she always regarded as a respectable liaison," says the Abbé, "and to +maintain that friendship she permitted no diminution or relaxation." + +In other words she was constant and true, without whims or caprice. +The Comte de Segur, in his work on "Women, their Condition and +Influence in Society," says: "While Ninon de l'Enclos was fostering +and patronizing genius, and giving it opportunities to expand, Madame +de Sévigné was at the head of a cabal in opposition to genius, unless +it was measured upon her own standard. In her self-love she wrought +against Racine and sought to diminish the literary luster of Flèchier. +But with all her ability Madame de Sévigné possessed very little +genius or tact, and her lack of discrimination is apparent in the fact +that none of her protégés ever reached any distinction. Moreover, her +virtues must have been of an appalling character since they were not +strong enough to save her husband and son from falling into the +clutches of "That horrid woman," referring to Ninon. + +Ninon certainly understood men; she divined them at the first glance +and provided for their bodily and intellectual wants. If they were +deemed worthy of her favors, she bestowed them freely, and out of one +animal desire gratified, there were created a thousand intellectual +aspirations. She understood clearly that man can not be all animal or +all spiritual, and that the attempt to divert nature from its duality +of being was to wreck humanity and make of man neither fish, flesh nor +fowl. Her constant prayer in her younger days, for the truth of which +Voltaire vouches, was: + +"Mon Dieu, faîtes de moi un honnête homme, et n'en faîtes jamais une +honnête femme." (My God, make me an honest man, but never an honest +woman). + +Count Segur, in his book already referred to, has this to say further +concerning Ninon: + +"Ninon shone under the reign of Louis XIV like a graceful plant in its +proper soil. Splendor seemed to be her element. That Ninon might +appear in the sphere that became her, it was necessary that Turenne +and Condé should sigh at her feet, that Voltaire should receive from +her his first lessons, in a word, that in her illustrious cabinet, +glory and genius should be seen sporting with love and the graces." + +Had it not been for the influence of Ninon de l'Enclos--there are many +who claim it as the truth--the sombre tinge, the veil of gloominess +and hypocritical austerity which surrounded Madame de Maintenon and +her court, would have wrecked the intellects of the most illustrious +and brightest men in France, in war, literature, science, and +statesmanship. Madame de Maintenon resisted that influence but the Rue +des Tournelles strove against Saint Cyr. The world fluctuated between +these two systems established by women, both of them--shall it be +said--courtesans? The legality and morality of our modern common law +marriages and the ease and frequency of trivial divorces forbid it. +Ninon prevailed, however, and not only governed hearts but souls. The +difference between the two courts was, the royal salon was thronged +with women of the most infamous character who had nothing but their +infamy to bestow, while the drawing rooms of Ninon de l'Enclos were +crowded with men almost exclusively, and men of wit and genius. + +The moral that the majority of writers draw from the three courts that +occupied society at that time, the Rue des Tournelles, Madame de +Sévigné, and Versailles, is, that men demand human nature and will +have it in preference to abnormal goodness, and female debauchery. +Ninon never hesitated to declaim against the fictitious beauty that +pretended to inculcate virtue and morality while secretly engaged in +the most corrupt practices, but Molière came with his Précieuses +Ridicules and pulverized the enemies of human nature. Ninon did not +know Molière personally at that time but she was so loud in his praise +for covering her gross imitators with confusion, that Bachaumont and +Chapelle, two of her intimate friends, ventured to introduce the young +dramatist into her society. The father of this Bachaumont who was a +twin, said of him: "My son who is only half a man, wants to do as if +he were a whole one." Though only "half a man" and extremely feeble +and delicate, he became a voluptuary according to the ideas of +Chapelle, and by devoting himself to the doctrines of Epicurus, he +managed to live until eighty years of age. Chapelle was a drunkard as +has been intimated in a preceding chapter, and although he loved Ninon +passionately, she steadily refused to favor him. + +Molière and Ninon were mutually attracted, each recognizing in the +other not only a kindred spirit, but something not apparent on the +surface. Nature had given them the same eyes, and they saw men and +things from the same view point. Molière was destined to enlighten his +age by his pen, and Ninon through her wise counsel and sage +reflections. In speaking of Molière to Saint-Evremond, she declared +with fervor: + +"I thank God every night for finding me a man of his spirit, and I +pray Him every morning to preserve him from the follies of the heart." + +There was a great opposition to Molière's comedy "Tartuffe." It +created a sensation in society, and neither Louis XIV, the prelates of +the kingdom and the Roman legate, were strong enough to withstand the +torrents of invectives that came from those who were unmasked in the +play. They succeeded in having it interdicted, and the comedy was on +the point of being suppressed altogether, when Molière took it to +Ninon, read it over to her and asked her opinion as to what had better +be done. With her keen sense of the ridiculous and her knowledge of +character, Ninon went over the play with Molière to such good purpose +that the edict of suppression was withdrawn, the opponents of the +comedy finding themselves in a position where they could no longer +take exceptions without confessing the truth of the inuendoes. + +When the comedy was nearly completed, Molière began trying to think of +a name to give the main character in the play, who is an imposter. One +day while at dinner with the Papal Nuncio, he noticed two +ecclesiastics, whose air of pretended mortification fairly represented +the character he had depicted in the play. While considering them +closely, a peddler came along with truffles to sell. One of the pious +ecclesiastics who knew very little Italian, pricked up his ears at the +word truffles, which seemed to have a familiar sound. Suddenly coming +out of his devout silence, he selected several of the finest of the +truffles, and holding them out to the nuncio, exclaimed with a laugh: +"Tartuffoli, Tartuffoli, signor Nuncio!" imagining that he was +displaying his knowledge of the Italian language by calling out +"Truffles, truffles, signor Nuncio," whereas, what he did say was +"Hypocrites, hypocrites, Signor Nuncio." Molière who was always a +close and keen observer of everything that transpired around him, +seized upon the name "Tartuffe" as suitable to the hypocritical +imposter in his comedy. + +Ninon's brilliancy was so animated, particularly at table, that she +was said to be intoxicated at the soup, although she rarely drank +anything but water. Her table was always surrounded by the wittiest of +her friends and her own flashes kept their spirits up to the highest +point. The charm of her conversation was equal to the draughts of +Nepenthe which Helen lavished upon her guests, according to Homer to +charm and enchant them. + +One story told about Ninon is not to her credit if true, and it is +disputed. A great preacher arose in France, the "Eagle of the Pulpit," +as he was called, or "The great Pan," as Madame de Sévigné, loved to +designate him. His renown for eloquence and piety reached Ninon's ears +and she conceived a scheme, so it is said; to bring this great orator +to her feet. She had held in her chains from time to time, all the +heroes, and illustrious men of France, and she considered Père +Bourdaloue worthy of a place on the list. She accordingly arrayed +herself in her most fascinating costume, feigned illness and sent for +him. But Père Bourdaloue was not a man to be captivated by any woman, +and, moreover, he was a man too deeply versed in human perversity to +be easily deceived. He came at her request, however, and to her +question as to her condition he answered: "I perceive that your malady +exists only in your heart and mind; as to your body, it appears to me +to be in perfect health. I pray the great physician of souls that he +will heal you." Saying which he left her without ceremony. + +The story is probably untrue and grew out of a song of the times, to +ridicule the attempts of numerous preachers to convert Ninon from her +way of living. They frequented her social receptions but those were +always public, as she never trusted herself to any one without the +knowledge and presence of some of her "Birds," taking that precaution +for her own safety and to avoid any appearance of partiality. The song +referred to, composed by some unknown scribe begins as follows: + +"Ninon passe les jours au jeu: +Cours où l'amour te porte; +Le prédicateur qui t'exhorte, +S'il était au coin de ton feu, +Te parlerait d'un autre sorte." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A Remarkable Old Age + + +When Ninon had reached the age of sixty-five years, there were those +among the beauties of the royal court who thought she ought to retire +from society and make way for them, but there appeared to be no +diminution of her capacity for pleasure, no weakening of her powers of +attraction. The legend of the Noctambule, or the little black man, who +appeared to Ninon when she was at the age of twenty years, and +promised her perpetual beauty and the conquest of all hearts, was +revived, and there was enough probability in it to justify a strong +belief in the story. Indeed, the Abbé Servien spread it about again +when Ninon was seventy years of age, and even then there were few who +disputed the mysterious gift as Ninon showed little change. + +As old age approached, Ninon ceased to be regarded with that +familiarity shown her by her intimates in her younger days, and a +respect and admiration took its place. She was no longer "Ninon," but +"Mademoiselle de l'Enclos." Her social circle widened, and instead of +being limited to men exclusively, ladies eagerly took advantage of the +privilege accorded them to frequent the charming circle. That circle +certainly became celebrated. The beautiful woman had lived the life of +an earnest Epicurean in her own way, regardless of society's +conventionalities, and had apparently demonstrated that her way was +the best. She had certainly attained a long life, and what was more to +the purpose she had preserved her beauty and the attractions of her +person were as strong as when she was in her prime. Reason enough why +the women of the age thronged her apartments to learn the secret of +her life. Moreover, her long and intimate associations with the most +remarkable men of the century had not failed to impart to her, in +addition to her exquisite femininity, the wisdom of a sage and the +polish of a man of the world. + +Madame de La Fayette, that "rich field so fertile in fruits," as Ninon +said of her, and Madame de la Sablière, "a lovely garden enameled with +eye-charming flowers," another of Ninon's descriptive metaphors, +passed as many hours as they could in her society with the illustrious +Duke de la Rochefoucauld, who, up to the time of his death honored +Ninon with his constant friendship and his devoted esteem. Even Madame +de Sévigné put aside her envy and jealousy and never wearied of the +pleasure of listening to the conversation of this wise beauty, in +company with her haughty daughter, Madame de Grignan, Madame de +Coulanges, Madame de Torp, and, strange to say, the Duchess de +Bouillon. + +Her friends watched over her health with the tenderest care and +affection, and even her slightest indisposition brought them around +her with expressions of the deepest solicitude. They dreaded losing +her, for having had her so long among them they hoped to keep her +always, and they did, practically, for she outlived the most of them. +As proof of the anxiety of her friends and the delight they +experienced at her recovery from the slightest ailment, one +illustration will suffice. + +On one occasion she had withdrawn from her friends for a single +evening, pleading indisposition. The next evening she reappeared and +her return was celebrated by an original poem written by no less a +personage than the Abbé Regnier-Desmarais, who read it to the friends +assembled around her chair: + +"Clusine qui dans tous les temps + Eut de tous les honnêtes gens + L'amour et l'estime en partage: + Qui toujours pleine de bon sens + Sut de chaque saison de l'âge + Faire à propos un juste usage: +Qui dans son entretien, dont on fut enchanté + Sut faire un aimable alliage + De l'agreable badinage, + Avec la politesse et la solidité, + Et que le ciel doua d'un esprit droit et sage, + Toujours d'intelligence avec la verité, +Clusine est, grâce au ciel, en parfaite santé." + +Such a poem would not be accorded much praise nowadays, but the hearts +of her friends regarded the sentiments more than the polish, as a +substantial translation into English will serve to show appeared in +the lines: + +Clusine who from our earliest ken + Had from all good and honest men + Love and esteem a generous share: + Who knew so well the season when + Her heritage of sense so rare + To use with justice and with care: +Who in her discourse, friends enchanted all-around, + Could fashion out of playful ware + An alloy of enduring wear, + Good breeding and with solid ground, + A heavenly spirit wise and fair, + With truth and intellect profound, +Clusine, thanks be to Heaven, her perfect health has found. + +Her salon was open to her friends in general from five o'clock in the +evening until nine, at which hour she begged them to permit her to +retire and gain strength for the morrow. In winter she occupied a +large apartment decorated with portraits of her dearest male and +female friends, and numerous paintings by celebrated artists. In +summer, she occupied an apartment which overlooked the boulevard, its +walls frescoed with magnificent sketches from the life of Psyche. In +one or the other of these salons, she gave her friends four hours +every evening, after that retiring to rest or amusing herself with a +few intimates. Her friendship finds an apt illustration in the case of +the Comte de Charleval. He was always delicate and in feeble health, +and Ninon when he became her admirer in his youth, resolved to +prolong his life through the application of the Epicurian philosophy. +De Marville, speaking of the Count, whom no one imagined would survive +to middle age, says: "Nature, which gave him so delicate a body in +such perfect form, also gave him a delicate and perfect intelligence." +This frail and delicate invalid, lived, however, until the age of +eighty years, and was always grateful to Ninon for her tenderness. He +never missed a reception and sang her praises on every occasion. +Writing to Saint-Evremond to announce his death, Ninon, herself very +aged, says: "His mind had retained all the charms of his youth, and +his heart all the sweetness and tenderness of a true friend." She felt +the loss of this common friend, for she again writes of him afterward: +"His life and that I live had much in common. It is like dying oneself +to meet with such a loss." + +It was at this period of her life that Ninon occupied her time more +than ever in endearing herself to her friends. As says Saint-Evremond: +"She contents herself with ease and rest, after having enjoyed the +liveliest pleasures of life." Although she was never mistress of the +invincible inclination toward the pleasures of the senses which nature +had given her, it appears that Ninon made some efforts to control +them. Referring to the ashes which are sprinkled on the heads of the +penitent faithful on Ash Wednesday, she insisted that instead of the +usual prayer of abnegation there should be substituted the words: "We +must avoid the movements of love." What she wrote Saint-Evremond +might give rise to the belief that she sometimes regretted her +weakness: "Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of in my +time than many another. However that may be, if any one had proposed +to me such a life I would have hanged myself." One of her favorite +maxims, however, was: "We must provide a stock of provisions and not +of pleasures, they should be taken as they come." + +That her philosophical principles did not change, is certain from the +fact that she retained all her friends and gained new ones who flocked +to her reunions. Says Madame de Coulanges in one of her letters: "The +women are running after Mademoiselle de l'Enclos now as much as the +men used to do. How can any one hate old age after such an example." +This reflection did not originate with Ninon, who regretted little her +former pleasures, and besides, friendship with her had as many sacred +rights as love. From what Madame de Coulanges says, one might suppose +that the men had deserted Ninon in her old age, leaving women to take +their place, but Madame de Sévigné was of a different opinion. She +says: "Corbinelli asks me about the new marvels taking place at +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos' house in the way of good company. She +assembles around her in her old age, whatever Madame de Coulanges may +say to the contrary, both men and women, but even if women did not +flock to her side, she could console herself for having had men in her +young days to please." + +The celebrated English geometrician, Huygens, visited Ninon during a +sojourn at Paris in the capacity of ambassador. He was so charmed +with the attractions of her person, and with her singing, that he fell +into poetry to express his admiration. French verses from an +Englishman who was a geometrician and not a poet, were as surprising +to Ninon and her friends as they will be to the reader. They are not +literature but express what was in the mind of the famous scientist: + +"Elle a cinq instruments dont je suis amoureux, +Les deux premiers, ses mains, les deux autres, ses yeux; +Pour le dernier de tous, et cinquième qui reste, +Il faut être galant et leste." + +In the year 1696, when Ninon had reached eighty, she had several +attacks of illness which worried her friends exceedingly. The Marquis +de Coulanges writes: "Our amiable l'Enclos has a cold which does not +please me." A short time afterward he again wrote: "Our poor l'Enclos +has a low fever which redoubles in the evening, and a sore throat +which worries her friends." These trifling ailments were nothing to +Ninon, who, though growing feeble, maintained her philosophy, as she +said: "I am contenting myself with what happens from day to day; +forgetting to-day what occurred yesterday, and holding on to a used up +body as one that has been very agreeable." She saw the term of her +life coming to an end without any qualms or fear. "If I could only +believe with Madame de Chevreuse, that by dying we can go and talk +with all our friends in the other world, it would be a sweet thought." + +Madame de Maintenon, then in the height of her power and influence, +had never forgotten the friend of her youth, and now, she offered her +lodgings at Versailles. It is said that her intention was to enable +the king to profit by an intimacy with a woman of eighty-five years +who, in spite of bodily infirmities, possessed the same vivacity of +mind and delicacy of taste which had contributed to her great renown, +much more than her personal charms and frailties. But Ninon was born +for liberty, and had never been willing to sacrifice her philosophical +tranquility for the hope of greater fortune and position in the world. +Accordingly, she thanked her old friend, and as the only concession +she would grant, consented to stand in the chapel of Versailles where +Louis the Great could pass and satisfy his curiosity to see once, at +least, the astonishing marvel of his reign. + +During the latter years of her life, she took a fancy to young +Voltaire, in whom she detected signs of future greatness. She +fortified him with her counsel, which he prayed her to give him, and +left him a thousand francs in her will to buy books. Voltaire +attempted to earn the money by ridiculing the memory of his +benefactress. + +At the age of ninety years, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos grew feebler +every day, and felt that death would not be long coming. She performed +all her social duties, however, until the very end, refusing to +surrender until compelled. On the last night of her life, unable to +sleep, she arose, and at her desk wrote the following verses: + +"Qu'un vain espoir ne vienne point s'offrir, +Qui puisse ébranler mon courage; +Je suis en age de mourir; +Que ferais-je ici davantage?" + +(Let no vain hope now come and try, +My courage strong to overthrow; +My age demands that I shall die, +What more can I do here below?) + +On the seventeenth of October, 1706, she expired as gently as one who +falls asleep. + + + + +LETTERS + +OF + +NINON de L'ENCLOS + +TO THE + +MARQUIS de SÉVIGNÉ. + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS + + +The celebrated Abbé de Châteauneuf, in his "Dialogues on Ancient +Music," refers to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos under the name of +"Leontium," a name given her by le Maréchal de Saint-Evremond, and in +his eulogy upon her character, lays great stress on the genius +displayed in her epistolary style. After censuring the affectation to +be found in the letters of Balzac and Voiture, the learned Abbé says: + +"The letters of Leontium, although novel in their form of expression, +although replete with philosophy, and sparkling with wit and +intelligence contain nothing stilted, or overdrawn. + +"Inasmuch as the moral to be drawn from them is always seasoned with +sprightliness, and the spirit manifested in them, displays the +characteristics of a liberal and natural imagination, they differ in +nothing from personal conversation with her choice circle of friends. + +"The impression conveyed to the mind of their readers is, that she is +actually conversing with them personally." + +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos writes about the heart, love, and women. +Strange subjects, but no woman ever lived who was better able to do +justice to them. In her frame of mind, she could not see men without +studying their dispositions, and she knew them thoroughly, her +experience extending over a period of seventy-five years of intimate +association with men of every stamp, from the Royal prince to the +Marquis de Sévigné, the latter wearying her to such an extent that she +designated him as "a man beyond definition; with a soul of pulp, a +body of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseed in snow," his own +mother, the renowned Madame de Sévigné, admitting that he was "a heart +fool." + +Ninon took this weak Chevalier in charge and endeavored to make a man +of him by exposing his frailties, and, entering into a long +correspondence, to instruct him in the pathology of the female heart, +with which he was disposed to tamper on the slightest provocation. Her +letters will show that she succeeded finally in bringing him to +reason, but that in doing so, she was compelled to betray her own sex +by exposing the secret motives of women in their relations with men. + +That she knew women as well as men, can not be disputed, for, +beginning with Madame de Maintenon and the Queen of Sweden, Christine, +down along the line to the sweet Countess she guards so successfully +against the evil designs of the Marquis de Sévigné, including Madame +de La Fayette, Madame de Sévigné, Madame de La Sablière, and the most +distinguished and prominent society women of France, they all were her +particular friends, as well as intimates, and held her in high esteem +as their confidante in all affairs of the heart. + +No other woman ever held so unique a position in the world of society +as Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and her letters to the Marquis de Sévigné +may, therefore, be considered as standards of the epistolary art upon +the subjects she treats; as containing the most profound insight into +the female heart where love is concerned, and as forming a study of +the greatest value in everything that pertains to the relations +between the sexes. + +There is an entire absence of mawkish sentimentality, of effort to +conceal the secret motives and desires of the heart beneath specious +language and words of double meaning. On the contrary, they tear away +from the heart the curtain of deceit, artifice and treachery, to +expose the nature of the machinery behind the scenes. + +These letters must be read in the light of the opinions of the wisest +philosophers of the seventeenth century upon her character. + +"Inasmuch as the first use she (Mademoiselle de l'Enclos) made of her +reason, was to become enfranchised from vulgar errors, it is +impossible to be further removed from the stupid mistake of those who, +under the name of "passion," elevate the sentiment of love to the +height of a virtue. Ninon understood love to be what it really is, a +taste founded upon the senses, a blind sentiment, which admits of no +merit in the object which gives it birth, and which promises no +recompense; a caprice, the duration of which does not depend upon our +volition, and which is subject to remorse and repentance." + + + + +LETTERS OF NINON de L'ENCLOS + +TO THE + +MARQUIS de SÉVIGNÉ + + + +I. + +A Hazardous Undertaking. + +What, I, Marquis, take charge of your education, be your guide in the +enterprise upon which you are about to enter? You exact too much of my +friendship for you. You ought to be aware of the fact, that when a +woman has lost the freshness of her first youth, and takes a special +interest in a young man, everybody says she desires to "make a +worldling of him." You know the malignity of this expression. I do not +care to expose myself to its application. All the service I am willing +to render you, is to become your confidante. You will tell me your +troubles, and I will tell you what is in my mind, likewise aid you to +know your own heart and that of women. + +It grieves me to say, that whatever pleasure I may expect to find in +this correspondence, I can not conceal the difficulties I am liable to +encounter. The human heart, which will be the subject of my letters, +presents so many contrasts, that whoever lays it bare must fall into +a flood of contradictions. You think you have something stable in your +grasp, but find you have seized a shadow. It is indeed a chameleon, +which, viewed from different aspects, presents a variety of opposite +colors, and even they are constantly shifting. You may expect to read +many strange things in what I shall say upon this subject. I will, +however, give you my ideas, though they may often seem strange; +however, that shall be for you to determine. I confess that I am not +free from grave scruples of conscience, foreseeing that I can scarcely +be sincere without slandering my own sex a little. But at least you +will know my views on the subject of love, and particularly everything +that relates to it, and I have sufficient courage to talk to you +frankly upon the subject. + +I am to dine to-night with the Marquis de la Rochefoucauld. Madame de +la Sablière and La Fontaine will also be guests. If it please you to +be one of us, La Fontaine will regale you with two new stories, which, +I am told, do not disparage his former ones. Come Marquis--But, again +a scruple. Have I nothing to fear in the undertaking we contemplate? +Love is so malicious and fickle! Still, when I examine my heart, I do +not feel any apprehension for myself, it being occupied elsewhere, and +the sentiments I possess toward you resemble love less than +friendship. If the worst should happen and I lose my head some day, we +shall know how to withdraw in the easiest possible manner. + +We are going to take a course of morals together. Yes, sir, MORALS! +But do not be alarmed at the mere word, for there will be between us +only the question of gallantry to discuss, and that, you know, sways +morals to so high a degree that it deserves to be the subject of a +special study. The very idea of such a project is to me infinitely +risible. However, if I talk reason to you too often, will you not grow +weary? This is my sole anxiety, for you well know that I am a pitiless +reasoner when I wish to be. With any other heart than that which you +misunderstand, I could be a philosopher such as the world never knew. + +Adieu, I await your good pleasure. + + + + +II + +Why Love is Dangerous + + +I assure you, Marquis, I shall keep my word, and on all occasions, I +shall speak the truth, even though it be to my own detriment. I have +more stability in my disposition than you imagine, and I fear +exceedingly that the result of our intercourse may sometimes lead you +to think that I carry this virtue into severity. But you must remember +that I have only the external appearance of a woman, and that in mind +and heart I am a man. Here is the method that I wish to follow with +you. As I ask only to acquire information for myself before +communicating to you my ideas, my intention is to propound them to the +excellent man with whom we supped yesterday. It is true that he has +none too good an opinion of poor humanity. He believes neither in +virtue nor in spiritual things. But this inflexibility, mitigated by +my indulgence for human frailties, will give you, I believe, the kind +and the quantity of philosophy which is required in all intercourse +with women. Let us come to the gist of your letter. + +Since your entrance into the world it has offered you nothing, you +say, of what you had imagined you would find there. Disgust and +weariness follow you everywhere. You seek solitude, and as soon as +you are enjoying it, it wearies you. In a word, you do not know to +what cause to attribute the restlessness which torments you. I am +going to save you the trouble, I am, for my burden is to speak my +thoughts on everything that may perplex you; and I do not know but you +will often ask me questions as embarrassing for me to answer as they +may have been for you to ask. + +The uneasiness which you experience is caused only by the void in your +heart. Your heart is without love, and it is trying to make you +comprehend its wants. You have really what one calls the "need of +loving." Yes, Marquis, nature, in forming us, gave us an allowance of +sentiments which must expend themselves upon some object. Your age is +the proper period for the agitations of love; as long as this +sentiment does not fill your heart, something will always be wanting; +the restlessness of which you complain will never cease. In a word, +love is the nourishment of the heart as food is of the body; to love +is to fulfill the desire of nature, to satisfy a need. But if +possible, manage it so that it will not become a passion. To protect +you from this misfortune, I could almost be tempted to disprove the +counsel given you, to prefer, to the company of women capable of +inspiring esteem rather than love, the intercourse of those who pride +themselves on being amusing rather than sedate and prim. At your age, +being unable to think of entering into a serious engagement, it is not +necessary to find a friend in a woman; one should seek to find only +an amiable mistress. + +The intercourse with women of lofty principles, or those whom the +ravages of time force into putting themselves forward only by virtue +of great qualities, is excellent for a man who, like themselves, is on +life's decline. For you, these women would be too good company, if I +dare so express myself. Riches are necessary to us only in proportion +to our wants; and what you would better do, I think, is to frequent +the society of those who combine, with agreeable figure, gentleness in +conversation, cheerfulness in disposition, a taste for the pleasures +of society, and strong enough not to be frightened by one affair of +the heart. + +In the eyes of a man of reason they appear too frivolous, you will +say: but do you think they should be judged with so much severity? Be +persuaded, Marquis, that if, unfortunately, they should acquire more +firmness of character, they and you would lose much by it. You require +in women stability of character! Well, do you not find it in a +friend?--Shall I tell you what is in my mind? It is not our virtues +you need; but our playfulness and our weakness. The love which you +could feel for a woman who would be estimable in every respect, would +become too dangerous for you. Until you can contemplate a contract of +marriage, you should seek only to amuse yourself with those who are +beautiful; a passing taste alone should attach you to one of them: be +careful not to plunge in too deep with her; there can nothing result +but a bad ending. If you did not reflect more profoundly than the +greater part of young people, I should talk to you in an entirely +different tone; but I perceive that you are ready to give to excess, a +contrary meaning to their ridiculous frivolity. It is only necessary, +then, to attach yourself to a woman who, like an agreeable child, +might amuse you with pleasant follies, light caprices, and all those +pretty faults which make the charm of a gallant intercourse. + +Do you wish me to tell you what makes love dangerous? It is the +sublime view that one sometimes takes of it. But the exact truth is, +it is only a blind instinct which one must know how to appreciate: an +appetite which you have for one object in preference to another, +without being able to give the reason for your taste. Considered as a +friendly intimacy when reason presides, it is not a passion, it is no +longer love, it is, in truth, a warm hearted esteem, but tranquil; +incapable of drawing you away from any fixed position. If, walking in +the footsteps of our ancient heroes of romance, you aim at great +sentiments, you will see that this pretended heroism makes of love +only a sad and sometimes fatal folly. It is a veritable fanaticism; +but if you disengage it from all that opinion makes it, it will soon +be your happiness and pleasure. Believe me, if it were reason or +enthusiasm which formed affairs of the heart, love would become +insipid, or a frenzy. The only means of avoiding these two extremes is +to follow the path I have indicated. You need only to be amused, and +you will find amusement only among the women I mention to you as +capable of it. Your heart wishes occupation, they are made to fill it. +Try my recipe and you will find it good--I made you a fair promise, +and it seems to me I am keeping my word with you exactly. Adieu, I +have just received a charming letter from M. de Saint-Evremond, and I +must answer it. I wish at the same time to propose to him the ideas +which I have communicated to you, and I shall be very much mistaken if +he does not approve of them. + +To-morrow I shall have the Abbé de Châteauneuf, and perhaps Molière. +We shall read again the Tartuffe, in which some changes should be +made. Take notice, Marquis, that those who do not conform to all I +have just told you, have a little of the qualities of that character. + + + + +III + +Why Love Grows Cold + + +In despite of everything I may say to you, you still stick to your +first sentiment. You wish a respectable person for a mistress, and one +who can at the same time be your friend. These sentiments would +undoubtedly merit commendation if in reality they could bring you the +happiness you expect them to; but experience teaches you that all +those great expectations are pure illusions. Are serious qualities the +only question in pastimes of the heart? I might be tempted to believe +that romances have impaired your mental powers. Poor Marquis! He has +allowed himself to become fascinated by the sublime talk common in +conversation. But, my dear child, what do you mean to do with these +chimeras of reason? I willingly tell you, Marquis: it is very fine +coin, but it is a pity that it can not enter into commercial +transactions. + +When you wish to begin housekeeping, look for a reliable woman, full +of virtue and lofty principles. All this is becoming to the dignity of +the marriage tie; I intended to say, to its gravity. But at present, +as you require nothing but a love affair, beware of being serious, and +believe what I tell you; I know your wants better than you yourself +know them. Men usually say that they seek essential qualities in those +they love. Blind fools that they are! How they would complain could +they find them! What would they gain by being deified? They need only +amusement. A mistress as reasonable as you require would be a wife for +whom you would have an infinite respect, I admit, but not a particle +of ardor. A woman estimable in all respects is too subduing, +humiliates you too much, for you to love her long. Forced to esteem +her, and even sometimes to admire her, you can not excuse yourself for +ceasing to love her. So many virtues are a reproach too discreet, too +tiresome a critic of our eccentricities, not to arouse your pride at +last, and when that is humbled, farewell to love. Make a thorough +analysis of your sentiments, examine well your conscience, and you +will see that I speak the truth. I have but a moment left to say +adieu. + + + + +IV + +The Spice of Love + + +Do you know, Marquis, that you will end by putting me in a temper? +Heavens, how very stupid you are sometimes! I see it in your letter; +you have not understood me at all. Take heed; I did not say that you +should take for a mistress a despicable object. That is not at all my +idea. But I said that in reality you needed only a love affair, and +that, to make it pleasant, you should not attach yourself exclusively +to substantial qualities. I repeat it; when in love, men need only to +be amused; and I believe on this subject I am an authority. Traces of +temper and caprice, a senseless quarrel, all this has more effect upon +women, and retains their affection more than all the reason +imaginable, more than steadiness of character. + +Someone whom you esteem for the justice and strength of his ideas, +said one day at my house, that caprice in women was too closely allied +to beauty to be an antidote. I opposed this opinion with so much +animation, that it could readily be seen that the contrary maxim was +my sentiment, and I am, in truth, well persuaded that caprice is not +close to beauty, except to animate its charms in order to make them +more attractive, to serve as a goad, and to flavor them. There is no +colder sentiment, and none which endures less than admiration. One +easily becomes accustomed to see the same features, however regular +they may be, and when a little malignity does not give them life or +action, their very regularity soon destroys the sentiment they excite. +A cloud of temper, even, can give to a beautiful countenance the +necessary variety, to prevent the weariness of seeing it always in the +same state. In a word, woe to the woman of too monotonous a +temperament; her monotony satiates and disgusts. She is always the +same statue, with her a man is always right. She is so good, so +gentle, that she takes away from people the privilege of quarreling +with her, and this is often such a great pleasure! Put in her place a +vivacious woman, capricious, decided, to a certain limit, however, and +things assume a different aspect. The lover will find in the same +person the pleasure of variety. Temper is the salt, the quality which +prevents it from becoming stale. Restlessness, jealousy, quarrels, +making friends again, spitefulness, all are the food of love. +Enchanting variety! which fills, which occupies a sensitive heart much +more deliciously than the regularity of behavior, and the tiresome +monotony which is called "good disposition." + +I know how you men must be governed. A caprice puts you in an +uncertainty, which you have as much trouble and grief in dispelling as +though it were a victory obtained over a new object. Roughness makes +you hold your breath. You do not stop disputing, but neither do you +cease to conquer and to be conquered. In vain does reason sigh. You +can not comprehend how such an imp manages to subjugate you so +tyrannically. Everything tells you that the idol of your heart is a +collection of caprices and follies, but she is a spoiled child, whom +you can not help but love. The efforts which reflection causes you to +make to loosen them, serve only to forge still tighter your chains; +for love is never so strong as when you believe it ready to break away +in the heat of a quarrel. It loves, it storms; with it, everything is +convulsive. Would you reduce it to rule? It languishes, it expires. In +a word, this is what I wanted to say; do not take for a mistress a +woman who has only reliable qualities; but one who is sometimes +dominated by temper, and silences reason; otherwise I shall say that +it is not a love affair you want, but to set up housekeeping. + + + + +V + +Love and Temper + + +Oh, I agree with you, Marquis, a woman who has only temper and +caprices is very thorny for an acquaintance and in the end only +repels. I agree again that these irregularities must make of love a +never ending quarrel, a continual storm. Therefore, it is not for a +person of this character that I advise you to form an attachment. You +always go beyond my ideas. I only depicted to you in my last letter an +amiable woman, one who becomes still more so by a shade of diversity, +and you speak only of an unpleasant woman, who has nothing but +ungracious things to say. How we have drifted away from the point! + +When I spoke of temper I only meant the kind which gives a stronger +relish, anxiety, and a little jealousy: that, in a word, which springs +from love alone, and not from natural brutality, that roughness which +one ordinarily calls "bad temper." When it is love which makes a woman +rough, when that alone is the cause of her liveliness, what sort can +the lover be who has so little delicacy as to complain of it? Do not +these errors prove the violence of passion? For myself, I have always +thought that he who knew how to keep himself within proper bounds, +was moderately amorous. Can one be so, in effect, without allowing +himself to be goaded by the fire of a devouring impetuosity, without +experiencing all the revolutions which it necessarily occasions? No, +undoubtedly. Well! who can see all these disturbances in a beloved +object without a secret pleasure? While complaining of its injustice +and its transports, one feels no less deliciously at heart that he is +loved, and with passion, and that these same aggravations are most +convincing proofs that it is voluntary. + +There, Marquis, is what constitutes the secret charm of the troubles +which lovers sometimes suffer, of the tears they shed. But if you are +going to believe that I wished to tell you that a woman of bad temper, +capricious, can make you happy, undeceive yourself. I said, and I +shall always persist in my idea, that diversity is necessary, +caprices, bickerings, in a gallant intercourse, to drive away +weariness, and to perpetuate the strength of it. But consider that +these spices do not produce that effect except when love itself is the +source. If temper is born of a natural brusqueness, or of a restless, +envious, unjust disposition, I am the first one to say that such a +woman will become hateful, she will be the cause of disheartening +quarrels. A connection of the heart becomes then a veritable torment, +from which it is desirable to free oneself as quickly as possible. + + + + +VI + +Certain Maxims Concerning Love + + +You think, then, Marquis, that you have brought up an invincible +argument, when you tell me that one is not the master of his own +heart, in disposing of it where he wishes, and that consequently you +are not at liberty to choose the object of your attachment? Morals of +the opera! Abandon this commonplace to women who expect, in saying so, +to justify their weaknesses. It is very necessary that they should +have something to which to cling: like the gentleman of whom our +friend Montaigne speaks who, when the gout attacked him, would have +been very angry if he had not been able to say: "Cursed ham!" They say +it is a sympathetic stroke. That is too strong for me. Is anyone +master of his heart? He is no longer permitted to reply when such good +reasons are given. They have even so well sanctioned these maxims that +they wish to attract everyone to their arms in order to try to +overcome them. But these same maxims find so much approbation only +because everyone is interested in having them received. No one +suspects that such excuses, far from justifying caprices, may be a +confession that one does not wish to correct them. + +For myself, I take the liberty of being of a different opinion from +the multitude. It is enough for me that it is not impossible to +conquer one's inclination to condemn all those who are unreasonable or +dishonorable. Dear me! Have we not seen women succeed in destroying in +their hearts a weakness which has taken them by surprise, as soon as +they have discovered that the object of their affections was unworthy +of them? How often have they stifled the most tender affection, and +sacrificed it to the conventionalities of an establishment? Rest, +time, absence, are remedies which passion, however ardent one may have +supposed it, can never resist; insensibly it weakens, and dies all at +once. I know that to withdraw honorably from such a liaison requires +all the strength of reason. I comprehend still more, that the +difficulties you imagine stand in the way of maintaining a victory, do +not leave you enough courage to undertake it; so that, although I may +say that there are no invincible inclinations in the speculation, I +will admit that there are few of them to be vanquished by practice; +and it happens so, only because one does not like to attempt without +success. However that may be, on the whole, I imagine that there being +here only a question of gallantry, it would be folly to put you to the +torture, in order to destroy the inclination which has seized upon you +for a woman more or less amiable; but also, because you are not +smitten with anyone, I persist in saying that I was right in +describing to you the character which I believed would be the most +capable of making you happy. + +It is without doubt to be desired, that delicate sentiments, real +merit, should have more power over our hearts, and that they might be +able to occupy them and find a permanent place there forever. But +experience proves that this is not so. I do not reason from what you +should be, but from what you really are. My intention is to give you a +knowledge of the heart such as it is, and not what it ought to be. I +am the first one to regret the depravity of your taste, however +indulgent I may be to your caprices. But not being able to reform the +vices of the heart, I would at least teach you to draw out of them +whatever good you can. Not being able to render you wise, I try to +make you happy. It is an old saying: to wish to destroy the passions +would be to undertake our annihilation. It is only necessary to +regulate them. They are in our hands like the poison in a pharmacy; +compounded by a skillful chemist they become beneficent remedies. + + + + +VII + +Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo From Men + + +Oh, who doubts, Marquis, that it may be only by essential qualities +that you can succeed in pleasing women? It is simply a question of +knowing what meaning you attach to this expression. Do you call +essential qualities, worth, firmness of character, precision of +judgment, extent of learning, prudence, discretion, how can I tell the +number of virtues which often embarrass you more than they make you +happy? Our minds are not in accord upon this matter. Reserve all the +qualities I have specified for the intercourse you are obliged to have +with men, they are quite proper under such circumstances. But when it +comes to gallantry, you will have to change all such virtues for an +equal number of charming traits; those that captivate, it is the only +coin that passes current in this country; it is the only merit, and +you must be on your guard against calling it spurious money. It may be +that true merit consists less in real perfection than in that which +the world requires. It is far more advantageous to possess the +qualities agreeable to those whom we desire to please, than to have +those we believe to be estimable. In a word, we must imitate the +morals and even the caprices of those with whom we associate, if we +expect to live in peace with them. + +What is the destiny of women? What is their rôle on earth? It is to +please. Now, a charming figure, personal graces, in a word, all the +amiable and brilliant qualities are the only means of succeeding in +that role. Women possess them to a superlative degree, and it is in +these qualities that they wish men to resemble them. It will be vain +for you to accuse them of frivolity, for they are playing the beauty +rôle, since they are destined to make you happy. Is it not, indeed, +due to the charm of our companionship, to the gentleness of our +manners, that you owe your most satisfying pleasures, your social +virtues, in fact, your whole happiness? Have some good faith in this +matter. Is it possible for the sciences of themselves, the love of +glory, valor, nay, even that friendship of which you boast so much, to +make you perfectly happy? The pleasure you draw from any of them, can +it be keen enough to make you feel happy? Certainly not. None of them +have the power to relieve you from a wearisome monotony which crushes +you and makes you an object of pity. + +It is women who have taken upon themselves to dissipate these mortal +languors by the vivacious gayety they inject into their society; by +the charms they know so well how to lavish where they will prove +effectual. A reckless joy, an agreeable delirium, a delicious +intoxication, are alone capable of awakening your attention, and +making you understand that you are really happy, for, Marquis, there +is a vast difference between merely enjoying happiness and relishing +the sensation of enjoying it. The possession of necessary things does +not make a man comfortable, it is the superfluous which makes him +rich, and which makes him feel that he is rich. + +It is not because you possess superior qualities that you are a +pleasant companion, it may be a real defect which is essential to you. +To be received with open arms, you must be agreeable, amusing, +necessary to the pleasure of others. I warn you that you can not +succeed in any other manner, particularly with women. Tell me, what +would you have me do with your learning, the geometry of your mind, +with the precision of your memory, etc.? If you have only such +advantages, Marquis, if you have no charming accomplishments to offset +your crudity--I can vouch for their opinion--far from pleasing women, +you will seem to them like a critic of whom they will be afraid, and +you will place them under so much constraint, that the enjoyment they +might have permitted themselves in your society will be banished. Why, +indeed, try to be amiable toward a man who is a source of anxiety to +you by his nonchalance, who does not unbosom himself? Women are not at +their ease except with those who take chances with them, and enter +into their spirit. In a word, too much circumspection gives others a +chill like that felt by a man who goes out of a warm room into a cold +wind. I intended to say that habitual reserve locks the doors of the +hearts of those who associate with us; they have no room to expand. + +You must also bear this in mind, Marquis, that in cases of gallantry, +your first advances must be made under the most favorable +circumstances. You must have read somewhere, that one pleases more by +agreeable faults than by essential qualities. Great virtues are like +pieces of gold of which one makes less use than of ordinary currency. + +This idea calls to my mind those people who, in place of our kind of +money, use shells as their medium of exchange. Well, do you imagine +that these people are not so rich as we with all the treasures of the +new world? We might, at first blush, take this sort of wealth as +actual poverty, but we should be quickly undeceived upon reflection, +for metals have no value except in opinion. Our gold would be false +money to those people. Now, the qualities you call essential are not +worth any more in cases of gallantry, where only pebbles are +sufficient. What matters the conventional mark provided there is +commerce? + +Now, this is my conclusion: If it be true, as you can not doubt, that +you ought not to expect happiness except from an interchange of +agreeable qualities in women, you may be sure that you will never +please them unless you possess advantages similar to theirs. I stick +to the point. You men are constantly boasting about your science, your +firmness, etc., but tell me, how weary would you not be, how disgusted +even, with life, if, always logical, you were condemned to be forever +learned and sordid, to live only in the company of philosophers? I +know you, you would soon become weary of admiration for your good +qualities, and the way you are made, you would rather do without +virtue than pleasure. Do not amuse yourself, then, by holding +yourself out as a man with great qualities in the sense you consider +them. True merit is that which is esteemed by those we aim to please. +Gallantry has its own laws, and Marquis, amiable men are the sages of +this world. + + + + +VIII + +The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause. + + +This time, Marquis, you have not far to go, your hour has come. The +diagnosis you give me of your condition tells me that you are in love. +The young widow you mention is certainly capable of rousing an +inspiration in your heart. The Chevalier de ---- has given me a very +favorable portrait of her. But scarcely do you begin to feel a few +scruples, than you turn into a crime the advice I have been giving +you. The disorder which love brings to the soul, and the other evils +which follow in its train, appear to you, so you say, more to be +feared than the pleasures it gives are to be desired. + +It is true that some very good people are of the opinion that the +sorrows of love are about equal to its pleasures, but without entering +upon a tiresome discussion to ascertain whether they are right or +wrong, if you would have my opinion, here it is: Love is a passion +which is neither good nor bad of itself; it is only those who are +affected by it that determine whether it is good or bad. All that I +shall say in its favor is, that it gives us an advantage with which +any of the discomforts of life can not enter into comparison. It drags +us out of the rut, it stirs us up, and it is love which satisfies one +of our most pressing wants. I think I have already told you that our +hearts are made for emotion; to excite it therefore, is to satisfy a +demand of nature. What would vigorous youth be without love? A long +illness: it would not be existence, it would be vegetating. Love is to +our hearts what winds are to the sea. They grow into tempests, true; +they are sometimes even the cause of shipwrecks. But the winds render +the sea navigable, their constant agitation of its surface is the +cause of its preservation, and if they are often dangerous, it is for +the pilot to know how to navigate in safety. + +But I have wandered from my text, and return to it. Though I shock +your sensitive delicacy by my frank speaking, I shall add, that +besides the need of having our emotions stirred, we have in connection +with them a physical machinery, which is the primitive cause and +necessity of love. Perhaps it is not too modest for a woman to use +such language to you, but you will understand that I would not talk to +every one so plainly. We are not engaged in what may be called "nice" +conversation, we are philosophizing. If my discussions seem to you to +be sometimes too analytical for a woman, remember what I told you in +my last letter. From the time I was first able to reason, I made up my +mind to investigate and ascertain which of the two sexes was the more +favored. I saw that men were not at all stinted in the distribution of +the roles to be played, and I therefore became a man. + +If I were you, I would not investigate whether it be a good or a bad +thing to fall in love. I would prefer to have you ask whether it is +good or bad to be thirsty; or, that it be forbidden to give one a +drink because there are men who become intoxicated. Inasmuch as you +are not at liberty to divest yourself of an appetite belonging to the +mechanical part of your nature, as could our ancient romancers, do not +ruin yourself by speculating and meditating on the greater or less +advantages in loving. Take love as I have advised you to take it, only +do not let it be to you a passion, only an amusement. + +I understand what you are going to say: you are going to overwhelm me +again with your great principles, and tell me that a man has not +sufficient control over his feelings to stop when he would. Pooh! I +regard those who talk in that fashion in the same light as the man, +who believes he is in honor bound to show great sorrow on the occasion +of a loss or accident, which his friends consider great, but which is +nothing to him. Such a man feels less than any one the need of +consolation, but he finds pleasure in showing his tears. He rejoices +to know that he possesses a heart capable of excessive emotion, and +this softens it still more. He feeds it with sorrow, he makes an idol +of it, and offers it incense so often that he acquires the habit. All +such admirers of great and noble sentiments, spoiled by romances or by +prudes, make it a point of honor to spiritualize their passion. By +force of delicate treatment, they become all the more infatuated with +it, as they deem it to be their own work, and they fear nothing so +much as the shame of returning to common sense and resuming their +manhood. + +Let us take good care, Marquis, not to make ourselves ridiculous in +this way. This fashion of straining our intelligence is nothing more, +in the age in which we are living, than playing the part of fools. In +former times people took it into their heads that love should be +something grave, they considered it a serious matter, and esteemed it +only in proportion to its dignity. Imagine exacting dignity from a +child! Away would go all its graces, and its youth would soon become +converted into old age. How I pity our good ancestors! What with them +was a mortal weariness, a melancholy frenzy, is with us a gay folly, a +delicious delirium. Fools that they were, they preferred the horrors +of deserts and rocks, to the pleasures of a garden strewn with +flowers. What prejudices the habit of reflection has brought upon us! + +The proof that great sentiments are nothing but chimeras of pride and +prejudice, is, that in our day, we no longer witness that taste for +ancient mystic gallantry, no more of those old fashioned gigantic +passions. Ridicule the most firmly established opinions, I will go +further, deride the feelings that are believed to be the most natural +and soon both will disappear, and men will stand amazed to see that +ideas for which they possessed a sort of idolatry, are in reality +nothing but trifles which pass away like the ever changing fashions. + +You will understand, then, Marquis, that it is not necessary to +acquire the habit of deifying the fancy you entertain for the +Countess. You will know, at last, that love to be worthy of the name, +and to make us happy, far from being treated as a serious affair, +should be fostered lightly, and above all with gayety. Nothing can +make you understand more clearly the truth of what I am telling you, +than the result of your adventure, for I believe the Countess to be +the last woman in the world to harbor a sorrowful passion. You, with +your high sentiments will give her the blues, mark what I tell you. + +My indisposition continues, and I would feel like telling you that I +never go out during the day, but would not that be giving you a +rendezvous? If, however, you should come and give me your opinion of +the "Bajazet" of Racine, you would be very kind. They say that the +Champmesle has surpassed herself. + +I have read over this letter, Marquis, and the lecture it contains +puts me out of humor with you. I recognize the fact that truth is a +contagious disease. Judge how much of it goes into love, since you +bestow it even upon those who aim to undeceive you. It is quite +strange, that in order to prove that love should be treated with +levity, it was necessary to assume a serious tone. + + + + +IX + +Love is a Natural Inclination + + +So you have taken what I said about love in my last letter as a crime? +I have blasphemed love; I have degraded it by calling it a +"necessity?" You have such noble thoughts, Marquis. What is passing in +your mind is proof of it. You can not realize, or imagine anything +less than the pure and delicate sentiments which fill your heart. To +see the Countess, hold sweet discourse with her, listen to the sound +of her gentle voice, dance attendance upon her, that is the height of +your desires, it is your supreme happiness. Far from you are those +vulgar sentiments which I unworthily substitute for your sublime +metaphysics; sentiments created for worldly souls occupied solely with +sensual pleasures. What a mistake I made! Could I imagine that the +Countess was a woman to be captured by motives so little worthy of +her? To raise the suspicion in her mind that you possessed such views, +would it not inevitably expose you to her hate, her scorn, etc.? + +Are not these the inconveniences which my morality leads you to +apprehend? My poor Marquis! you are yourself deceived by your +misunderstanding of the real cause of your sentiments. Give me all +your attention: I wish to draw you away from error, but in a manner +that will best accord with the importance of what I am about to say. I +mount the tribune; I feel the presence of the god who inspires me. I +rub my forehead with the air of a person who meditates on profound +truths, and who is going to utter great thoughts. I am going to reason +according to rule. + +Men, I know not by what caprice, have attached shame to the indulgence +of that reciprocal inclination which nature has bestowed upon both +sexes. They knew, however, that they could not entirely stifle its +voice, so what did they do to relieve themselves of their +embarrassment? They attempted to substitute the mere shell of an +affection wholly spiritual for the humiliating necessity of appearing +in good faith to satisfy a natural want. Insensibly, they have grown +accustomed to meddle with a thousand little sublime nothings connected +with it, and as if that were not enough, they have at last succeeded +in establishing the belief that all these frivolous accessories, the +work of a heated imagination, constitute the essence of the +inclination. There you are; love erected into a fine virtue; at least +they have given it the appearance of a virtue. But let us break +through this prestige and cite an example. + +At the beginning of their intercourse, lovers fancy themselves +inspired by the noblest and most delicate sentiments. They exhaust +their ingenuity, exaggerations, the enthusiasm of the most exquisite +metaphysics; they are intoxicated for a time with the idea that their +love is a superior article. But let us follow them in their liaison: +Nature quickly recovers her rights and re-assumes her sway; soon, +vanity, gorged with the display of an exaggerated purpose, leaves the +heart at liberty to feel and express its sentiments without restraint, +and dissatisfied with the pleasures of love, the day comes when these +people are very much surprised to find themselves, after having +traveled around a long circuit, at the very point where a peasant, +acting according to nature, would have begun. And thereby hangs a +tale. + +A certain Honesta, to give her a fictitious name, in whose presence I +was one day upholding the theory I have just been maintaining, became +furious. + +"What!" she exclaimed in a transport of indignation, "do you pretend, +Madame, that a virtuous person, one who possesses only honest +intentions, such as marriage, is actuated by such vulgar motives? You +would believe, in that case, that I, for instance, who 'par vertu,' +have been married three times, and who, to subdue my husbands, have +never wished to have a separate apartment, that I only acted thus to +procure what you call pleasure? Truly you would be very much mistaken. +Indeed, never have I refused to fulfill the duties of my state, but I +assure you that the greater part of the time, I yielded to them only +through complaisance, or as a distraction, always with regret at the +importunities of men. We love men and marry them because they have +certain qualities of mind and heart; and no woman, with the exception +of those, perhaps, whom I do not care to name, even attaches any +importance to other advantages----" + +I interrupted her, and more through malice than good taste, carried +the argument to its logical conclusion. I made her see that what she +said was a new proof of my contention: + +"The reasons you draw from the legitimate views of marriage," said I, +"prove that those who hold them, fend to the same end as two ordinary +lovers, perhaps, even in better faith, with this difference only, that +they wish an extra ceremony attached to it." + +This shot roused the indignation of my adversary. + +"You join impiety to libertinage," said she, moving away from me. + +I took the liberty of making some investigations, and would you +believe it, Marquis? This prude so refined, had such frequent +'distractions' with her three husbands, who were all young and +vigorous, that she buried them in a very short time. + +Come now, Marquis, retract your error; abandon your chimera, reserve +delicacy of sentiment for friendship; accept love for what it is. The +more dignity you give it, the more dangerous you make it; the more +sublime the idea you form of it, the less correct it is. Believe de la +Rochefoucauld, a man who knows the human heart well: "If you expect to +love a woman for love of herself," says he, "you will be much +mistaken." + + + + +X + +The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's Nature + + +The commentaries the Countess has been making you about her virtue, +and the refinement she expects in a lover, have certainly alarmed you. +You think she will always be as severe as she now appears to you. All +I have told you does not reassure you. You even esteem it a favor to +me that you stop with doubting my principles. If you dared you would +condemn them entirely. When you talk to me in that fashion, I feel at +liberty to say that I believe you. It is not your fault if you do not +see clearly into your own affair, but in proportion as you advance, +the cloud will disappear, and you will perceive with surprise the +truth of what I have been telling you. + +The more cold blooded you are, or at least, as long as passion has not +yet reached that degree of boldness its progress will ultimately lead +you to, the mere hope of the smallest favor is a crime; you tremble at +the most innocent caress. At first you ask for nothing, or for so +slight a favor, that a woman conscientiously believes herself obliged +to grant it, delighted with you on account of your modesty. To obtain +this slight favor, you protest never to ask another, and yet, even +while making your protestations, you are preparing to exact more. She +becomes accustomed to it and permits further trifling, which seems to +be of so little importance that she would endure it from any other +man, if she were on the slightest terms of intimacy with him. But, to +judge from the result, what appears to be of so little consequence on +one day when compared with the favor obtained the day before, becomes +very considerable when compared with that obtained on the first day. A +woman, re-assured by your discretion, does not perceive that her +frailties are being graduated upon a certain scale. She is so much +mistress of herself, and the little things which are at first exacted, +appear to her to be so much within her power of refusal, that she +expects to possess the same strength when something of a graver +character is proposed to her. It is just this way: she flatters +herself that her power of resistance will increase in the same +proportion with the importance of the favors she will be called upon +to grant. She relies so entirely upon her virtue, that she challenges +danger by courting it. She experiments with her power of resistance; +she wishes to see how far the granting of a few unimportant favors can +lead her. Here is where she is imprudent, for by her very rashness she +accustoms her imagination to contemplate suggestions which are the +final cause of her seduction. She travels a long way on the road +without perceiving that she has moved a single step. If upon looking +back along the route, she is surprised at having yielded so much, her +lover will be no less surprised at having obtained so much. + +But I go still further. I am persuaded that love is not always +necessary to bring about the downfall of a woman. I knew a woman, who, +although amiable in her manner with everybody, had never been +suspected of any affair of the heart. Fifteen years of married life +had not diminished her tenderness for her husband, and their happy +union could be cited as an example to imitate. + +One day at her country place, her friends amused themselves so late +that they were constrained to remain at her house all night. In the +morning, her servants happening to be occupied with her guests, she +was alone in her apartment engaged in making her toilet. A man whom +she knew quite well, but who was without social position, dropped in +for a short visit and to pass the compliments of the day. Some +perplexity in her toilette, induced him to offer his services. The +neglige dress she wore, naturally gave him an opportunity to +compliment her upon her undiminished charms. Of course she protested, +but laughingly, claiming they were unmerited. However, one thing +followed another, they became a trifle sentimental, a few +familiarities which they did not at first deem of any consequence, +developed into something more decided, until, finally, unable to +resist, they were both overcome, the woman being culpable, for she +regarded his advances in the nature of a joke and let them run on. +What was their embarrassment after such a slip? They have never since +been able to understand how they could have ventured so far without +having had the slightest intention of so doing. + +I am tempted to exclaim here: Oh, you mortals who place too much +reliance upon your virtue, tremble at this example! Whatever may be +your strength, there are, unfortunately, moments when the most +virtuous is the most feeble. The reason for this strange phenomenon +is, that nature is always on the watch; always aiming to attain her +ends. The desire for love is, in a woman, a large part of her nature. +Her virtue is nothing but a piece of patchwork. + +The homilies of your estimable Countess may be actually sincere, +although in such cases, a woman always exaggerates, but she deludes +herself if she expects to maintain to the end, sentiments so severe +and so delicate. Fix this fact well in your mind, Marquis, that these +female metaphysicians are not different in their nature from other +women. Their exterior is more imposing, their morals more austere, but +inquire into their acts, and you will discover that their heart +affairs always finish the same as those of women less refined. They +are a species of the "overnice," forming a class of their own, as I +told Queen Christine of Sweden, one day: "They are the Jansenists of +love." (Puritans.) + +You should be on your guard, Marquis, against everything women have to +say on the chapter of gallantry. All the fine systems of which they +make such a pompous display, are nothing but vain illusions, which +they utilize to astonish those who are easily deceived. In the eyes of +a clear sighted man, all this rubbish of stilted phrases is but a +parade at which he mocks, and which does not prevent him from +penetrating their real sentiments. The evil they speak of love, the +resistance they oppose to it, the little taste they pretend for its +pleasures, the measures they take against it, the fear they have of +it, all that springs from love itself. Their very manner renders it +homage, indicates that they harbor the thought of it. Love assumes a +thousand different forms in their minds. Like pride, it lives and +flourishes upon its own defeat; it is never overthrown that it does +not spring up again with renewed force. + +What a letter, good heavens! To justify its length would be to +lengthen it still more. + + + + +XI + +The Distinction Between Love and Friendship + + +I was delighted with your letter, Marquis. Do you know why? Because it +gives me speaking proof of the truth of what I have been preaching to +you these latter days. Ah! for once you have forgotten all your +metaphysics. You picture to me the charms of the Countess with a +complacency which demonstrates that your sentiments are not altogether +so high flown as you would have me believe, and as you think down in +your heart. Tell me frankly: if your love were not the work of the +senses, would you take so much pleasure in considering that form, +those eyes which enchant you, that mouth which you describe to me in +such glowing colors? If the qualities of heart and mind alone seduce +you, a woman of fifty is worth still more in that respect than the +Countess. You see such a one every day, it is her mother; why not +become enamored of her instead? Why neglect a hundred women of her +age, of her plainness, and of her merit, who make advances to you, and +who would enact the same role with you that you play with the +Countess? Why do you desire with so much passion to be distinguished +by her from other men? Why are you uneasy when she shows them the +least courtesy? Does her esteem for them diminish that which she +pretends for you? Are rivalries and jealousies recognized in +metaphysics? I believe not I have friends and I do not observe such +things in them; I feel none in my own heart when they love other +women. + +Friendship is a sentiment which has nothing to do with the senses; the +soul alone receives the impression of it, and the soul loses nothing +of its value by giving itself up to several at the same time. Compare +friendship with love, and you will perceive the difference between a +desire which governs a friend, and that which offers itself to a +lover. You will confess, that at heart, I am not so unreasonable as +you at first thought, and that it might be very well if it should +happen that in love, you might have a soul as worldly as that of a +good many people, whom it pleases you to accuse of very little +refinement. + +I do not wish, however, to bring men alone to trial. I am frank, and I +am quite sure that if women would be honest, they would soon confess +that they are not a bit more refined than men. Indeed, if they saw in +love only the pleasures of the soul, if they hoped to please only by +their mental accomplishments and their good character, honestly, now, +would they apply themselves with such particular care to please by the +charms of their person? What is a beautiful skin to the soul; an +elegant figure; a well shaped arm? What contradictions between their +real sentiments and those they exhibit on parade! Look at them, and +you will be convinced that they have no intention of making themselves +valued except by their sensual attractions, and that they count +everything else as nothing. Listen to them: you will be tempted to +believe that it is not worldly things which they consider the least. I +think I deserve credit for trying to dispel your error in this +respect, and ought I not to expect everything from the care they will +take to undeceive you themselves? Perhaps they will succeed only too +easily in expressing sentiments entirely contrary to those you have +heard to-day from me. + +I am due at Mademoiselle de Raymond's this evening, to hear the two +Camus and Ytier who are going to sing. Mesdames de la Sablière, de +Salins, and de Monsoreau will also be there. Would you miss such a +fine company? + + + + +XII + +A Man in Love is an Amusing Spectacle + + +You take things too much to heart, Marquis. Already two nights that +you have not slept. Oh! it is true love, there is no mistaking that. +You have made your eyes speak, you, yourself, have spoken quite +plainly, and not the slightest notice has been taken of your +condition. Such behavior calls for revenge. Is it possible that after +eight whole days of devoted attention she has not given you the least +hope? Such a thing can not be easily imagined. Such a long resistance +begins to pass beyond probability. The Countess is a heroine of the +last century. But if you are beginning to lose patience, you can +imagine the length of time you would have had to suffer, if you had +continued to proclaim grand and noble sentiments. You have already +accomplished more in eight days than the late Celadon could in eight +months. However, to speak seriously, are your complaints just? You +call the Countess ungrateful, insensible, disdainful, etc. But by what +right do you talk thus? Will you never believe what I have told you a +hundred times? Love is a veritable caprice, involuntary, even in one +who experiences its pangs. Why should, you say that the beloved object +is bound to recompense a blind sentiment acquired without her +connivance? + +You are very queer, you men. You consider yourselves offended because +a woman does not respond with eagerness to the languishing looks you +deign to cast upon her. Your revolted pride immediately accuses her of +injustice, as if it were her fault that your head is turned; as if she +were obliged, at a certain stage, to be seized with the same disease +as you. Tell me this: is the Countess responsible if she is not +afflicted with the same delirium as soon as you begin to rave? Cease, +then, to accuse her and to complain, and to try to communicate your +malady to her; I know you, you are seductive enough. Perhaps she will +feel, too soon for her peace of mind, sentiments commensurate with +your desires. I believe she has in her everything to subjugate you, +and to inspire you with the taste I hope will be for your happiness, +but so far, I do not think she is susceptible of a very serious +attachment. + +Vivacious, inconsistent, positive, decided, she can not fail to give +you plenty of exercise. An attentive and caressing woman would weary +you; you must be handled in a military fashion, if you are to be +amused and retained. As soon as the mistress assumes the rôle of +lover, love begins to weaken; it does more, it rises like a tyrant, +and ends in disdain which leads directly to disgust and inconstancy. +Have you found, perchance, everything you required in the little +mistress who is the cause of your dolorous martyrdom? Poor Marquis! +What storms will blow over you. What quarrels I foresee! How many +vexations, how many threats to leave her! But do not forget this: So +much emotion will become your punishment, if you treat love after the +manner of a hero of romance, and you will meet a fate entirely the +contrary if you treat it like a reasonable man. + +But ought I to continue to write you? The moments you employ to read +my letters will be so many stolen from love. Great Heavens! how I +should like to be a witness of your situations! Indeed, for a +sober-minded person, is there a spectacle more amusing than the +contortions of a man in love? + + + + +XIII + +Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love. + + +You are not satisfied, then, Marquis, with what I so cavalierly said +about your condition? You wish me by all means to consider your +adventure as a serious thing, but I shall take good care not to do so. +Do you not see that my way of treating you is consistent with my +principles? I speak lightly of a thing I believe to be frivolous, or +simply amusing. When it comes to an affair on which depends a lasting +happiness, you will see me take on an appropriate tone. I do not want +to pity you, because it depends upon yourself whether you are to be +pitied or not. By a trick of your imagination, what now appears to be +a pain to you may become a pleasure. To succeed, make use of my recipe +and you will find it good. But to refer to the second paragraph of +your letter: + +You say you are all the more surprised at the coldness of the Countess +as you did not think it in earnest. According to what you say, your +conjectures are based on the indiscretions of her friends. The good +she spoke about you to them, was the main cause of your taking a fancy +to her. I know men by this trait. The smallest word that escapes a +woman's lips leads them into the belief that she has designs upon +them. Everything has some reference to their merits; their vanity +seizes upon everything, and they turn everything into profit. To +examine them closely, nearly all of them love through gratitude, and +on this point, women are not any more reasonable. So that gallantry is +an intercourse in which we want the others to go along with us, always +want to be their debtors. And you know pride is much more active in +paying back than in giving. If two lovers would mutually explain, +without reservation, the beginning and progress of their passion, what +confidences would they not exchange? + +Elise, to whom Valère uttered a few general compliments, responded, +perhaps without intending to, in a more affectionate manner than is +usual in the case of such insipidities. It was enough. Valère is +carried away with the idea that from a gallant he must become a lover. +The fire is insensibly kindled on both sides; finally, it bursts +forth, and there you are, a budding passion. If you should charge +Elise with having made the first advances, nothing would appear more +unjust to her, and yet nothing could be more true. I conclude from +this that to take love for what it really is, it is less the work of +what is called invincible sympathy, than that of our vanity. Notice +the birth of all love affairs. They begin by the mutual praises we +bestow upon each other. It has been said that it is folly which +conducts love; I should say that it is flattery, and that it can not +be introduced into the heart of a belle until after paying tribute to +her vanity. Add to all this, the general desire and inclination we +have to be loved, and we are bravely deceived. Like those enthusiasts +who, by force of imagination, believe they can really see the images +they conjure up in their minds, we fancy that we can see in others the +sentiments we desire to find there. + +Be careful, then, Marquis, not to let yourself be blinded by a false +notion. The Countess may have spoken well of you with the sole object +of doing you justice, without carrying her intention any farther. And +be sure you are wrong when you suspect her of insincerity in your +regard. After all, why should you not prefer to have her dissemble her +sentiments toward you, if you are the source of their inspiration? Are +not women in the right to hide carefully their sentiments from you, +and does not the bad use you make of the certainty of their love +justify them in so doing? + + + + +XIV + +Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in Love + + +No, Marquis, the curiosity of Madame de Sévigné has not offended me. +On the contrary, I am very glad that she wished to see the letters you +receive from me. Without doubt, she thought that if it were a question +of gallantry, it could only be to my profit; she now knows the +contrary. She will also know that I am not so frivolous as she +imagined, and I believe her just enough to form hereafter another idea +of Ninon than the one she has heretofore had of her, for I am not +ignorant of the fact that she does not speak of me much to my +advantage. But her injustice will never influence my friendship for +you. I am philosophic enough to console myself for not securing the +commendation of people who judge me without knowing me. Whatever may +happen, I shall continue to talk to you with my ordinary frankness, +and I am sure that Madame de Sévigné, in spite of her refined mind, +will, at heart, be more of my opinion than she cares to show. Now, I +come to what relates to you. + +Well, Marquis, after infinite care and trouble, you think you have at +last softened that stony heart? I am glad of it; but I laugh at your +interpretation of the Countess' sentiments. You share with all men a +common error which it is necessary to remove, however flattering it +may be to you to foster it. You believe, every one of you, that it is +your worth alone that kindles passion in the heart of women, and that +qualities of heart and mind are the causes of the love they feel +toward you. What a mistake! You only think so, it is true, because +your pride finds satisfaction in the thought. But, if you can do so +without prejudice, inquire into the motives that actuate you, and you +will soon perceive that you are laboring under a delusion, and that we +deceive you; that, everything well considered, you are the dupe of +your vanity and of ours; that the worth of the person loved is only an +excuse which gives an occasion for love, and is not the real cause. +Finally, that all this sublime by-play, which is paraded on both +sides, is a mere preliminary which enters into the desire to satisfy +the need I first indicated to you as the prime exciting cause of this +passion. I tell you this is a hard and humiliating truth, but it is +none the less certain. We women enter the world with this necessity of +loving undefined, and if we take one man in preference to another, let +us say so honestly, we yield less to the knowledge of merit than to a +mechanical instinct which is nearly always blind. + +For proof of this I need only refer to the foolish passions with which +we sometimes become intoxicated for strangers, or at least for men +with whom we are not sufficiently acquainted, to relieve our selection +of them from the odium of imprudence from the beginning; in which case +if there is a mutual response, well, it is pure chance. We are always +forming attachments without sufficient circumspection, hence I am not +wrong in comparing love to an appetite which one sometimes feels for +one kind of food rather than for another, without being able to give +the reason. I am very cruel to thus dissipate the phantoms of your +self love, but I am telling you the truth. You are flattered by the +love of a woman, because you believe it implies the worthiness of the +object loved. You do her too much honor: let us say rather, that you +have too good an opinion of yourself. Understand that it is not for +yourself that we love you, to speak with sincerity, it is our own +happiness we seek. Caprice, interest, vanity, disposition, the +uneasiness that affects our hearts when they are unoccupied, these are +the sources of the great sentiment we wish to deify! It is not great +qualities that affect us; if they enter for anything into the reasons +which determine us in your favor, it is not the heart which receives +the impression, it is vanity; and the greater part of the things in +you which please us, very often makes you ridiculous or contemptible. + +But, what will you have? We need an admirer who can entertain us with +ideas of our perfections; we need an obliging person who will submit +to our caprices; we need a man! Chance presents us with one rather +than another; we accept him, but we do not choose him. In a word, you +believe yourselves to be the objects of our disinterested affection. I +repeat: You think women love you for yourselves. Poor dupes! You are +only the instruments of their pleasures, the sport of their caprices. +I must, however, do women justice; it is not that you are what I have +just enumerated with their consent, for the sentiments which I develop +here are not well defined in their minds, on the contrary, with the +best faith in the world, women imagine themselves influenced and +actuated only by the grand ideas which your vanity and theirs has +nourished. It would be a crying injustice to accuse them of deceit in +this respect; but, without being aware of it, they deceive themselves, +and you are equally deceived. + +You see that I am revealing the secrets of the good goddess. Judge of +my friendship, since, at the expense of my own sex, I labor to +enlighten you. The better you know women, the fewer follies they will +lead you to commit. + + + + +XV + +The Hidden Motives of Love + + +Really, Marquis, I do not understand how you can meekly submit to the +serious language I sometimes write you. It seems as if I had no other +aim in my letters than to sweep away your agreeable illusions and +substitute mortifying truths. I must, however, get rid of my mania for +saying deeply considered things. I know better than any one else that +pleasant lies are more agreeable than the most reasonable +conversation, but my disposition breaks through everything in spite of +me. I feel a fit of philosophy upon me again to-day, and I must ask +you to prepare to endure the broadside of morality I am making ready +to give you. Hereafter, I promise you more gayety. So now to answer +your letter. + +No, I will not take back anything. You may make war on me as much as +it please you, because of the bad opinion of my sex I expressed in my +last letter. Is it my fault if I am furnished with disagreeable truths +to utter? Besides, do you not know, Marquis, that the being on earth +who thinks the most evil of women, is a woman? + +I wish, however, very seriously, to justify the ideas, to my manner of +expressing which you have taken an exception. I am neither envious nor +unjust. Because I happened to mention my own sex rather than yours, +you must not imagine that it is my intention to underrate women. I +hoped to make you understand that, without being more culpable than +men, they are more dangerous because they are accustomed more +successfully to hide their sentiments. In effect, you will confess the +object of your love sooner than they will acknowledge theirs. However, +when they assure you that their affection for you has no other source +than a knowledge of your merit and of your good qualities, I am +persuaded that they are sincere. I do not even doubt that when they +realize that their style of thought is becoming less refined, they do +everything in their power to hide the fact from themselves. But the +motives, about which I have been telling you, are in the bottom of +their hearts just the same. They are none the less the true causes of +the liking they have for you, and whatever efforts they may make to +persuade themselves that the causes are wholly spiritual, their desire +changes nothing in the nature of things. They hide this deformity with +as much care as they would conceal teeth that might disfigure an +otherwise perfect face. In such case, even when alone they would be +afraid to open their mouth, and so, by force of habit in hiding this +defect from others as well as from themselves, they succeed in +forgetting all about it or in considering that it is not much of a +defect. + +I agree with you that you would lose too much if men and women were to +show themselves in their true colors. The world has agreed to play a +comedy, and to show real, natural sentiments would not be acting, it +would be substituting the real character for the one it has been +agreed to feign. Let us then enjoy the enchantment without seeking to +know the cause of the charm which amuses and seduces us. To anatomize +love would be to enter upon its cure. Psyche lost it for having been +too curious, and I am tempted to believe that this fable is a lesson +for those who wish to analyze pleasure. + +I wish to make some corrections in what I have said to you: If I told +you that men are wrong in priding themselves on their choice of a +woman, and their sentiments for her; if I said that the motives which +actuate them are nothing less than glorious for the men, I desire to +add, that they are equally deceived if they imagine that the +sentiments which they show with so much pompous display are always +created by force of female charms, or by an abiding impression of +their merits. How often does it happen that those men who make +advances with such a respectful air, who display such delicate and +refined sentiments, so flattering to vanity, who, in a word, seem to +breathe only through them, only for them, and have no other desire +than their happiness; how often, I repeat, are those men, who adorn +themselves with such beautiful sentiments, influenced by reasons +entirely the contrary? Study, penetrate these good souls, and you will +see in the heart of this one, instead of a love so disinterested, only +desire; in that one, it will be only a scheme to share your fortune, +the glory of having obtained a woman of your rank; in a third you +will discover motives still more humiliating to you; he will use you +to rouse the jealousy of some woman he really loves, and he will +cultivate your friendship merely to distinguish himself in her eyes by +rejecting you. I can not tell you how many motives, there are so many. +The human heart is an insolvable enigma. It is a whimsical combination +of all the known contrarieties. We think we know its workings; we see +their effects; we ignore the cause. If it expresses its sentiments +sincerely, even that sincerity is not reassuring. Perhaps its +movements spring from causes entirely contrary to those we imagine we +feel to be the real ones. But, after all, people have adopted the best +plan, that is, to explain everything to their advantage, and to +compensate themselves in imagination for their real miseries, and +accustom themselves, as I think I have already said, to deifying all +their sentiments. Inasmuch as everybody finds in that the summit of +his vanity, nobody has ever thought of reforming the custom, or of +examining it to see whether it is a mistake. + +Adieu; if you desire to come this evening you will find me with those +whose gayety will compensate you for this serious discourse. + + + + +XVI + +How to Be Victorious in Love + + +Is what you write me possible, Marquis, what, the Countess continues +obdurate? The flippant manner in which she receives your attentions +reveals an indifference which grieves you? I think I have guessed the +secret of the riddle. I know you. You are gay, playful, conceited +even, with women as long as they do not impress you. But with those +who have made an impression upon your heart, I have noticed that you +are timid. This quality might affect a bourgeoise, but you must attack +the heart of a woman of the world with other weapons. The Countess +knows the ways of the world. Believe me, and leave to the Celadons, +such things as sublime talk, beautiful sentiments; let them spin out +perfection. I tell you on behalf of women: there is not one of us who +does not prefer a little rough handling to too much consideration. Men +lose through blundering more hearts than virtue saves. + +The more timidity a lover shows with us the more it concerns our pride +to goad him on; the more respect he has for our resistance, the more +respect we demand of him. We would willingly say to you men: "Ah, in +pity's name do not suppose us to be so very virtuous; you are forcing +us to have too much of it. Do not put so high a price upon your +conquest; do not treat our defeat as if it were something difficult. +Accustom our imagination by degrees to seeing you doubt our +indifference." + +When we see a lover, although he may be persuaded of our gratitude, +treat us with the consideration demanded by our vanity, we shall +conclude without being aware of it, that he will always be the same, +although sure of our inclination for him. From that moment, what +confidence will he not inspire? What flattering progress may he not +make? But if he notifies us to be always on our guard, then it is not +our hearts we shall defend; it will not be a battle to preserve our +virtue, but our pride; and that is the worst enemy to be conquered in +women. What more is there to tell you? We are continually struggling +to hide the fact that we have permitted ourselves to be loved. Put a +woman in a position to say that she has yielded only to a species of +violence, or to surprise; persuade her that you do not undervalue her, +and I will answer for her heart. + +You must manage the Countess as her character requires; she is lively, +and playful, and by trifling follies you must lead her to love. Do not +even let her see that she distinguishes you from other men, and be as +playful as she is light hearted. Fix yourself in her heart without +giving her any warning of your intention. She will love you without +knowing it, and some day she will be very much astonished at having +made so much headway without really suspecting it. + + + + +XVII + +Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation + + +Perhaps, Marquis, you will think me still more cruel than the +Countess. She is the cause of your anxieties, it is true, but I am the +cause of something worse; I feel a great desire to laugh at them. Oh, +I enter into your troubles seriously enough, I can not do more, and +your embarrassment appears great to me. Really, why risk a declaration +of love to a woman who takes a wicked pleasure in avoiding it on every +occasion? Now, she appears affected, and then again, she is the most +unmindful woman in the world in spite of all you do to please her. She +listens willingly and replies gaily to the gallant speeches and bold +conversation of a certain Chevalier, a professional coxcomb, but to +you she speaks seriously and with a preoccupied air. If you take on a +tender and affectionate tone, she replies flippantly, or perhaps +changes the subject. All this intimidates you, troubles you, and +drives you to despair. Poor Marquis!--and I answer you, that all this +is love, true and beautiful. The absence of mind which she affects +with you, the nonchalance she puts on for a mask, ought to make you +feel at heart that she is far from being indifferent. But your lack of +boldness, the consequences which she feels must follow such a passion +as yours, the interest which she already takes in your condition, all +this intimidates the countess herself, and it is you who raise +obstacles in her path. A little more boldness on your part would put +you both at your ease. Do you remember what M. de la Rochefoucauld +told you lately: "A reasonable man in love may act like a madman, but +he should not and can not act like an idiot." + +Besides, when you compare your respect and esteem with the free and +almost indecent manner of the Chevalier; when you draw from it the +conclusion that she should prefer you to him, you do not know how +incorrectly you argue. The Chevalier is nothing but a gallant, and +what he says is not worth considering, or at least appears so. +Frivolity alone, the habit of romancing to all the pretty women he +finds in his way, makes him talk. Love counts for nothing, or at least +for very little, in all his liaisons. Like the butterfly, he hovers +only a moment over each flower. An amusing episode is his only object. +So much frivolity is not capable of alarming a woman. She is delighted +at the trifling danger she incurs in listening to such a man. + +The Countess knows very well how to appreciate the discourse of the +Chevalier; and to say everything in a word, she knows him to be a man +whose heart is worn out. Women, who, to hear them talk, go in more for +metaphysics, know admirably how to tell the difference between a lover +of his class and a man like you. But you will always be more +formidable and more to be dreaded by your manner of making yourself +felt. + +You boast to me of your respectful esteem, but I reply that it is +nothing of the kind, and the Countess knows it well. Nothing ends with +so little respect as a passion like yours. Quite different from the +Chevalier, you require recognition, preference, acknowledgment, even +sacrifices. The Countess sees all these pretensions at a glance, or at +least, if in the cloud which still envelops them, she does not +distinguish them clearly, nature gives her a presentiment of what the +cost will be if she allows you the least opportunity to instruct her +in a passion which she doubtless already shares. Women rarely inquire +into the reasons which impel them to give themselves up or to resist; +they do not even amuse themselves by trying to understand or explain +them, but they have feelings, and sentiment with them is correct, it +takes the place of intelligence and reflection. It is a sort of +instinct which warns them in case of danger, and which leads them +aright perhaps as surely as does the most enlightened reason. Your +beautiful Adelaide wishes to enjoy an incognito as long as she can. +This plan is very congenial to her real interests, and yet I am fully +persuaded that it is not the work of reflection. She sees it only from +the point of view of a passion, outwardly constrained, making stronger +impressions and still greater progress inwardly. Let it have an +opportunity to take deep root, and give to this fire she tries to +hide, time to consume the heart in which you wish to confine it. + +You must also admit, Marquis, that you deceive yourself in two ways +in your calculation. You thought you respected the Countess more than +the Chevalier does, on the contrary you see that the gallant speeches +of the Chevalier are without effect, while you begrudge them to the +heart of your beauty. On the other hand, you figure that her +preoccupied air, indifferent and inattentive manner are proofs or +forewarnings of your unhappiness. Undeceive yourself. There is no more +certain proof of a passion than the efforts made to hide it. In a +word, when the Countess treats you kindly, whatever proofs you may +give her of your affection, when she sees you without alarm on the +point of confessing your love, I tell you that her heart is caught; +she loves you, on my word. + +By the way, I forgot to reply to that part of your letter concerning +myself. Yes, Marquis, I constantly follow the method which I +prescribed at the commencement of our correspondence. There are few +matters in my letters that I have not used as subjects of conversation +in my social reunions. I rarely suggest ideas of any importance to +you, without having taken the opinions of my friends on their verity. +Sometimes it is Monsieur de la Bruyère, sometimes Monsieur de +Saint-Evremond whom I consult; another time it will be Monsieur l'Abbé +de Châteauneuf. You must admire my good faith, Marquis, for I might +claim the credit of the good I write you, but I frankly avow that you +owe it only to the people whom I receive at my house. + +Apropos of men of distinguished merit, M. de la Rochefoucauld has +just sent me word that he would like to call on me. I fixed to-morrow, +and you might do well to be present, but do not forget how much he +loves you. Adieu. + + + + +XVIII + +When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of It + + +I have been engaged in some new reflections on the condition you are +in, Marquis, and on the embarrassment in which you continue. After +all, why do you deem it necessary to make a formal declaration of +love? Can it be because you have read about such things in our old +romances, in which the proceedings in courtship were as solemn as +those of the tribunals? That would be too technical. Believe me, let +it alone; as I told you in my last letter, the fire lighted, will +acquire greater force every day, and you will see, that without having +said you love, you will be farther advanced than if you were +frightened by avowals which our fathers insisted should worry the +women. Avowals absolutely useless in themselves, and which always +incumber a passion with several nebulous days. They retard its +progress. Bear this well in mind, Marquis: A woman is much better +persuaded that she is loved by what she guesses than by what she is +told. + +Act as if you had made the declaration which is costing you so much +anxiety; or imitate the Chevalier; take things easy. The way the +Countess conducts herself with him in your presence seems to be a law +in your estimation. With your circumspection and pretended respect, +you present the appearance of a man who meditates an important design, +of a man, in a word, who contemplates a wrong step. Your exterior is +disquieting to a woman who knows the consequences of a passion such as +yours. Remember that as long as you let it appear that you are making +preparations for an attack, you will find her on the defensive. Have +you ever heard of a skillful general, who intends to surprise a +citadel, announce his design to the enemy upon whom the storm is to +descend? In love as in war, does any one ever ask the victor whether +he owes his success to force or skill? He has conquered, he receives +the crown, his desires are gratified, he is happy. Follow his example +and you will meet the same fate. Hide your progress; do not disclose +the extent of your designs until it is no longer possible to oppose +your success, until the combat is over, and the victory gained before +you have declared war. In a word, imitate those warlike people whose +designs are not known except by the ravaged country through which they +have passed. + + + + +XIX + +Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy + + +At last, Marquis, you are listened to dispassionately when you protest +your love, and swear by everything lovers hold sacred that you will +always love. Will you believe my predictions another time? However, +you would be better treated if you were more reasonable, so you are +told, and limit your sentiments to simple friendship. The name of +lover assumed by you is revolting to the Countess. You should never +quarrel over quality when it is the same under any name, and follow +the advice Madame de la Sablière gives you in the following madrigal: + + Bélise ne veut point d'amant, + Mais voudrait un ami fidèle, +Qui pour elle eût des soins et de l'empressement, + Et qui même la trouvât belle. + Amants, qui soupirez pour elle, + Sur ma parole tenez bon, +Bélise de l'amour ne hait que le nom. + + (Bélise for a lover sighed not, + But she wanted a faithful friend, +Who would cuddle her up and care for her lot, + And even her beauty defend. + Oh, you lovers, whose sighs I commend, +'Pon my word, hold fast to such game, +What of love Bélise hates is only the name.) + +But you are grieved by the injurious doubts cast upon your sincerity +and constancy. You are disbelieved because all men are false and +perjured, and because they are inconstant, love is withheld. How +fortunate you are! How little the Countess knows her own heart, if she +expects to persuade you of her indifference in that fashion! Do you +wish me to place a true value on the talk she is giving you? She is +very much affected by the passion you exhibit for her, but the +warnings and sorrows of her friends have convinced her that the +protestations of men are generally false. I do not conceive any +injustice in this, for I, who do not flatter men willingly, am +persuaded that they are usually sincere on such occasions. They become +amorous of a woman, that is they experience the desire of possession. +The enchanting image of that possession bewitches them; they calculate +that the delights connected with it will never end; they do not +imagine that the fire which consumes them can ever weaken or die out; +such a thing seems impossible to them. Hence they swear with the best +faith in the world to love us always; and to cast a doubt upon their +sincerity would be inflicting a mortal injury. + +But the poor fellows make more promises than they can keep. They do +not perceive that their heart has not enough energy always to hold the +same object. They cease to love without knowing why. They are good +enough to be scrupulous over their growing coldness. Long after love +has fled they continue to insist that they still love. They exert +themselves to no purpose, and after having tormented themselves as +long as they can bear it, they surrender to dissatisfaction, and +become inconstant with as much good faith as they possessed when they +protested that they would be forever constant. Nothing is simpler and +easier to explain. The fermentation of a budding love, excited in +their heart the charm that seduced them; by and by, the enchantment is +dispelled, and nonchalance follows. With what can they be charged? +They counted upon keeping their vows. Dear me, how many women are too +happy with what is lacking, since men give them a free rein to their +lightness! + +However this may be, the Countess has charged up to you the +inconstancy of your equals; she apprehends that you are no better than +all other lovers. Ready to yield to you, however little you may be +able to reassure her, she is trying to find reasons for believing you +sincere. The love you protest for her does not offend her. What am I +saying? It enchants her. She is so much flattered by it, that her sole +fear is that it may not be true. Dissipate her alarms, show her that +the happiness you offer her and of which she knows the price, is not +an imaginary happiness. Go farther; persuade her that she will enjoy +it forever, and her resistance will disappear, her doubts will vanish, +and she will seize upon everything that will destroy her suspicions +and uncertainty. She would have already believed you; already she +would have resolved to yield to the pleasure of being loved, if she +had believed herself really loved, and that it would last forever. + +How maladroit women are if they imagine that by their fears and their +doubts of the sincerity and constancy of men, they can make any one +believe they are fleeing from love, or despise it! As soon as they +fear they will be deceived in the enjoyment of its pleasures; when +they fear they will not long enjoy it, they already know the charms of +it, and the only source of anxiety then is, that they will be deprived +of its enjoyment too soon. Forever haunted by this fear, and attacked +by the powerful inclination toward pleasure, they hesitate, they +tremble with the apprehension that they will not be permitted to enjoy +it but just long enough to make the privation of it more painful. +Hence, Marquis, you may very easily conjecture a woman who talks to +you as does the Countess, using this language: + +"I can imagine all the delights of love. The idea I have formed of it +is quite seductive. Do you think that deep in my heart I desire to +enjoy its charms less than you? But the more its image is ravishing to +my imagination, the more I fear it is not real, and I refuse to yield +to it lest my happiness be too soon destroyed. Ah, if I could only +hope that my happiness might endure, how feeble would be my +resistance? But will you not abuse my credulity? Will you not some day +punish me for having had too much confidence in you? At least is that +day very far off? Ah, if I could hope to gather perpetually the +fruits of the sacrifice I am making of my repose for your sake, I +confess it frankly, we would soon be in accord." + + + + +XX + +The Half-way House to Love + + +The rival you have been given appears to me to be all the more +redoubtable, as he is the sort of a man I have been advising you to +be. I know the Chevalier; nobody is more competent than he to carry a +seduction to a successful conclusion. I am willing to wager anything +that his heart has never been touched. He makes advances to the +Countess in cold blood. You are lost. A lover as passionate as you +have appeared to be, makes a thousand blunders. The most favorable +designs would perish under your management. He permits everybody to +take the advantage of him on every occasion. Indeed, such is his +misfortune that his precipitation and his timidity injure his +prospects by turns. + +A man who makes love for the pleasure he finds in it, profits by the +smallest advantage; he knows the feeble places and makes himself +master of them. Everything leads his way, everything is combined for +his purpose. Even his imprudences are often the result of wise +reflection; they help him along the road to success; they finally +acquire so superior a position that, from their beginning, so to +speak, dates the hour of his triumph. + +You must be careful, Marquis, not to go to extremes; you must not show +the Countess enough love to lead her to understand the excess of your +passion. Give her something to be anxious about; compel her to take +heed lest she lose you, by giving her opportunities to think that she +may. There is no woman on earth who will treat you more cavalierly +than one who is absolutely certain that your love will not fail her. +Like a merchant for whose goods you have manifested too great an +anxiety to acquire, she will overcharge you with as little regard to +consequences. Moderate, therefore, your imprudent vivacity; manifest +less passion and you will excite more in her heart. We do not +appreciate the worth of a prize more than when we are on the point of +losing it. Some regulation in matters of love are indispensable for +the happiness of both parties. I think I am even justified in advising +you on certain occasions to be a trifle unprincipled. On all other +occasions, though, it is better to be a dupe than a knave; but in +affairs of gallantry, it is only the fools who are the dupes, and +knaves always have the laugh on their side. Adieu. + +I have not the conscience to leave you without a word of consolation. +Do not be discouraged. However redoubtable may be the Chevalier, let +your heart rest in peace. I suspect that the cunning Countess is +making a play with him to worry you. I have no desire to flatter you, +but it gives me pleasure to say, that you are worth more than he. You +are young, you are making your debut in the world, and you are +regarded as a man who has never yet had any love affairs. The +Chevalier has lived; what woman will not appreciate these differences? + + + + +XXI + +The Comedy of Contrariness + + +Probity in love, Marquis? How can you think of such a thing? Ah, you +are like a drowned man. I shall take good care not to show your letter +to any one, it would dishonor you. You do not know how to undertake +the manoeuvres I have advised you to make, you say? Your candor, your +high sentiments made your fortune formerly! Well, love was then +treated like an affair of honor, but nowadays, the corruption of the +age has changed all that; love is now nothing more than a play of the +humor and of vanity. + +Your inexperience still leaves your virtues in an inflexible condition +that will inevitably cause your ruin, if you have not enough +intelligence to bring them into accord with the morals of the times. +One can not now wear his sentiments on his sleeve. Everything is show; +payment is made in airs, demonstrations, signs. Everybody is playing a +comedy, and men have had excellent reasons for keeping up the farce. +They have discovered the fact that nobody can gain anything by telling +the actual truth about women. There is a general agreement to +substitute for this sincerity a collection of contrary phrases. And +this custom has proved contagious in cases of gallantry. + +In spite of your high principles, you will agree with me, that unless +that custom, called "politeness," is not pushed so far as irony or +treason, it is a sociable virtue to follow, and of all the relations +among men, the true meaning of gallantry has more need of being +concealed than that of any other social affair. How many occasions do +you not find where a lover gains more by dissimulating the excess of +his passion, than another who pretends to have more than he really +has? + +I think I understand the Countess; she is more skillful than you. I am +certain she dissimulates her affection for you with greater care than +you take to multiply proofs of yours for her. I repeat; the less you +expose yourself, the better you will be treated. Let her worry in her +turn; inspire her with the fear that she will lose you, and see her +come around. It is the surest way of finding out the true position you +occupy in her heart. Adieu. + + + + +XXII + +Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to Love + + +A silence of ten days, Marquis. You begin to worry me in earnest. The +application you made of my counsel has, then, been successful? I +congratulate you. What I do not approve, however, is your +dissatisfaction with her for refusing to make the confession you +desired. The words: "I love you" seem to be something precious in your +estimation. For fifteen days you have been trying to penetrate the +sentiments of the Countess, and you have succeeded; you know her +affection for you. What more can you possibly want? What further right +over her heart would a confession give you? Truly, I consider you a +strange character. You ought to know that nothing is more calculated +to cause a reasonable woman to revolt, than the obstinacy with which +ordinary men insist upon a declaration of their love. I fail to +understand you. Ought not her refusal to be a thousand times more +precious to a delicate minded lover than a positive declaration? Will +you ever know your real interests? Instead of persecuting a woman on +such a point, expend your energies in concealing from her the extent +of her affection. Act so that she will love you before you call her +attention to the fact, before compelling her to resort to the +necessity of proclaiming it. Is it possible to experience a situation +more delicious than that of seeing a heart interested in you without +suspicion, growing toward you by degrees, finally becoming +affectionate? What a pleasure to enjoy secretly all her movements, to +direct her sentiments, augment them, hasten them, and glory in the +victory even before she has suspected that you have essayed her +defeat! That is what I call pleasure. + +Believe me, Marquis, your conduct toward the Countess must be as if +the open avowal of her love for you had escaped her. Of a truth, she +has not said in words: "I love you," but it is because she really +loves you that she has refrained from saying it. Otherwise she has +done everything to convince you of it. + +Women are under no ordinary embarrassment. They desire for the very +least, as much to confess their affection as you are anxious to +ascertain it, but what do you expect, Marquis? Women ingenious at +raising obstacles, have attached a certain shame to any avowal of +their passion, and whatever idea you men may have formed of our way of +thinking, such an avowal always humiliates us, for however small may +be our experience, we comprehend all the consequences. The words "I +love you" are not criminal, that is true, but their sequel frightens +us, hence we find means to dissimulate, and close our eyes to the +liabilities they carry with them. + +Besides this, be on your guard; your persistence in requiring an open +avowal from the Countess, is less the work of love than a persevering +vanity. I defy you to find a mistake in the true motives behind your +insistence. Nature has given woman a wonderful instinct; it enables +her to discern without mistake whatever grows out of a passion in one +who is a stranger to her. Always indulgent toward the effects produced +by a love we have inspired, we will pardon you many imprudences, many +transports; how can I enumerate them all? All the follies of which you +lovers are capable, we pardon, but you will always find us intractable +when our self-esteem meets your own. Who would believe it? You inspire +us to revolt at things that have nothing to do with your happiness. +Your vanity sticks at trifles, and prevents you from enjoying actual +advantages. Will you believe me when I say it? You will drop your idle +fancies, to delight in the certainty that you are beloved by an +adorable woman; to taste the pleasure of hiding the extent of her love +from herself, to rejoice in its security. Suppose by force of +importunities you should extract an "I love you," what would you gain +by it? Would your uncertainty reach an end? Would you know whether you +owe the avowal to love or complaisance? I think I know women, I ought +to. They can deceive you by a studied confession which the lips only +pronounce, but you will never be the involuntary witness of a passion +you force from them. The true, flattering avowals we make, are not +those we utter, but those that escape us without our knowledge. + + + + +XXIII + +Two Irreconcilable Passions in Women + + +Will you pardon me, Marquis, for laughing at your afflictions? You +take things too much to heart. Some imprudences, you say, have drawn +upon you the anger of the Countess, and your anxiety is extreme. You +kissed her hand with an ecstasy that attracted the attention of +everybody present. She publicly reprimanded you for your indiscretion, +and your marked preference for her, always offensive to other women, +has exposed you to the railleries of the Marquise, her sister-in-law. +Dear me, these are without contradiction terrible calamities! What, +are you simple enough to believe that you are lost beyond salvation +because of an outward manifestation of anger, and you do not even +suspect that inwardly you are justified? You impose upon me the burden +of convincing you of the fact, and in doing so I am forced to reveal +some strange mysteries concerning women. But, I do not intend, in +writing you, to be always apologizing for my sex. I owe you frankness, +however, and having promised it I acquit myself of the promise. + +A woman is always balancing between two irreconcilable passions which +continually agitate her mind: the desire to please, and the fear of +dishonor. You can judge of our embarrassment. On the one hand, we are +consumed with the desire to have an audience to notice the effect of +our charms. Ever engaged in schemes to bring us into notoriety; +ravished whenever we are fortunate enough to humiliate other women, we +would make the whole world witness of the preferences we encounter, +and the homage bestowed upon us. Do you know the measure of our +satisfaction in such cases? The despair of our rivals, the +indiscretions that betray the sentiments we inspire, this enchants us +proportionately to the misery they suffer. Similar imprudences +persuade us much more that we are loved, than that our charms are +incapable of giving us a reputation. + +But what bitterness poisons such sweet pleasures! Beside so many +advantages marches the malignity of rival competitors, and sometimes +your disdain. A fatality which is mournful. The world makes no +distinction between women who permit you to love them, and those whom +you compensate for so doing. Uninfluenced, and sober-minded, a +reasonable woman always prefers a good reputation to celebrity. Put +her beside her rivals who contest with her the prize for beauty, and +though she may lose that reputation of which she appears so jealous, +though she compromise herself a thousand times, nothing is equal in +her opinion to see herself preferred to others. By and by, she will +recompense you by preferences; she will at first fancy that she grants +them out of gratitude, but they will be proofs of her attachment. In +her fear of appearing ungrateful, she becomes tender. + +Can you not draw from this that it is not your indiscretions which vex +us? If they wound us, we must pay tribute to appearances, and you +would be the first to censure an excessive indulgence. + +See that you do not misunderstand us. Not to vex us on such occasions +would be really to offend. We recommend you to practice discretion and +prudence, that is the rôle we enact, is it not? Is it necessary for me +to tell you the part you are to play? I am often reminded that +accepting the letter of the law, is to fail to understand it. You may +be sure that you will be in accord with our intentions as soon as you +are able to interpret them properly. + + + + +XXIV + +An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable + + +The Countess no longer retreats? You think she has no other object in +view than to put your love to the proof? Whatever preference you have +manifested for her; however little precaution you have taken to +testify to your passion, she finds nothing in you but cause for +scolding. The least excuse, however, and the reproaches die upon her +lips, and her anger is so delightful that you do everything to deserve +it. Permit me to share in your joy with all my heart. But although +this behavior flatters you, if you consider that such acts are not +intended to be of long duration, how badly reasonable women, who value +their reputation, misunderstand their true interests by thus +multiplying through an affected incredulity, occasions for slandering +them. Do they not understand and feel that it is not always the moment +when they are tender which gives a blow to their reputation? The doubt +they cast upon the sincerity of the affection they have inspired, does +them more harm in the eyes of the world than even their defeat. As +long as they continue incredulous the slightest imprudence compromises +them. They dispose of their reputation at retail. + +Whenever a lover finds a woman incredulous of the truth of his +sentiments, he goes full lengths, every time he has an opportunity, to +furnish proofs of his sincerity. The most indiscreet eagerness, the +most marked preferences, the most assiduous attentions, seem to him +the best means of succeeding. Can he make use of them without calling +the attention of the whole world to the fact; without offending every +other woman and giving them occasions to be revenged by their sharpest +arrows? + +As soon as the preliminaries are settled, that is to say, as soon as +we commence to believe ourselves sincerely loved, nothing appears on +the surface, nothing happens; and if outsiders perceive our liaison, +if they put a malicious construction upon it, it will only be by the +recollection of what passed during a time when love was not in +question. + +I would, for the good of everybody concerned, that as soon as a woman +ceases to find any pleasure in the society of a man who wishes to +please her, that she could tell him so clearly and dismiss him, +without abusing his credulity, or giving him ground for vain hopes. +But I would also, that as soon as a woman is persuaded that a man +loves her, she could consent to it in good faith, reserving to +herself, however, the right to be further entreated, to such a point +as she may deem apropos, before making an avowal that she feels as +tenderly disposed toward her lover, as he is toward her. For, a woman +can not pretend to doubt without putting her lover to the necessity of +dissipating her doubts, and he can not do that successfully without +taking the whole world into his confidence by a too marked homage. + +I know very well that these ideas would not have been probable in +times when the ignorance of men rendered so many women intractable, +but, in these times when the audacity of our assailants leaves us so +few resources, in these times, I say, when, since the invention of +powder, there are few impregnable places, why undertake a prolonged +formal siege, when it is certain that after much labor and many +disasters it will be necessary to capitulate? + +Bring your amiable Countess to reason; show her the inconveniences of +a prolonged disregard of your sentiments. You will convince her of +your passion, you will compel her to believe you through regard for +her reputation, and still better, perhaps, you will furnish her with +an additional reason for giving you a confidence she doubtless now +finds it difficult to withhold from you. + + + + +XXV + +Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome + + +My last letter has apparently scandalized you, Marquis. You insist +that it is not impossible to find virtuous women in our age of the +world. Well, have I ever said anything to the contrary? Comparing +women to besieged castles, have I ever advanced the idea that there +were some that had not been taken? How could I have said such a thing? +There are some that have never been besieged, so you perceive that I +am of your opinion. I will explain, however, so that there will be no +more chicanery about the question. + +Here is my profession of faith in this matter: I firmly believe that +there are good women who have never been attacked, or who have been +wrongly attacked. + +I further firmly believe that there are good women who have been +attacked and well attacked, when they have had neither disposition, +violent passions, liberty, nor a hated husband. + +I have a mind at this point to put you in possession of a rather +lively conversation on this particular point, while I was still very +young, with a prude, whom an adventure of some brilliancy unmasked. I +was inexperienced then, and I was in the habit of judging others with +that severity which every one is disposed to manifest until some +personal fault has made us more indulgent toward our neighbors. I had +considered it proper to blame the conduct of this woman without mercy. +She heard of it. I sometimes saw her at an aunt's, and made +preparations to attack her morals. Before I had an opportunity she +took the matter into her own hands, by taking me aside one day, and +compelled me to submit to the following harangue, which I confess made +a deep impression in my memory: + +"It is not for the purpose of reproaching you for the talk you have +been making on my account, that I wish to converse with you in the +absence of witnesses," she explained, "it is to give you some advice, +the truth and solidity of which you will one day appreciate. + +"You have seen fit to censure my conduct with a severity, you have +actually treated me with a disdain, which tells me how proud you are +of the fact that you have never been taken advantage of. You believe +in your own virtue and that it will never abandon you. This is a pure +illusion of your amour propre, my dear child, and I feel impelled to +enlighten your inexperience, and to make you understand, that far from +being sure of that virtue which renders you so severe, you are not +even sure that you have any at all. This prologue astonishes you, eh? +Well, listen with attention, and you will soon be convinced of the +truth whereof I speak. + +"Up to the present time, nobody has ever spoken to you of love. Your +mirror alone has told you that you are beautiful. Your heart, I can +see by the appearance of indifference that envelops you like a +mantle, has not yet been developed. As long as you remain as you are, +as long as you can be kept in sight as you are, I will be your +guarantee. But when your heart has spoken, when your enchanting eyes +shall have received life and expression from sentiment, when they +shall speak the language of love, when an internal unrest shall +agitate your breast, when, in fine, desire, half stifled by the +scruples of a good education, shall have made you blush more than once +in secret, then your sensibility, through the combats by which you +will attempt to vanquish it, will diminish your severity toward +others, and their faults will appear more excusable. + +"The knowledge of your weakness will no longer permit you to regard +your virtue as infallible. Your astonishment will carry you still +farther. The little help it will be to you against too impetuous +inclinations, will make you doubt whether you ever had any virtue. Can +you say a man is brave before he has ever fought? It is the same with +us. The attacks made upon us are alone the parents of our virtue, as +danger gives birth to valor. As long as one has not been in the +presence of the enemy, it is impossible to say whether he is to be +feared, and what degree of resistance it will be necessary to bear +against him. + +"Hence to justify a woman in flattering herself that she is +essentially virtuous and good by force of her own strength, she must +be in a position where no danger, however great it may be, no motive +no matter how pressing, no pretext whatever, shall be powerful enough +to triumph over her. She must meet with the most favorable +opportunities, the most tender love, the certainty of secrecy, the +esteem and the most perfect confidence in him who attacks her. In a +word, all these circumstances combined should not be able to make an +impression upon her courage, so that to know whether a woman be +virtuous in the true meaning of the word, one must imagine her as +having escaped unscathed all these united dangers, for it would not be +virtue but only resistance where there should be love without the +disposition, or disposition without the occasion. Her virtue would +always be uncertain, as long as she had never been attacked by all the +weapons which might vanquish her. One might always say of her: if she +had been possessed of a different constitution, she might not have +resisted love, or, if a favorable occasion had presented itself, her +virtue would have played the fool." + +"According to this," said I, "it would be impossible to find a single +virtuous woman, for no one has ever had so many enemies to combat." + +"That may be," she replied, "but do you know the reason? Because it is +not necessary to have so many to overcome us, one alone is sufficient +to obtain the victory." + +But I stuck to my proposition: "You pretend then that our virtue does +not depend upon ourselves, since you make it the puppet of occasion, +and of other causes foreign to our own will?" + +"There is no doubt about it," she answered. "Answer me this: Can you +give yourself a lively or sedate disposition? Are you free to defend +yourself against a violent passion? Does it depend upon you to arrange +all the circumstances of your life, so that you will never find +yourself alone with a lover who adores you, who knows his advantages +and how to profit by them? Does it depend upon you to prevent his +pleadings, I assume them to be innocent at first, from making upon +your senses the impression they must necessarily make? Certainly not; +to insist upon such an anomaly would be to deny that the magnet is +master of the needle. And you pretend that your virtue is your own +work, that you can personally claim the glory of an advantage that is +liable to be taken from you at any moment? Virtue in women, like all +the other blessings we enjoy, is a gift from Heaven; it is a favor +which Heaven may refuse to grant us. Reflect then how unreasonable you +are in glorifying in your virtue: consider your injustice when you so +cruelly abuse those who have had the misfortune to be born with an +ungovernable inclination toward love, whom a sudden violent passion +has surprised, or who have found themselves in the midst of +circumstances out of which you would not have emerged with any greater +glory. + +"Shall I give you another proof of the justice of my ideas? I will +take it from your own conduct. Are you not dominated by that deep +persuasion that every woman who wishes to preserve her virtue, need +never allow herself to be caught, that she must watch over the +smallest trifles, because they lead to things of greater importance? +It is much easier for you to take from men the desire to make an +attack upon your virtue by assuming a severe exterior, than to defend +against their attacks. The proof of this is in the fact that we give +young girls in their education as little liberty as is possible in +order to restrain them. We do more: a prudent mother does not rely +upon her fear of dishonor, nor upon the bad opinion she has of men, +she keeps her daughter out of sight; she puts it out of her power to +succumb to temptation. What is the excuse for so many precautions? +Because the mother fears the frailty of her pupil, if she is exposed +for an instant to danger. + +"In spite of all these obstacles with which she is curbed, how often +does it not happen that love overcomes them all? A girl well trained, +or better, well guarded, laughs at her virtue, because she imagines it +is all her own, whereas, it is generally a slave rigorously chained +down, who thinks everybody is satisfied with him as long as he does +not run away. Let us inquire further into this: In what class do you +find abandoned females? In that where they have not sufficient wealth +or happiness constantly to provide themselves with the obstacles which +have saved you; in that, where men have attacked their virtue with +more audacity, more facility, more frequency, and more impunity, and +consequently with more advantages of every sort; in that, where the +impressions of education, of example, of pride, the desire of a +satisfactory establishment could not sustain them. Two doors below, +there is a woman whom you hate and despise. And in spite of the +outside aid which sustains that virtue, of which you are so proud, in +two days you might be more despicable than she, because you will have +had greater helps to guarantee you against misfortune. I am not +seeking to deprive you of the merit of your virtue, nor am I +endeavoring to prevent you from attaching too much importance to it; +by convincing you of its fragility, I wish to obtain from you only a +trifle of indulgence for those whom a too impetuous inclination, or +the misfortunes of circumstances have precipitated into a position so +humiliating in their own eyes; my sole object is to make you +understand that you ought to glorify yourself less in the possession +of an advantage which you do not owe to yourself, and of which you may +be deprived to-morrow." + +She was going to continue, but some one interrupted us. Soon +afterward, I learned by my own experience that I should not have had +so good an opinion of many virtues which had been formerly imposed +upon me, beginning with my own. + + + + +XXVI + +Love Demands Freedom of Action + + +I have been of the same opinion as you, Marquis, although the ideas I +communicated to you yesterday appeared to be true speculatively, that +it would be dangerous if all women were to be guided by them. It is +not by a knowledge of their frailty, that women will remain virtuous, +but by the conviction that they are free and mistresses of themselves +when it comes to yield or to resist. Is it by persuading a soldier +that he will be vanquished that he is goaded into fighting with +courage? Did you not notice that the woman who did the talking as I +have related in my last letter, had a personal interest in maintaining +her system? It is true, that when we examine her reasoning according +to the rules of philosophy, it does seem to be a trifle specious, but +it is to be feared that in permitting ourselves to reason in that +fashion on what virtue is, we may succeed in converting into a +problem, the rules we should receive and observe as a law, which it is +a crime to construe. Moreover, to persuade women that it is not to +themselves they are indebted for the virtue they possess, might it mot +deprive them of the most powerful motive to induce them to preserve +it? I mean by that, the persuasion that it is their own work they +defend. The consequences of such morality would be discouraging, and +tend to diminish, in the eyes of a guilty woman, the importance of her +errors. But let us turn to matters of more interest to you. + +At last, after so many uncertainties, after so many revolutions in +your imagination, you are sure you are loved? You have finally +succeeded in exciting the Countess to divulge her secret during a +moment of tenderness. The words you burned to hear have been +pronounced. More, she has allowed to escape her, a thousand +involuntary proofs of the passion you have inspired. Far from +diminishing your love, the certainty that you are beloved in return +has increased it; in a word, you are the happiest of men. If you knew +with how much pleasure I share your happiness you would be still +happier. The first sacrifice she desired to make was to refuse to +receive the Chevalier: you were opposed to her making it, and you were +quite right. It would have compromised the Countess for nothing, which +calls to my mind the fact, that women generally lose more by +imprudence than by actual faults. The confidence you so nobly +manifested in her, ought to have greatly impressed her. + +Everything is now as it should be. However, shall I tell you +something? The way this matter has turned out alarms me. We agreed, if +you remember, that we were to treat the subject of love without +gloves. You were not to have at the most but a light and fleeting +taste of it, and not a regulated passion. Now I perceive that things +become more serious every day. You are beginning to treat love with a +dignity which worries me. The knowledge of true merits, solid +qualities, and good character is creeping into the motives of your +liaison, and combining with the personal charms which render you so +blindly amorous. I do not like to have so much esteem mixed with an +affair of pure gallantry. It leaves no freedom of action, it is work +instead of amusement. I was afraid in the beginning that your +relations would assume a grave and measured turn. But perhaps you will +only too soon have new pretensions, and the Countess by new disputes +will doubtless re-animate your liaison. Too constant a peace is +productive of a deadly ennui. Uniformity kills love, for as soon as +the spirit of method mingles in an affair of the heart, the passion +disappears, languor supervenes, weariness begins to wear, and disgust +ends the chapter. + + + + +XXVII + +The Heart Needs Constant Employment + + +Madame de Sévigné does not agree with me upon the causes of love as I +give them. She pretends that many women know it only from its refined +side, and that the senses never count for anything in their heart +affairs. According to her, although what she calls my "system" should +be well founded, it would always be unbecoming in the mouth of a +woman, and might become a precedent in morals. + +These are assuredly very serious exceptions, Marquis, but are they +well grounded? I do not think so. I see with pain that Madame de +Sévigné has not read my letters in the spirit I wrote them. What, I +the founder of systems? Truly, she does me too much honor, I have +never been serious enough to devise any system. Besides, according to +my notion, a system is nothing but a philosophic dream, and therefore +does she consider all I have told you as a play of the imagination? In +that case, we are very far out of our reckoning. I do not imagine, I +depict real objects. I would have one truth acknowledged, and to +accomplish that, my purpose is not to surprise the mind; I consult the +sentiments. Perhaps she has been struck by the singularity of some of +my propositions, which appeared to me so evident that I did not think +it worth while to maintain them; but is it necessary to make use of a +mariner's compass to develop the greater or less amount of truth in a +maxim of gallantry? + +Moreover, I have such a horror of formal discussions, that I would +prefer to agree to anything rather than engage in them. Madame de +Sévigné, you say, is acquainted with a number of female +metaphysicians--there! there! I will grant her these exceptions, +provided she leaves me the general thesis. I will even admit, if you +so desire, that there are certain souls usually styled "privileged," +for I have never heard anybody deny the virtues of temperament. So, I +have nothing to say about women of that species. I do not criticise +them, nor have I any reproaches to make them; neither do I believe it +my duty to praise them, it is sufficient to congratulate them. +However, if you investigate them you will discover the truth of what I +have been saying since the commencement of our correspondence: the +heart must be occupied with some object. If nature does not incline +them in that direction, no one can lead them in the direction of +gallantry, their affection merely changes its object. Such a one +to-day appears to be insensible to the emotion of love, only because +she has disposed of all that portion of the sentiment she had to give. +The Count de Lude, it is said, was not always indifferent to Madame de +Sévigné. Her extreme tenderness for Madame Grignan (her daughter), +however, occupies her entire time at present. According to her, I am +very much at fault concerning women? In all charity I should have +disguised the defects which I have discovered in my sex, or, if you +prefer to have it that way, which my sex have discovered in me. + +But, do you really believe, Marquis, that if everything I have said on +this subject be made public, the women would be offended? Know them +better, Marquis; all of them would find there what is their due. +Indeed, to tell them that it is purely a mechanical instinct which +inclines them to flirt, would not that put them at their ease? Does it +not seem to be restoring to favor that fatality, those expressions of +sympathy, which they are so delighted to give as excuses for their +mistakes, and in which I have so little faith? Granting that love is +the result of reflection, do you not see what a blow you are giving +their vanity? You place upon their shoulders the responsibility far +their good or bad choice. + +One more thrust, Marquis: I am not mistaken when I say that all women +would be satisfied with my letters. The female metaphysicians, that +is, those women whom Heaven has favored with a fortunate constitution, +would take pleasure in recognizing in them their superiority over +other women; they would not fail to congratulate themselves upon the +delicacy of their own sentiments, and to consider them as works of +their own creation. Those whom nature built of less refined material, +would without doubt owe me some gratitude for revealing a secret which +was weighing upon them. They have made it a duty to disguise their +inclinations, and they are as anxious not to fail in this duty as they +are careful not to lose anything on the pleasure side of the question. +Their interest, therefore, is, to have their secret guessed without +being compromised. Whoever shall develop their hearts, will not fail +to render them an essential service. I am even fully convinced that +those women, who at heart, profess sentiments more comformable to +mine, would be the first to consider it an honor to dispute them. +Hence, I would be paying my court to women in two fashions, which +would be equally agreeable: In adopting the maxims which flatter their +inclinations, and in furnishing them with an occasion to appear +refined. + +After all, Marquis, do you think it would betray a deep knowledge of +women, to believe that they could be offended with the malicious talk +I have been giving you about them? Somebody said a long time ago, that +women would rather have a little evil said of them than not be talked +about at all You see therefore, that even supposing that I have +written you in the intention with which I am charged, they would be +very far from being able to reproach me in the slightest degree. + +Finally, Madame de Sévigné pretends that my "system" might become a +precedent. Truly, Marquis, I do not understand how, with the justice +for which she is noted, she was able to surrender to such an idea. In +stripping love, as I have, of everything liable to seduce you, in +making it out to be the effect of temperament, caprice, and vanity; +in a word, in undeceiving you concerning the metaphysics that lend it +grandeur and nobility, is it not evident that I have rendered it less +dangerous? Would it not be more dangerous, if, as pretends Madame de +Sévigné, it were to be transformed into a virtue? I would willingly +compare my sentiments with those of the celebrated legislator of +antiquity, who believed the best means of weakening the power of women +over his fellow citizens was to expose their nakedness. But I wish to +make one more effort in your favor. Since I am regarded as a woman +with a system, it will be better for me to submit to whatever such a +fine title exacts. Let us reason, therefore, for a moment upon +gallantry according to the method which appertains only to serious +matters. + +Is love not a passion? Do not very strict minded people pretend that +the passions and vices mean the same things? Is vice ever more +seductive than when it wears the cloak of virtue? Wherefore in order +to corrupt virtuous souls it is sufficient for it to appear in a +potential form. This is the form in which the Platonicians deified it. +In all ages, in order to justify the passions, it was necessary to +apotheosize them. What am I saying? Am I so bold as to play the +iconoclast with an accredited superstition? What temerity! Do I not +deserve to be persecuted by all women for attacking their favorite +cult? + +I am sorry for them; it was so lovely, when they felt the movements of +love, to be exempt from blushing, to be able even to congratulate +themselves, and lay the blame upon the operations of a god. But what +had poor humanity done to them? Why misunderstand it and seek for the +cause of its weakness in the Heavens? Let us remain on earth, we shall +find it there, and it is its proper home. + +In truth, I have never in my letters openly declaimed against love; I +have never advised you not to take the blame of it. I was too well +persuaded of the uselessness of such advice; but I told you what love +is, and I therefore diminished the illusion it would not have failed +to create in your mind; I weakened its power over you and experience +will justify me. + +I am perfectly well aware that a very different use is made of it in +the education of females. And what sort of profit is there in the +methods employed? The very first step is to deceive them. Their +teachers strive to inspire them with as much fear of love as of evil +spirits. Men are depicted as monsters of infidelity and perfidy. Now +suppose a gentleman appears who expresses delicate sentiments, whose +bearing is modest and respectful? The young woman with whom he +converses will believe she has been imposed upon; and as soon as she +discovers how much exaggeration there has been, her advisers will lose +all credit so far as she is concerned. Interrogate such a young woman, +and if she is sincere, you will find that the sentiments the alleged +monster has excited in her heart are far from being the sentiments of +horror. + +They are deceived in another manner also, and the misery of it is, it +is almost impossible to avoid it. Infinite care is taken to keep from +them the knowledge, to prevent them from having even an idea that they +are liable to be attacked by the senses, and that such attacks are the +most dangerous of all for them. They are drilled in the idea that they +are immaculate spirits, and what happens then? Inasmuch as they have +never been forewarned of the species of attacks they must encounter, +they are left without defense. They have never mistrusted that their +most redoubtable enemy is the one that has never been mentioned: how +then can they be on their guard against him? It is not men they should +be taught to fear, but themselves? What could a lover do, if the woman +he attacks were not seduced by her own desires? + +So, Marquis, when I say to women that the principal cause of their +weaknesses is physical, I am far from advising them to follow their +inclinations; on the contrary, it is for the purpose of putting them +on their guard in that respect. It is saying to the Governor of the +citadel, that he will not be attacked at the spot which up to then has +been the best fortified; that the most redoubtable assault will not be +made by the besiegers, but that he will be betrayed by his own. + +In a word, in reducing to their just value, the sentiments to which +women attach such high and noble ideas; in enlightening them upon the +real object of a lover who pretends to great delicacy and refinement, +do you not see that I am interesting their vanity to draw less glory +out of the fact of being loved, and their hearts to take less pleasure +in loving? Depend upon it, that if it were possible to enlist their +vanity in opposition to their inclination to gallantry, their virtue +would most assuredly suffer very little. + +I have had lovers, but none of them deceived me by any illusions. I +could penetrate their motives astonishingly well. I was always +persuaded that if whatever was of value from the standpoint of +intellect and character, was considered as anything among the reasons +that led them to love me, it was only because those qualities +stimulated their vanity. They were amorous of me, because I had a +beautiful figure, and they possessed the desire. So it came about that +they never obtained more than the second place in my heart. I have +always conserved for friendship the deference, the constancy, and the +respect even, which a sentiment so noble, so worthy deserves in an +elevated soul. It has never been possible for me to overcome my +distrust for hearts in which love was the principal actor. This +weakness degraded them in my eyes; I considered them incompetent to +raise their mind up to sentiments of true esteem for a woman for whom +they have felt a desire. + +You see, therefore, Marquis, that the precedent I draw from my +principles is far from being dangerous. All that enlightened minds can +find with which to reproach me, will be, perhaps, because I have +taken the trouble to demonstrate a truth which they do not consider +problematic. But does not your inexperience and your curiosity justify +whatever I have written so far, and whatever I may yet write you on +this subject? + + + + +XXVIII + +Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance + + +You are not mistaken, Marquis, the taste and talent of the Countess +for the clavecin (piano) will tend to increase your love and +happiness. I have always said that women do not fully realize the +advantages they might draw from their talents; indeed, there is not a +moment when they are not of supreme utility; most women always +calculating on the presence of a beloved object as the only thing to +be feared. In such case they have two enemies to combat; their love +and their lover. But when the lover departs, love remains; and +although the progress it makes in solitude is not so rapid, it is no +less dangerous. It is then that the execution of a sonata, the +sketching of a flower, the reading of a good book, will distract the +attention from a too seductive remembrance, and fix the mind on +something useful. All occupations which employ the mind are so many +thefts from love. + +Suppose his inclination brings a lover to our knees, what can he +accomplish with a woman who is only tender and pretty? With what can +he employ his time if he does not find in her society something +agreeable, some variety? Love is an active sentiment, it is a +consuming fire always demanding additional fuel, and if it can find +only sensible objects upon which to feed, it will keep to that diet. I +mean to say, that when the mind is not occupied the senses find +something to do. + +There are too many gesticulations while talking, sometimes I think we +shall be compelled to use sign language with a person we know to be +unable to understand a more refined language. It is not in resisting +advances, nor in taking offense at too bold a caress that a woman is +enabled to maintain her virtue. When she is attacked in that fashion, +even while defending herself, her senses are excited and the very +agitation which impels her to resist, hastens her defeat. But it is by +distracting the attention of the man to other objects, that the woman +is relieved of the necessity of resisting his advances, or taking +offense at his liberties to which she herself has opened the way, for +there is one thing certain, which is, that a man will never disappoint +a woman who is anxious for him. + +You will not find a single woman, unless you can suppose one +absolutely ignorant, who is not able to gauge exactly the degree of +familiarity she ought to permit. Those who complain that their lovers +do not come up to the mark do not affect me in the least. Inquire into +the reason, and you will perceive that their stupidities, their +imprudences are the cause. It was their desire to be found wanting. + +Defect in culture may expose us to the same inconveniences, for with a +woman without mind, and without talents what else is there to do but +undertake her conquest? When in her company, the only way to kill +time is to annoy her. There is nothing to talk about but her beauty, +and of the impression she has made upon the senses, and sensual +language is the only one that can be employed for that purpose. She +herself is not convinced that you love her, and she does not respond, +she does not recompense you but by the assistance of the senses, and +exhibits an agitation equal to yours, or else, her decency gone, she +has nothing but bad humor with which to oppose you. This is the last +ditch of a woman without mind, and what a culmination! On the +contrary, what are not the advantages of an intelligent, resourceful +woman? A lively repartee, piquant raillery, a quarrel seasoned with a +trifle of malice, a happy citation, a graceful recitation, are not +these so many distractions for her, and the time thus employed, is it +not so much gained for virtue? + +The great misfortune with women is, without doubt, the inability to +find occupations worthy of their attention, and this is the reason why +love with them is a more violent passion than with men, but they have +a characteristic which, properly directed may serve as an antidote. +All women, to say the least, are as vain as they are sensitive, +whence, the cure for sensitiveness is vanity. While a woman is +occupied in pleasing in other ways than by the beauty of her figure, +she loses sight of the sentiment which inspires her to act. In truth, +this sentiment will not cease to be the "determining motive" (you must +permit me to use some technical term of art), but it will not be the +actual object presented to her attention, and that is something +gained. Wholly devoted to the care of becoming perfect in the species +of glory to which she aspires, this same desire, of which love will be +the source, will turn against love, by dividing the attention of the +mind and the affections of the heart; in a word it will create a +diversion. + +But perhaps you will tell me that there are women of spirit and +talents beyond the reach of attack. Whence you infer that men who do +not dislike freedom will avoid them, but that fools and men of +intelligence cultivate them. That is true, but the fools take to them +because they do not perceive the difficulty in their way, and men of +intelligence do not avoid them, because they aspire to surmount it. + +Now, ought not you, who are a military man, to appreciate everything I +say to you about talent? I will suppose a campaign upon which you have +entered; you have been given charge of conducting the siege of a city. +Would you be satisfied if the governor, persuaded that the city is not +impregnable, should open to you the gates without having given you the +least occasion to distinguish yourself? I venture to say not; he +should resist, and the more he seeks to cover himself with glory, the +more glory he gives you. Well, Marquis, in love as in war, the +pleasure of obtaining a victory is measured according to the obstacles +in the way of it. Shall I say it? I am tempted to push the parallel +farther. See what it is to take a first step. The true glory of a +woman consists less, perhaps, in yielding, than in putting in a good +defense, so that she will merit the honors of war. + +I shall go still farther. Let a woman become feeble enough to be at +the point of yielding, what is left her to retain a satisfactory +lover, if her intelligence and talents do not come to her aid? I am +well aware that they do not give themselves these advantages, but if +we investigate the matter, we shall find that there are very few women +who may not acquire a few accomplishments if they really set about it; +the difference would only be the more, at least. But women are +generally born too indolent to be able to make such an effort. They +have discovered that there is nothing so convenient as being pretty. +This manner of pleasing does not require any labor; they would be glad +not to have any other. Blind that they are, they do not see that +beauty and talents equally attract the attention of men, but, beauty +merely exposes her who possesses it, whereas talents furnish her with +the means of defending it. + +In a word, to appreciate it at its full value, beauty stores up +regrets and a mortal weariness for the day when it shall cease to +exist. Would you know the reason? It is because it drowns out all +other resources. As long as beauty lasts, a woman is regarded as +something, she is celebrated, a crowd sighs at her feet. She flatters +herself that this will go on forever. What a desolate solitude when +age comes to ravish her of the only merit she possesses? I would like, +therefore (my expression is not elevated, but it interprets my +thought), I would like that in a woman, beauty could be a sign of +other advantages. + +Let us agree, Marquis, that in love, the mind is made more use of than +the heart. A liaison of the heart is a drama in which the acts are the +shortest and the between acts the longest; with what then, would you +fill the interludes if not with accomplishments? Possession puts every +woman on the same level, and exposes all of them equally to +infidelity. The elegant and the beautiful, when they are nothing else, +have not, in that respect, any advantage over her who is plain; the +mind, in that case making all the difference. That alone can bestow +upon the same person the variety necessary to prevent satiety. +Moreover, it is only accomplishments that can fill the vacuum of a +passion that has been satisfied, and we can always have them in any +situation we may imagine, either to postpone defeat and render it more +flattering, or to assure us of our conquests. Lovers themselves profit +by them. How many things they cherish although they set their faces +against them? Wherefore, let the Countess, while cultivating her +decided talent for the clavecin, understand her interests and yours. + +I have read over my letter, my dear Marquis, and I tremble lest you +find it a trifle serious. You see what happens when one is in bad +company. I supped last night with M. de la Rochefoucauld, and I never +see him that he does not spoil me in this fashion, at least for three +or four days. + + + + +XXIX + +The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal + + +I think as you do, Marquis, the Countess punishes you too severely for +having surprised an avowal of her love. Is it your fault if her secret +escaped? She has gone too far to retreat. A woman can experience a +return to reason, but to go so far as to refuse to see you for three +days; give out that she has gone into the country for a month; return +your tender letters without opening them, is, in my opinion, a +veritable caprice of virtue. After all, however, do not despair +whatever may happen. If she were really indifferent she would be less +severe. + +Do not make any mistake about this: There are occasions when a woman +is less out of humor with you than with herself. She feels with +vexation that her weakness is ready to betray her at any moment. She +punishes you for it, and she punishes herself by being unkind to you. +But you may be sure that one day of such caprice advances the progress +of a lover more than a year of care and assiduity. A woman soon begins +to regret her unkindness; she deems herself unjust; she desires to +repair her fault, and she becomes benevolent. + +What surprises me the most is the marked passage in your letter which +states that since the Countess has appeared to love you, her +character has totally changed. I have no particular information on +that point. All I know is, that she made her debut in society as a +lady of elegance, and her debut was all the more marked because, +during the life of her husband, her conduct was entirely the contrary. +Do you not remember when you first made her acquaintance, that she was +lively even to giddiness, heedless, bold, even coquettish, and +appeared to be incapable of a reasonable attachment? However, to-day, +you tell me, she has become a serious melancholic; pre-occupied, +timid, affected; sentiment has taken the place of mincing airs; at +least she appears to so fit in with the character she assumes to-day, +that you imagine it to be her true one, and her former one, borrowed. +All my philosophy would be at fault in such a case, if I did not +recognize in this metamorphosis the effects of love. I am very much +mistaken if the storm raging around you to-day, does not end in the +most complete victory, and one all the more assured because she has +done everything in her power to prevent it. But if you steadily pursue +your object, carrying your pursuit even as far as importunity, follow +her wherever she goes and where you can see her; if you take it upon +yourself not to allude to your passion, and treat her with all the +mannerism of an attentive follower, respectful, but impressed, what +will happen? She will be unable to refuse you the courtesies due any +indifferent acquaintance. Women possess an inexhaustible fund of +kindness for those who love them. You know this well, you men, and it +is what always reassures you when you are treated unkindly. You know +that your presence, your attentions, the sorrow that affects you have +their effect, and end by disarming our pride. + +You are persuaded that those whom our virtue keeps at a distance +through pride, are precisely those whom it fears the most, and +unfortunately, your guess is only too just, it keeps them off, indeed, +because it is not sure of its ability to resist them. It does more +sometimes, it goes to the length of braving an enemy whose attack it +dares not anticipate. In a word, the courage of a reasonable woman is +nearly always equal to a first effort, but rarely is that effort +lasting. The very excess of its violence is the cause of its +weakening. The soul has only one degree of force, and exhausted by the +constraint that effort cost it, it abandons itself to lassitude. By +and by, the knowledge of its weakness throws it into discouragement. A +woman of that disposition bears the first shock of a redoubtable enemy +with courage, but, the danger better understood, she fears a second +attack. A woman, persuaded that she has done everything possible to +defend herself against an inclination which is urging her on, +satisfied with the combats in which she has been engaged, finally +reaches the opinion that her resistance can not prevail against the +power of love. If she still resist, it is not by her own strength; she +derives no help except from the idea of the intrepidity she at first +displayed to him who attacks, or from the timidity she inspired in +him in the beginning of her resistance. Thus it is, that however +reasonable she may be, she nearly always starts out with a fine +defense, she only needs pride to resolve upon that; but unfortunately, +you divine the means of overcoming her, you persevere in your attacks, +she is not indefatigable, and you have so little delicacy that, +provided you obtain her heart, it is of no consequence to you whether +you have obtained it through your importunities or with her consent. + +Besides that, Marquis, the excess of precautions a woman takes against +you, is strong evidence of how much you are feared. If you were an +object of indifference, would a woman take the trouble to avoid you? I +declare to you that she would not honor you by being afraid of you. +But I know how unreasonable lovers are. Always ingenious in tormenting +themselves, the habit of never having but one object in view is so +powerful, that they prefer being pestered with one that is +disagreeable than with none at all. + +However, I feel sorry for you. Smitten as you are, your situation can +not fail to be a sad one. The poor Marquis, how badly he is treated! + + + + +XXX + +When Resistance Is Only a Pretense + + +I was delighted to learn before my departure for the country, that +your mind was more at rest. I feel free to say, that if the Countess +had persevered in treating you with the same severity, I should have +suspected, not that she was insensible to your love, but that you had +a fortunate rival. The resistance manifested by her would have been +beyond her strength in a single combat. For you should be well +advised, Marquis, that a woman is never more intractable than when she +assumes a haughtiness toward all other men, for the sake of her +favorite lover. + +I see in everything you have told me, proofs that you are loved, and +that you are the only one. I will be able to give you constant news on +that score, for I am going to investigate the Countess for myself. +This will surprise you, no doubt. Your astonishment will cease, +however, when you call to mind that Madame de la Sablière's house, +where I am going to spend a week, adjoins the grounds of your amiable +widow. You told me that she was at home, and, add to the neighborhood, +the unmeasured longing I have to make her acquaintance, you will not +be surprised at the promise I have just made you. + +I have not the time to finish this letter, nor the opportunity to +send it. I must depart immediately, and my traveling companion is +teasing me in a strange fashion, pretending that I am writing a love +letter. I am letting her think what she pleases, and carry the letter +with me to the country. Adieu. What! Madame de Grignan's illness will +not permit you to visit us in our solitude? + +Du Château de---. + +I am writing you from the country house of the Countess, my dear +Marquis, this is the third day I have been with her, which will enable +you to understand that I am not in bad favor with the mistress of the +house. She is an adorable woman, I am delighted with her. I sometimes +doubt whether you deserve a heart like hers. Here I am her confidante. +She has told me all she thinks about you, and I do not despair of +discovering, before I return to the city, the reasons for the change +in her character which you have remarked. I dare not write you more +now, I may be interrupted, and I do not wish any one to know that I am +writing you from this place. Adieu. + + + + +XXXI + +The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la Sablière + + +How many things I have to tell you, Marquis! I was preparing to keep +my word with you, and had arranged to use strategy upon the Countess +to worm her secret from her, when chance came to my aid. + +You are not ignorant of her confidence in Monsieur de la Sablière. She +was with him just now in an arbor of the garden, and I was passing +through a bushy path intending to join them, when the mention of your +name arrested my steps. I was not noticed, and heard all the +conversation, which I hasten to communicate to you word for word. + +"I have not been able to conceal from your penetration, my inclination +for M. de Sévigné," said the Countess, "and you can not reconcile the +serious nature of so decided a passion with the frivolity attributed +to me in society. You will be still more astonished when I tell you +that my exterior character is not my true one, that the seriousness +you notice in me now, is a return to my former disposition; I was +never giddy except through design. Perhaps you may have imagined that +women can only conceal their faults, but they sometimes go much +farther, sir, and I am an instance. They even disguise their virtues, +and since the word has escaped me, I am tempted, at the risk of +wearying you, to explain by what strange gradation I reached that +point. + +"During my married life I lived retired from the world. You knew the +Count and his taste for solitude. When I became a widow, there was the +question of returning to society, and my embarrassment as to how I was +to present myself was not small. I interrogated my own heart; in vain +I sought to hide it from my own knowledge, I had a strong taste for +the pleasures of society; but at the same time I was determined to add +to it purity of morals. But how to reconcile all this? It seemed to me +a difficult task to establish a system of conduct which, without +compromising me, would not at the same time deprive me of the +pleasures of life. + +"This is the way I reasoned: Destined to live among men, formed to +please them, and to share in their happiness, we are obliged to suffer +from their caprices, and above all fear their malignity. It seems that +they have no other object in our education than that of fitting us for +love, indeed, it is the only passion permitted us, and by a strange +and cruel contrariety, they have left us only one glory to obtain, +which is that of gaining a victory over the very inclination imposed +upon us. I therefore endeavored to ascertain the best means of +reconciling in use and custom, two such glaring extremes, and I found +predicaments on all sides. + +"We are, I said to myself, simple enough when we enter society, to +imagine that the greatest happiness of a woman should be to love and +be loved. We then are under the impression that love is based on +esteem, upheld by the knowledge of amiable qualities, purified by +delicacy of sentiment, divested of all the insipidities which +disfigure it, in a word, fostered by confidence and the effusions of +the heart. But unfortunately, a sentiment so flattering for a woman +without experience, is everything less than that in practice. She is +always disabused when too late. + +"I was so good in the beginning as to be scandalized at two +imperfections I perceived in men, their inconstancy and their +untruthfulness. The reflections I made on the first of these defects, +led me to the opinion that they were more unfortunate than guilty. +From the manner in which the human heart is constituted, is it +possible for it to be occupied with only one object? No, but does the +treachery of men deserve the same indulgence? Most men attack a +woman's virtue in cold blood, in the design to use her for their +amusement, to sacrifice her to their vanity, to fill a void in an idle +life, or to acquire a sort of reputation based upon the loss of ours. +There is a large number of men in this class. How to distinguish true +lovers? They all look alike on the surface, and the man who pretends +to be amorous, is often more seductive than one who really is. + +"We are, moreover, dupes enough to make love a capital affair. You +men, on the contrary, consider it merely a play; we rarely surrender +to it without an inclination for the person of the lover; you are +coarse enough to yield to it without taste. Constancy with us is a +duty; you give way to the slightest distaste without scruple. You are +scarcely decent in leaving a mistress, the possession of whom, six +months before, was your glory and happiness. She may consider herself +well off if she is not punished by the most cruel indiscretions. + +"Hence I regarded things from their tragical side, and said to myself: +'If love draws with it so many misfortunes, a woman who cherishes her +peace of mind and reputation, should never love.' However, everything +tells me that we have a heart, that this heart is made for love, and +that love is involuntary. Why, then, venture to destroy an inclination +that is part of our being? Would it not be wiser to rectify it? Let us +see how it will be possible to succeed in such an enterprise. + +"What is a dangerous love? I have observed that kind of love. It is a +love which occupies the whole soul to the exclusion of every other +sentiment, and which impels us to sacrifice everything to the object +loved. + +"What characters are susceptible of such a sentiment? They are the +most solid, those who show little on the outside, those who unite +reason with an elevated nobility of character in their fashion of +thinking. + +"Finally, who are the men the most reasonable for women of that kind? +It is those who possess just sufficient brilliant qualities to fix a +value on their essential merit. It must be confessed, though, that +such men are not good companions for women who think. It is true, +they are rare at present, and there has never been a period so +favorable as this to guarantee us against great passions, but +misfortune will have it that we meet one of them in the crowd. + +"The moralists pretend that every woman possesses a fund of +sensibility destined to be applied to some object or another. A +sensible woman is not affected by the thousand trifling advantages so +agreeable to men in ordinary women. When she meets an object worthy of +her attention, it is quite natural that she should estimate the value +of it; her affection is measured according to her lights, she can not +go half way. It is these characters that should not be imitated, and +all acquaintance with the men of whom I have just been speaking, +should be avoided if a woman values her peace of mind. Let us create a +character which can procure for us two advantages at one and the same +time: One to guard us from immoderate impressions; the other to ward +off men who cause them. Let us give them an outside which will at +least prevent them from displaying qualities they do not possess. Let +us force them to please us by their frivolity, by their absurdities. +However much they may practice affectation, their visible faults would +furnish us with weapons against them. What happy state can a woman +occupy to procure such safeguards? It is undoubtedly that of a +professional society woman. + +"You are doubtless astonished at the strange conclusion to which my +serious reasoning has led me. You will be still more astonished when +you shall have heard the logic I employ to prove that I am right: +listen to the end. I know the justice of your mind, and I am not +lacking in it, however frivolous I may appear to be, and you will +finish by being of my opinion. + +"Do you believe that the outward appearance of virtue guarantees the +heart against the assaults of love? A poor resource. When a woman +descends to a weakness, is not her humiliation proportionately as +great as the esteem she hoped to secure? The brighter her virtue, the +easier mark for malice. + +"What is the world's idea of a virtuous woman? Are not men so unjust +as to believe that the wisest woman is she who best conceals her +weakness; or who, by a forced retreat puts herself beyond the +possibility of having any? Rather than accord us a single perfection, +they carry wickedness to the point of attributing to us a perpetual +state of violence, every time we undertake to resist their advances. +One of our friends said: 'There is not an honest woman who is not +tired of being so.' And what recompense do they offer us for the cruel +torments to which they have condemned us? Do they raise up an altar to +our heroism? No! The most honest woman, they say, is she who is not +talked about, that is to say, a perfect indifference on the part of a +woman, a general oblivion is the price of our virtue. Must women not +have much of it to preserve it at such a price? Who would not be +tempted to abandon it? But there are grave matters which can not be +overlooked. + +"Dishonor closely follows upon weakness. Old age is dreadful in +itself, what must it not be when it is passed in remorse? I feel the +necessity of avoiding such a misfortune. I calculated at first that I +could not succeed in, doing so, without condemning myself to a life of +austerity, and I had not the courage to undertake it. But it gradually +dawned upon me that the condition of a society woman was alone +competent to reconcile virtue with pleasure. From the smile on your +face, I suspect such an idea appears to be a paradox to you. But it is +more reasonable than you imagine. + +"Tell me this: Is a society woman obliged to have an attachment? Is +she not exempt from tenderness? It is sufficient for her to be amiable +and courteous, everything on the surface. As soon as she becomes +expert in the role she has undertaken, then, the only mistrust the +world has of her is that she has no heart. A fine figure, haughty +airs, caprices, fashionable jargon, fantasies, and fads, that is all +that is required of her. She can be essentially virtuous with +impunity. Does any one presume to make advances? If he meet with +resistance he quickly gives over worrying her, he thinks her heart is +already captured, and he patiently awaits his turn. His perseverance +would be out of place, for she would notify a man who failed to pay +her deference, that it was owing to arrangements made before he +offered himself. In this way a woman is protected by the bad opinion +had of her. + +"I read in your eyes that you are about to say to me: The state of a +professional society woman may injure my reputation, and plunge me +into difficulties I seek to avoid. Is not that your thought? But do +you not know, Monsieur, that the most austere conduct does not guard a +woman from the shafts of malice? The opinion men give of women's +reputation, and the good and wrong ideas they acquire of us are always +equally false. It is prejudice, it is a species of fatality which +governs their judgment, so that our glory depends less upon a real +virtue than upon auspicious circumstances. The hope of filling an +honorable place in their imagination, ought not to be the sole +incentive to the practice of virtue, it should be the desire to have a +good opinion of ourselves, and to be able to say, whatever may be the +opinion of the public: I have nothing with which to reproach myself. +But, what matters it to what we owe our virtue, provided we have it? + +"I was therefore convinced that I could not do better, when I +reappeared in the world, than to don the mask I deemed the most +favorable to my peace of mind and to my glory. I became closely +attached to the friend who aided me with her counsel. She is the +Marquise de ----, a relative. Our sentiments were in perfect accord. +We frequented the same society. Charity for our neighbors was truly +not our favorite virtue. We made our appearance in a social circle as +into a ball room, where we were the only masks. We indulged in all +sorts of follies, we goaded the absurd into showing themselves in +their true character. After having amused ourselves in this comedy, +we had not yet reached the limit of our pleasure, it was renewed in +private interviews. How absolutely idiotic the women appeared to us, +and the men, how vacuous, fatuous, and impertinent! If we found any +who could inspire fear in a woman's heart, that is, esteem, we broke +their heart by our airs, by affecting utter indifference for them, and +by the allurements we heaped upon those who deserved them the least. +By force of our experience, we came near believing, that in order to +be virtuous, it was necessary to frequent bad company. + +"This course of conduct guaranteed us for a long time against the +snares of love, and saved us from the dreadful weariness a sad and +more mournful virtue would have spread over our lives. Frivolous, +imperious, bold, even coquettish if you will, in the presence of men, +but solid, reasonable, and virtuous in our own eyes, we were happy in +this character. We never met a man we were afraid of. Those who might +have been redoubtable, were obliged to make themselves ridiculous +before being permitted to enjoy our society. + +"But what finally led me to doubt the truth of my principles, is they +did not always guard me from the dangers I wished to avoid. I have +learned through my own experience, that love is a traitor with whom it +will not do to trifle. I do not know by what fatality, the Marquis de +Sévigné was able to render my projects futile. In spite of all my +precautions he has found the way to my heart. However much I resisted +him I was impelled to love him, and my reason is of no more use to me +except to justify in my own eyes the inclination I feel for him. I +would be happy if he never gave me an occasion to change my +sentiments. I have been unable to hide from him my true thoughts, I +was afraid at first that he might deem me actually as ridiculous as I +seemed to be. And when my sincerity shall render me less amiable in +his eyes (for I know that frivolity captures men more than real +merit), I wish to show myself to him in my true colors. I should blush +to owe nothing to his heart but a perpetual lie of my whole being." + +"I am still less surprised, Madame," said Monsieur de la Sablière, "at +the novelty of your project, than at the skill with which you have +succeeded in rendering such a singular idea plausible. Permit me to +say, that it is not possible to go astray with more spirit. Have you +experimented with everybody according to your system? Men go a long +way around to avoid the beaten track, but they all fall over the same +obstacles. To make use of the privilege you granted me to tell you +plainly my thought, believe me, Countess, that the only way for you to +preserve your peace of mind is to resume openly your position as a +reasonable woman. There is nothing to be gained by compounding with +virtue." + +When I heard the conversation taking that complexion, I knew it would +soon finish, and I therefore promptly withdrew, and could not think of +anything but satisfying your curiosity. I am tired of writing. In two +days I shall return to Paris. + + + + +XXXII + +The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart + + +Well, Marquis, here I am back again, but the news I bring you may not +be altogether to your liking. You have never had so fine an occasion +to charge women with caprice. I wrote you the last time to tell you +that you were loved, to-day I write just the contrary. + +A strange resolution has been taken against you; tremble, 'tis a thing +settled; the Countess purposes loving you at her ease, and without its +costing her any disturbance of her peace of mind. She has seen the +consequences of a passion similar to yours, and she can not face it +without dismay. She intends, therefore, to arrest its progress. Do not +let the proofs she has given you reassure you. You men imagine that as +soon as a woman has confessed her love she can never more break her +chains; undeceive yourself. The Countess is much more reasonable on +your account than I thought, and I do not hide from you the fact that +a portion of her firmness is due to my advice. You need not rely any +more on my letters, and you do not require any help from them to +understand women. + +I sometimes regret that I have furnished you weapons against my sex, +without them would you ever have been able to touch the heart of the +Countess? I must avow that I have judged women with too much rigor, +and you now see me ready to make them a reparation. I know it now, +there are more stable and essentially virtuous women than I had +thought. + +What a stock of reason! What a combination of all the estimable +qualities in our friend! No, Marquis, I could no longer withhold from +her the sentiment of my most tender esteem, and without consulting +your interests, I have united with her against you. You will murmur at +this, but the confidence she has given me, does it not demand this +return on my part? I will not hide from you any of my wickedness; I +have carried malice to the point of instructing her in the advantages +you might draw from everything I have written you about women. + +"I feel," she said to me, "how redoubtable is a lover who combines +with so much knowledge of the heart, the talent to express himself in +such noble and delicate language. What advantages can he not have of +women who reason? I have remarked it, it is by his powers of reasoning +that he has overcome them. He possesses the art of employing the +intelligence he finds in a woman to justify, in the eyes of his +reason, the errors into which he draws her. Besides, a woman in love +thinks she is obliged to proportion her sacrifices to the good +qualities of the man she loves. To an ordinary man, a weakness is a +weakness, he blushes at it; to a man of intelligence, it is a tribute +paid to his merits, it is even a proof of our discernment; he +eulogizes our good taste and takes the credit of it. It is thus by +turning it to the profit of the vanity which he rescues from virtue, +that this enchanter hides from our eyes the grades of our weakness." + +Such are at present, Marquis, the sentiments of the Countess, and I am +not sure if they leave you much to hope for. I do not ignore the fact +that it might have doubtless been better to carry out the project we +have in view without giving you any information concerning it. That +was our first intention; but could I in conscience secretly work +against you? Would it not have been to betray you? Moreover, by taking +that course, we should have appeared to be afraid of you, and hence we +found courage to put you in possession of all we expect to do to +resist you. + +Come, now, Marquis, our desire to see you really makes us impatient. +Would you know the reason? It is because we expect you without fearing +you. Remember that you have not now a weak loving woman to fight +against, she would be too feeble an adversary, her courage might give +out; it is I, now, it is a woman of cold blood, who fancies herself +interested in saving the reason of her friend from being wrecked. Yes, +I will penetrate to the bottom of your heart; I will read there your +perverse designs; I will forestall them; I will render all the +artifices of your malice innocuous. + +You may accuse me of treason as much as you please, but come to-night, +and I will convince you that my conduct is conformable to the most +exact equity. While your inexperience needed enlightenment, +assistance, encouragement, my zeal in your cause urged me to sacrifice +everything in your interests. Every advantage was then on the side of +the Countess. But now there is a different face on things; all her +pride to-day, is barely strong enough to resist you. Formerly, her +indifference was in her favor, and, what was worth still more, your +lack of skill; to-day you have the experience, and she has her reason +the less. + +After that, to combine with you against her, to betray the confidence +she reposes in me, to refuse her the succor she has the right to +expect from me, if you are sincere, you will avow it yourself, would +be a crying wrong. Henceforth, I purpose to repair the evil I have +done in revealing our secrets, by initiating you into our mysteries. I +do not know why, but the pleasure I feel in crossing you, appears to +be working in my favor, and you know how far my rights oven you +extend. My sentiments will always be the same, and, on your part +without doubt, you are too equitable to diminish your esteem for me, +because of anything I may have done in favor of a friend. + +By and by, then, at the Countess'. + + + + +XXXIII + +A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with Love + + +What, Marquis, afraid of two women? You already despair of your +affairs, because they oppose your success, and you are ready to +abandon the game? Dear me, I thought you had more courage. It is true +that the firmness of the Countess astonishes even me, but I do not +understand how she could hold out against your ardor for an entire +evening. I never saw you so seductive, and she has just confessed to +me that you were never so redoubtable. Now I can respond for her, +since her courage did not fail her on an occasion of so much peril. I +saw still farther, and I judge from her well sustained ironical +conversation, that she is only moderately smitten. A woman really +wounded by the shaft of love would not have played with sentiment in +such a flippant manner. + +This gives birth to a strange idea. It would be very delightful, if in +a joking way, we should discover that your tender Adelaide does not +love you up to a certain point. What a blow that would be to your +vanity! But you would quickly seek revenge. You might certainly find +beauties ready to console you for your loss. How often has vexation +made you say: "What is a woman's heart? Can any one give me a +definition of it?" + +However, do you know that I am tempted to find fault with you, and if +you take this too much to heart, I do not know what I would not do to +soften the situation. But I know you are strong minded. Your first +feelings of displeasure past, you will soon see that the best thing +you can do is to come down to the quality of friend, a position which +we have so generously offered you. You ought to consider yourself very +fortunate, your dismissal might be made absolute. But do not make this +out to be much of a victory, you will be more harshly treated if we +consider you more to be feared. + +Adieu, Marquis. The Countess, who is sitting at the head of my bed, +sends you a thousand tender things. She is edified by the discretion +with which you have treated us; not to insist when two ladies seem to +be so contrary to you, that is the height of gallantry. So much +modesty will certainly disarm them, and may some day move them to +pity. Hope, that is permitted you. + + +From the Countess. + +Although you may be inspired by the most flattering hopes, Marquis, I +will add a few words to this letter. I have not read it, but I suspect +that it refers to me. I wish, however, to write you with my own hand +that we shall be alone here all day. I wish to tell you that I love +you moderately well at present, but that I have the greatest desire +in the world not to love you at all. However, if you deem it advisable +to come and trouble our little party, it gives me pleasure to warn you +that your heart will be exposed to the greatest danger. I am told that +I am handsomer to-day than you have ever found me to be, and I never +felt more in the humor to treat you badly. + + + + +XXXIV + +Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder + + +All this, Marquis, begins to pass the bounds of pleasantry. Explain +yourself, I pray you. Did you pretend to speak seriously in your +letter, in making it understood that I was acting on this occasion +through jealousy, and that I was trying to separate you and the +Countess to profit by it myself? + +You are either the wickedest of men or the most adroit; the wickedest +if you ever could suspect me guilty of such baseness; the most adroit, +if you have thrown out that idea to make my friend suspect me. I see +very clearly in all this, that the alternative is equally injurious to +me, since the Countess has taken the matter to heart. I find that my +relations with her are very embarrassing. Criminal that you are, how +well you know your ascendency over her heart! You could not better +attack her than by the appearance of indifference you affect. Not +deign to answer my last letter, not come to the rendezvous given you, +remain away from us three days, and after all that, to write us the +coldest letter possible, oh, I confess it frankly, that is to act like +a perfect man; that is what I call a master stroke, and the most +complete success has responded to your hope. The Countess has not +been able to stand against so much coolness. The fear that this +indifference may become real has caused her a mortal anxiety. + +Great Heavens! What is the most reasonable woman when love has turned +her head? Why were you not the witness of the reproaches I have just +heard? How is that? To hear the Countess to-day, gave me an injurious +opinion of her virtue, a false idea of your pretensions, and I +considered your designs criminal because you took so much pleasure in +punishing her. + +I am hard, unjust, cruel, I can not remember all the epithets with +which I was covered. What outbursts! Oh, I protest to you, this will +be the last storm I will undergo for being mixed up in your affairs, +and I very cordially renounce the confidence with which you have both +honored me. Advisers do not play a very agreeable part in such cases, +so it seems to me, always charged with what is disagreeable in +quarrels, and the lovers only profit by a reconciliation. + +However, after due reflection, I think I should be very silly to take +offence at this. You are two children whose follies will amuse me, I +ought to look upon them with the eye of a philosopher, and finish by +being the friend of both. Come then, at once, and assure me if that +resolution will suit you. Now, do not play the petty cruel role any +more. Come and make peace. These poor children; one of them has such +innocent motives, the other is so sure of her virtue, that to stand in +the way of their inclination, is surely to afflict them without +reason. + + + + +XXXV + +The Heart Should be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano + + +I am beginning to understand, Marquis, that the only way to live with +the most reasonable woman, is never to meddle with her heart affairs. +I have, therefore, made up my mind. Henceforward I shall never mention +your name to the Countess unless she insists upon my doing so; I do +not like bickerings. + +But this resolution will change nothing of my sentiments for you, nor +my friendship for her. And, although I still stand her friend, I shall +not scruple to make use of my friendship, so far as you are concerned, +as I have in the past I shall continue, since you so wish it, to give +you my ideas on the situations in which you may become involved, on +condition, however, that you permit me sometimes to laugh at your +expense, a liberty I shall not take to-day, because if the Countess +follows up the plan she has formed, that is, if she persists in +refusing to see you alone, I do not see that your affairs will advance +very rapidly. She remembers what I told her, she knows her heart, and +has reason to fear it. + +It is only an imprudent woman who relies upon her own strength, and +exposes herself without anxiety to the advances of the man she loves. +The agitation which animates him, the fire with which his whole person +appears to be burning, excites our senses, fires our imagination, +appeals to our desires. I said to the Countess one day: "We resemble +your clavecin; however well disposed it may be to respond to the hand +which should play upon it, until it feels the impression of that hand, +it remains silent; touch its keys, and sounds are heard." Finish the +parallel, and draw your conclusions. + +But after all, why should you complain, Monsieur, the metaphysician? +To see the Countess, hear the soft tones of her voice, render her +little attentions, carry the delicacy of sentiment beyond the range of +mortal vision, feel edified at her discourses on virtue, are not these +supreme felicity for you? Leave for earthy souls the gross sentiments +which are beginning to develop in you. To look at you to-day, it might +be said that I was not so far out of the way when I declared love to +be the work of the senses. Your own experience will compel you to avow +that I had some good reason for saying so, for which I am not at all +sorry. Consider yourself punished for your injustice. Adieu. + +Your old rival, the Chevalier, has revenged himself for the rigors of +the Countess, by tying himself up with the Marquise, her relative. +This choice is assuredly a eulogy on his good taste, they are made for +each other. I shall be very much charmed to know whither their fine +passion will lead them. + + + + +XXXVI + +Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women + + +Do you think, Marquis, that I have not felt all the sarcasm you have +deigned to turn against me on account of my pretended reconciliation +with the Countess? Know this, sir, that we have never been at outs. + +It is true, she begged me to forget her vivacity, which she claimed +was due to her love, and she insisted that I should continue to give +her good counsel. But Good Heavens! Of what use are my counsels except +to provide you with an additional triumph? The best advice I can give +her is to break off her relations with you, for whatever confidence +she may have in her pride, her only preservative against you is +flight. She believes, for example, that she used her reason with good +effect in the conversation you have related to me. But every +reasonable woman does not fail to use the same language as soon as a +lover shows her some respectful pretensions. + +"I only want your heart," they say, "your sentiments, your esteem is +all I desire. Alas! you will find only too many women with so little +delicacy as to believe themselves very happy in accepting what I +refuse. I will never envy them a happiness of that kind." + +Be on your guard, Marquis, and do not openly combat such fine +sentiments; to doubt a woman's sincerity on such occasions, is to do +more than offend them, it is to be maladroit. You must applaud their +mistaken idea if you would profit by it. They wish to appear +high-minded, and sensible only of the pleasures of the soul, it is +their system, their esprit du corps. If some women are in good faith +on this point, how many are there who treat it as an illusion and wish +to impose it upon you? + +But whatever may be the reason which impels them to put you on a false +scent, ought you not to be delighted that they are willing to take the +trouble to deceive you? What obligations are you not under? They give +in this manner, a high value to those who, without it, would be very +undesirable. Admire our strategy when we feign indifference to what +you call the pleasures of love, pretending even to be far removed from +its sweetness, we augment the grandeur of the sacrifice we make for +you, by it, we even inspire the gratitude of the authors of the very +benefits we receive from them, you are satisfied with the good you do +us. + +And since it was said that we make it a duty to deceive you, what +obligation do you not owe us? We have chosen the most obliging way to +do it. You are the first to gain by this deceit, for we can not +multiply obstacles without enhancing the price of your victory. +Troubles, cares, are not these the money with which lovers pay for +their pleasures? What a satisfaction for your vanity to be able to +say within yourselves: "This woman, so refined, so insensible to the +impressions of the senses; this woman who fears disdain so much, comes +to me, nevertheless, and sacrifices her repugnance, her fears, her +pride? My own merit, the charms of my person, my skill, have +surmounted invincible objects for something quite different. How +satisfied I am with my prowess!" + +If women acted in good faith, if they were in as much haste to show +you their desires as you are to penetrate them, you could not talk +that way. How many pleasures lost! But you can not impute wrong to +this artifice, it gives birth to so many advantages. Pretend to be +deceived, and it will become a pleasure to you. + +If the Countess knew what I have written, how she would reproach me! + + + + +XXXVII + +The Allurements of Stage Women + + +I know too well that a man in your position, particularly a military +man, is often exposed to bad company, consequently, he is attracted by +the divinities you mention. In spite of that you are not deceived, and +I would probably censure you, if I were not so sure, that, in the +present state of your heart, the heroines of the theater are not +dangerous to you. But the Countess is less indulgent, you say. Her +jealousy does not astonish me, she confirms my ideas concerning female +metaphysicians. I know how much credit is due their sincerity. Her +complaints are very singular, for, what is she deprived of? The women +in question are nothing but women of sentiment, and it is to sentiment +that the Countess is attached. + +How little women are in accord! They pretend to despise women of the +stage; they fear them too much to despise them. But after all, are +they wrong to consider them rivals? Are you not more captivated with +their free and easy style, than with that of a sensible woman who has +nothing to offer but order, decency, and uniformity? With the former, +men are at their ease, they appear to be in their element; with the +latter, men are kept within bounds, obliged to stand on their +dignity, and to be very circumspect. From the portrait of several of +them, I should judge that there are some of them very capable of +making many men unfaithful to the most beloved mistress. But with a +sensible man, this infidelity, if it be one, can not be of long +duration. These women may create a sudden, lively desire, but never a +veritable passion. + +The fairies of the operatic stage would be too dangerous, if they had +the wit or the humor always to amuse you as much as they do the first +time you are thrown on their company. However little jargon, habits, +and decency they have on the surface, it is possible that they may +please you at first. You men have so little refinement sometimes! The +freedom of their conversation, the vivacity of their sallies of +alleged wit, their giddy ways, all this affords you a situation that +charms; a lively and silly joy seizes upon you, the hours you pass +with them seem to be only moments. But happily for you, they seldom +possess sufficient resources to maintain a role so amusing. Inasmuch +as they lack education and culture, they soon travel around the small +circle of their accomplishments. They feed you with the same +pleasantries, the same stories, the same antics, and it is seldom one +laughs twice at the same thing when one has no esteem for the fun +maker. + +The Countess need not worry, for I know you well enough to assure her +that it is not that class of women she may apprehend, there are in the +world, others more redoubtable, they are the "gallant women," those +equivocal women in society. They occupy a middle position between good +women and those I have been talking about; they associate with the +former and are not different from the latter except on the surface. +More voluptuous than tender, they seduce by lending to the least +refined sentiments an air of passion which is mistaken for love. They +understand how to convey an impression of tenderness to what is only a +taste for pleasure. They make you believe that it is by choice, by a +knowledge of your merit that they yield. If you do not know them to be +gallant women, the shade of difference which distinguishes the true +motives which actuates them, from the sensibility of the heart, is +impossible to seize. You accept for excess of passion what is only an +intoxication of the senses. You imagine you are loved because you are +lovable, but it is only because you are a man. + +These are the women I should fear if I were in the place of the +Countess. The financial woman who has lately appeared in society +belongs to this class, but I have already warned the Countess. + +I call to mind, here, that in your preceding letter, you mentioned the +allurements which the Countess thought proper to manifest? She was +right in taking umbrage. Your passion for her is truly too great to +prevent you from sacrificing everything, but I fear you will not +always be so honest. + +Madame de ---- possesses bloom and cheerfulness; she is at an age when +women assume charge of young men who desire to be fitted for society, +and to learn their first lessons in gallantry. The interesting and +affectionate disposition you find in her will have its effect, but be +careful, it is I who warn you. Although I despise such women, it +happens that they have the power to create attachments; they often +find the secret of making you commit more follies than any of the +other women. + + + + +XXXVIII + +Varieties of Resistance are Essential + + +I hasten to tell you, Marquis, that I have just maintained a thesis +against Monsieur de la Bruyère. No doubt you admire my temerity? +However it is true. He pretends that Corneille described men as they +should be, and Racine as they are; I held the contrary. We had some +illustrious spectators of the dispute, and I ought to be very proud of +the suffrages in my favor. + +But all the details would be too long to write you, so come and we +will talk them over. Every one has his own fashion of describing +things, I have mine, I know. I represent women as they are, and I am +very sorry not to be able to represent them as they should be. Now I +shall reply to your letter. + +The species of languor which affects you does not surprise me. The +malady which afflicts the Marquise has deprived you of the pleasure of +seeing the Countess, and your heart remaining in the same condition +for three days, it is not surprising that ennui should have gained +upon it. Neither does your present indifference for the Countess alarm +me. In the greatest passions there are always moments of lukewarmness, +which astonish the hearts that feel the sensation. Whether the heart, +constantly agitated by the same emotions, finally tires, or whether it +is absolutely impossible for it to be always employed with the same +object, there are moments of indifference, the cause of which can not +be ascertained. The livelier the emotions of the heart, the more +profound the calm that is sure to follow, and it is this calm that is +always more fateful to the object loved than storm and agitation. Love +is extinguished by a resistance too severe or constant. But an +intelligent woman goes beyond that, she varies her manner of +resisting; this is the sublimity of the art. + +Now, with the Countess, the duties of friendship are preferable to the +claims of love, and that is another reason for your indifference +toward her. Love is a jealous and tyrannical sentiment, which is never +satiated until the object loved has sacrificed upon its altar all +desires and passions. You do nothing for it unless you do everything. +Whenever you prefer duty, friendship, etc., it claims the right to +complain. It demands revenge. The small courtesies you deemed it +necessary to show Madame de ---- are proofs of it. I would have much +preferred, though, you had not carried them so far as accompanying her +home. The length of time you passed in her company, the pleasure you +experienced in conversing with her, the questions she put to you on +the state of your heart, all goes to prove the truth of what I said in +my last letter. It is vain for you to protest that you came away more +amorous than ever of the Countess, your embarrassment when she +inquired whether you had remained long with your "fermière générale," +the attempt you made to deceive her by an evasive answer, the extreme +care you took to disarm her slightest suspicion, are indications to me +that you are far more guilty than you pretend, or than you are aware +of yourself. + +The Countess suffers the consequences of all that. Do you not see how +she affects to rouse your jealousy by praising the Chevalier, your +ancient rival? For once, I can assure you that you will not so soon be +affected by the languors we mentioned a short time ago. Jealousy will +give you something to think about. Do you count for nothing, the +sufferings of the Marquise? You will soon see her, the ravages of the +smallpox will not alone disfigure her face, for her disposition will +be very different, as soon as she learns the extent of her misfortune. +How I pity her; how I pity other women! With what cordiality she will +hate them and tear them to tatters! The Countess is her best friend, +will she be so very long? She is so handsome, her complexion casts the +others in the shade. What storms I foresee! + +I had forgotten to quarrel with you about your treatment of me. You +have been so indiscreet as to show my recent letters to M. de la +Rochefoucauld. I will cease writing you if you continue to divulge my +secret. I am willing to talk personally with him about my ideas, but I +am far from flattering myself that I write well enough to withstand +the criticism of a reader like him. + + + + +XXXIX + +The True Value of Compliments Among Women + + +The marks left by the smallpox on the Marquise's face have set her +wild. Her resolution not to show herself for a long time does not +surprise me. How could she appear in public in such a state? If the +accident which humiliates her had not happened, how she would have +made the poor Chevalier suffer! Does not this prove that female virtue +depends upon circumstances, and diminishes with pride? + +How I fear a similar example in the case of the Countess! Nothing is +more dangerous for a woman than the weaknesses of her friend; love, +already too seductive in itself, becomes more so through the contagion +of example, if I may so speak; it is not only in our heart that it +gathers strength; it acquires new weapons against reason from its +environment. A woman who has fallen under its ban, deems herself +interested, for her own justification, in conducting her friend to the +edge of the same precipice, and I am not, therefore, surprised at what +the Marquise says in your favor. Up to the present moment they have +been guided by the same principles; what a shame, then, for her, that +the Countess could not have been guaranteed against the effects of it! +Now, the Marquise has a strong reason the more for contributing to +the defeat of her friend; she has become positively ugly, and +consequently obliged to be more complaisant in retaining a lover. Will +she suffer another woman to keep hers at a less cost? That would be to +recognize too humiliating a superiority, and I can assure you that she +will do the most singular things to bring her amiable widower up to +the point. + +If she succeed, how much I fear everything will be changed! To have +been as beautiful as another woman, and to be so no longer, although +she embellishes herself every day, and to suffer her presence every +day, is, I vow, an effort beyond the strength of the most reasonable +woman, greater than the most determined philosophy. Among women +friendship ceases where rivalry begins. By rivalry, I mean that of +beauty only, it would be too much to add that of sentiment. + +I foresee this with regret, but it is my duty to forewarn you. +Whatever precautions the Countess may take to control the amour propre +of the Marquise, she will never make anything else out of her than an +ingrate. I do not know by what fatality, everything a beautiful woman +tells one who is no longer beautiful, assumes in the mouth, an +impression of a commiseration which breaks down the most carefully +devised management, and humiliates her whom it is thought to console. +The more a woman strives to efface the superiority she possesses over +an unfortunate sister woman, the more she makes that superiority +apparent, until the latter reaches the opinion that it is only +through generosity that she is permitted to occupy the subordinate +position left her. + +You may depend upon it, Marquis, that women are never misled when it +comes to mutual praise; they fully appreciate the eulogies +interchanged among themselves; and as they speak without sincerity, so +they listen with little gratitude. And although she who speaks, in +praising the beauty of another, may do so in good faith, she who +listens to the eulogy, considers less what the other says than her +style of beauty. Is she ugly? We believe and love her, but if she be +as handsome as we, we thank her coldly and disdain her; handsomer, we +hate her more than before she spoke. + +You must understand this, Marquis, that as much as two beautiful women +may have something between them to explain, it is impossible for them +to form a solid friendship. Can two merchants who have the same goods +to sell become good neighbors? Men do not penetrate the true cause of +the lack of cordiality among women. Those who are the most intimate +friends often quarrel over nothing, but do you suppose this "nothing" +is the real occasion of their quarrel? It is only the pretext. We hide +the motive of our actions when to reveal it would be a humiliation. We +do not care to make public the fact that it is jealousy for the beauty +of our friend that is the real cause, to give that as the reason for +estrangement would be to charge us with envy, a pleasure one woman +will not give another; she prefers injustice. Whenever it happens +that two beautiful women are so happy as to find a pretext to get rid +of each other, they seize upon it with vivacity, and hate each other +with a cordiality which proves how much they loved each other before +the rupture. + +Well, Marquis, am I talking to you with sufficient frankness? You see +to what lengths my sincerity goes. I try to give you just ideas of +everything, even at my own expense, for I am assuredly not more exempt +than another woman from the faults I sometimes criticise. But as I am +sure that what passes between us will be buried in oblivion, I do not +fear embroiling myself in a quarrel with all my sex, they might, +perhaps, claim the right to blame my ingenuity. + +But the Countess is above all such petty things, she agrees, however, +with everything I have just said. Are there many women like her? + + + + +XL + +Oratory and Fine Phrases do Not Breed Love + + +The example of the Marquise has not yet had any effect on the heart of +her friend. It appears, on the contrary, that she is more on guard +against you, and that you have drawn upon yourself her reproaches +through some slight favor you have deprived her of. + +I have been thinking that she would not fail on this occasion to +recall to your recollection, the protestations of respect and +disinterestedness you made when you declared your passion for her. It +is customary in similar cases. But what seems strange about it is, +that the same eagerness that a woman accepts as a proof of disrespect, +before she is in perfect accord with her lover, becomes, in her +imagination, a proof of love and esteem, as soon as they meet on a +common ground. + +Listen to married women, and to all those who, being unmarried, permit +the same prerogatives; hear them, I say, in their secret complaints +against unfaithful husbands and cooling lovers. They are despised, and +that is the sole reason they can imagine. But with us, what they +consider a mark of esteem and sincerity, is it anything else than the +contrary? I told you some time ago, that women themselves, when they +are acting in good faith, go farther than men in making love consist +in an effervescence of the blood. Study a lover at the commencement of +her passion: with her, then, love is purely a metaphysical sentiment, +with which the senses have not the least relation. Similar to those +philosophers who, in the midst of grievous torments would not confess +that they were suffering pain, she is a martyr to her own system; but, +at last, while combatting this chimera, the poor thing becomes +affected by a change; her lover vainly repeats that love is a divine, +metaphysical sentiment, that it lives on fine phrases, on spiritual +discourses, that it would be degrading to mingle with it anything +material and human; he vainly, boasts of his respect and refinement. I +tell you, Marquis, on the part of all women, that such an orator will +never make his fortune. His respect will be taken as an insult, his +refinement for derision, and his fine discourses for ridiculous +pretexts. All the grace that will be accorded him, is that she will +find a pretext to quarrel with him because he has been less refined +with some other woman, and that he will be put to the sorrowful +necessity of displaying his high flown sentiments to his titular +mistress, and what is admirable about this is, that the excuse for it +arises out of the same principle. + +P.S.--You have so much deference for my demands! You not only show my +letters to M. de la Rochefoucauld, but you read them before the whole +assembly of my friends. It is true that the indulgence with which my +friends judge them, consoles me somewhat for your indiscretion, and I +see very well that the best thing for me to do is to continue on in my +own way as I have in the past. But, at least, be discreet when I +mention matters relating to the glory of the Countess; otherwise, no +letters. + + + + +XLI + +Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor + + +No, Marquis, I can not pardon in you the species of fury with which +you desire what you are pleased to call the "supreme happiness." How +blind you are, not to know that when you are sure of a woman's heart, +it is in your interests to enjoy her defeat a long time before it +becomes entire. Will you never understand, that of all there is good +on earth, it is the sweetness of love that must be used with the +greatest economy? + +If I were a man and were so fortunate as to have captured the heart of +a woman like the Countess, with what discretion I would use my +advantages? How many gradations there would be in the law I should +impose upon myself to overlook them successively and even leisurely? +Of how many amiable pleasures, unknown to men, would not I be the +creator? Like a miser, I would contemplate my treasure unceasingly, +learn its precious value, feel that in it consisted all my felicity, +base all my happiness upon the possession of it, reflect that it is +all mine, that I may dispose of it and yet maintain my resolution not +to deprive myself of its use. + +What a satisfaction to read in the eyes of an adorable woman the power +you have over her; to see her slightest acts give birth to an +impression of tenderness, whenever they relate to you; to hear her +voice soften when it is to you or of you she speaks; to enjoy her +confusion at your slightest eagerness, her anxiety at your most +innocent caresses? Is there a more delicious condition than that of a +lover who is sure of being loved, and can there be any sweeter than at +such moments? What a charm for a lover to be expected with an +impatience that is not concealed; to be received with an eagerness all +the more flattering from the effort made to hide the half of it? + +She dresses in a fashion to please; she assumes the deportment, the +style, the pose that may flatter her lover the most. In former times +women dressed to please in general, now their entire toilette is to +please men; for his sake she wears bangles, jewelry, ribbons, +bracelets, rings. He is the object of it all, the woman is transformed +into the man; it is he she loves in her own person. Can you find +anything in love more enchanting than the resistance of a woman who +implores you not to take advantage of her weakness? Is there anything, +in a word, more seductive than a voice almost stifled with emotion, +than a refusal for which she reproaches herself, and, the rigor of +which she attempts to soften by tender looks, before a complaint is +made? I can not conceive any. + +But it is certain that as soon as she yields to your eagerness, all +these pleasures weaken in proportion to the facility met. You alone +may prolong them, even increase them, by taking the time to know all +the sweetness and its taste. However, you are not satisfied unless +the possession, be entire, easy, and continuous. And after that, you +are surprised to find indifference, coolness, and inconstancy in your +heart. Have you not done everything to satiate your passion for the +beloved object? I have always contended that love never dies from +desire but often from indigestion, and I will sometime tell you in +confidence my feelings for Count ----. You will understand from that +how to manage a passion to render happiness enduring; you will see +whether I know the human heart and true felicity; you will learn from +my example that the economy of the sentiments is, in the question of +love, the only reasonable metaphysics. In fine, you will know how +little you understand your true interests in your conduct toward the +Countess. To interfere with your projects, I shall be with her as +often as it is possible. Now, do not be formal, and tell me that I am +an advocate on both sides; for I am persuaded that I am acting for the +good of the parties interested. + + + + +XLII + +Surface Indications in Women are Not Always Guides + + +What, I censure you, Marquis? I will take good care not to do so, I +assure you. You have not been willing to follow my advice, and hence, +I am not at all sorry for having ill-used you. You thought you had +nothing to do but to treat the Countess roughly. Her easy fashion of +treating love, her accessibility, her indulgence for your numerous +faults, the freedom with which she mocks the Platonicians, all this +encouraged you to hope that she was not very severe, but you have just +discovered your mistake. All this outward show was nothing but +deceitful and perfidious allurements. To take advantage thus of the +good faith of any one--I must confess that it is a conduct which cries +for vengeance; she deserves all the names you give her. + +But do you wish me to talk to you with my customary frankness? You +have fallen into an error which is common among men. They judge women +from the surface. They imagine that a woman whose virtue is not always +on the qui vive, will be easier to overcome than a prude; even +experience does not undeceive them. How often are they exposed to a +severity all the keener that it was unexpected? Their custom then, is +to accuse women of caprice and oddity; all of you use the same +language, and say: Why such equivocal conduct? When a woman has +decided to remain intractable, why surprise the credulity of a lover? +Why not possess an exterior conformable to her sentiments? In a word, +why permit a man to love her, when she does not care ever to see him +again? Is this not being odd and false? Is it not trifling with +sentiment? + +You are in error, gentlemen, you are imposing upon your vanity, it is +in vain you try to put us on a false scent, that, of itself, is +offensive, and you talk of sentiment as ennobling a thing that +resembles it very little. Are not you, yourselves, to blame if we +treat you thus? However little intelligence a woman may have, she +knows that the strongest tie to bind you to her is anticipation, +wherefore, you must let her lay the blame on you. If she were to arm +herself from the first with a severity that would indicate that she is +invincible, from that time, no lovers for her. What a solitude would +be hers, what shame even? For a woman of the most pronounced virtue is +no less sensible of the desire to please, she makes her glory consist +in securing homage and adoration. But without ignoring the fact that +those she expects attention from are induced to bestow them only for +reasons that wound her pride; unable to reform this defect, the only +part she can take is to use it to her advantage to keep them by her +side; she knows how to keep them, and not destroy the very hopes +which, however, she is determined never to gratify. With care and +skill she succeeds. Hence, as soon as a woman understands her real +interests she does not fail to say to herself what the Countess +confessed to me at our last interview: + +"I can well appreciate the 'I love you' of the men; I do not disguise +the fact that I know what it signifies at bottom, therefore upon me +rests the burden of being offended at hearing them; but when women +have penetrated their motives, they have need of their vanity to +disconcert their designs. Our anger, when they have offended us, is +not the best weapon to use in opposing them. Whoever must go outside +herself and become angry to resist them, exposes her weakness. A fine +irony, a piquant raillery, a humiliating coolness, these are what +discourage them. Never a quarrel with them, consequently no +reconciliation. What advantages does not this mode of procedure take +from them! + +"The prude, it is true, follows a quite different method. If she is +exposed to the least danger, she does not imagine herself to be +reasonable but in proportion to the resentment she experiences; but +upon whom does such conduct impose? Every man who knows the cards, +says to himself: 'I am ill used because the opportunity is +unfavorable. It is my awkwardness that is punished and not my +temerity. Another time, that will be well received which is a crime +to-day; this severity is a notice to redouble my effort, to merit more +indulgence and disarm pride; she wishes to be appeased.' And the only +means in such case to make her forget the offense is, that in making +an apology to repeat it a second time. With my recipe, I am certain +that a man will never reason that way. + +"The Marquis, for example, has sometimes permitted me to read in his +eyes his respectful intentions. I never knew but one way to punish +him; I have feigned not to understand him; insensibly, I have diverted +his mind to other objects. And this recipe has worked well up to the +moment I last saw him at my house. There was no way to dissimulate +with him; he wished to honor me with some familiarities, and I stopped +him immediately, but not in anger. I deemed it more prudent to arm +myself with reason than with anger. I appeared to be more afflicted +than irritated, and I am sure my grief touched his heart more than +bitter reproaches which might have alarmed him. He went away very much +dissatisfied; and just see what the heart is: at first, I was afraid I +had driven him away forever, I was tempted to reproach myself for my +cruelty, but, upon reflection, I felt reassured. Has severity ever +produced inconstancy?" + +To go on: We talked until we were out of breath, and everything the +Countess told me gave me to understand that she had made up her mind. +It will be in vain for you to cry out against her injustice, consider +her as odd and inhuman, she will not accept any of the sweetness of +love unless it costs her pride nothing, and I observe that she is +following that resolution with more firmness than I imagined her +capable of. The loss of your heart would undoubtedly be a misfortune +for which she could never be consoled. But, on the other hand, the +conditions you place upon your perseverance appear too hard to be +accepted; she is willing to compromise with you. She hopes to be able +to hold you without betraying her duty, a project worthy of her +courage, and I hope it will succeed better than the plan she had +formed to guarantee her heart against love. Let us await the outcome. + +Shall we see you to-morrow at Madame la Presidente's? If you should +desire to have an occasion to speak to her, I do not doubt that you +will make your peace. + + + + +XLIII + +Women Demand Respect + + +I should never have expected it, Marquis. What! My zeal in your behalf +has drawn your reproaches down upon me? I share with the Countess the +bad humor her severity has caused! you. Do you know? If what you say +were well founded, nothing could be more piquant for me than the +ironical tone in which you laud my principles. But to render me +responsible for your success, as you attempt, have you dared think for +an instant that my object in writing you, was ever for the purpose of +giving you lessons in seduction? Do you not perceive any difference in +teaching you to please, and exciting you toward seduction? I have told +you the motives which incline women to love, it is true, but have I +ever said that they were easier to vanquish? Have I ever told you to +attack them by sensuality, and that in attacking them to suppose them +without delicacy? I do not believe it. + +When your inexperience and your timidity might cause you to play the +role of a ridiculous personage among women, I explained the harm these +defects might cause you in the world. I advised you to have more +confidence, in order to lead you insensibly in the direction of that +noble and respectful boldness you should have when with women. But as +soon as I saw that your pretensions were going too far, and that they +might wound the reputation of the Countess, I did not dissimulate, I +took sides against you, and nothing was more reasonable, I had become +her friend. You see, then, how unjust you are in my regard, and you +are no less so in regard to her. You treat her as if she were an +equivocal character. According to your idea, she has neither decided +for nor against gallantry, and what you clearly see in her conduct is, +that she is a more logical coquette than other women. What an opinion! + +But there is much to pardon in your situation. However, a man without +prejudice, would see in the Countess only a lover as reasonable as she +is tender; a woman who, without having an ostentatious virtue, +nevertheless remains constantly attached to it; a woman, in a word, +who seeks in good faith the proper means of reconciling love and duty. +The difficulty in allying these two contraries is not slight, and it +is the source of the inequalities that wound you. Figure to yourself +the combats she must sustain, the revolutions she suffers, her +embarrassment in endeavoring to preserve a lover whom too uniform a +resistance might repel. If she were sure of keeping you by resisting +your advances; but you carry your odd conduct to the extent of leaving +her when her resistance is too prolonged. While praising our virtue, +you abandon us, and then, what shame for us! But since in both cases +it is not certain that her lover will be held, it is preferable to +accept the inconvenient rather than cause you to lose her heart and +her esteem. + +That is our advice, for the Countess and I think precisely alike on +the subject. Be more equitable, Marquis; complain of her rather than +criticise her. If her character were more decided, perhaps you would +be better satisfied with her; but, even in that case would you be +satisfied very long? I doubt it. + +Adieu. We count on seeing you this evening at Madame de La Fayette's, +and that you will prove more reasonable. The Abbé Gedoyn will be +presented me. The assembly will be brilliant, but you will doubtless +be bored, for you will not see the only object that can attract you, +and you will say of my apartment, what Malherbe so well says of the +garden of the Louvre: + +"Mais quoi que vous ayez, vous n'avez point Caliste, +Et moi je ne vois rien, quand je ne la vois pas." + +(Whatever you may have Caliste you have not got, +And I, I can see nothing when I see her not.) + + + + +XLIV + +Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's Opinion + + +A calm has succeeded the storm, Marquis, and I see by your letter that +you are more satisfied with the Countess and with yourself. How +powerful logic is coming from the mouth of a woman we adore! You see +how the conduct of our friend has produced an opposite effect from +that of the Marquise; the severity of the former increasing your +esteem and love for her and the kindness of the Marquise making an +unfaithful lover out of the Chevalier. So it generally happens among +men, ingratitude is commonly the price of benefits. This misfortune, +however, is not always beyond the reach of remedies, and in this +connection I wish to give you the contents of a letter I received from +Monsieur de Saint-Evremond a few days ago. You are not ignorant of the +intimate relations that have always existed between us. + +The young Count de ---- had just espoused Mademoiselle ----, of whom +he was passionately amorous. He complained one day to me that hymen +and the possession of the beloved object weakened every day, and often +destroyed the most tender love. We discussed the subject for a long +time, and as I happened to write to Saint-Evremond that day, I +submitted the question to him. This is his reply: + + +SAINT-EVREMOND TO MADEMOISELLE DE L'ENCLOS. + +My opinion is exactly in line with yours, Mademoiselle; it is not +always, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved object +which, of itself, destroys love, the true source of the +dissatisfaction that follows love is in the unintelligent manner of +economizing the sentiments, a possession too easy, complete, and +prolonged. + +When we have yielded to the transports of a passion without reserve, +the tremendous shock to the soul can not fail quickly to leave it in a +profound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms and +chills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calm +which follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equal +and more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. +Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desire +anything. You will find that your desires are nothing but curiosity, +and this curiosity, which is one of the forces of the heart, +satisfied, our desires vanish. Whoever, therefore, would hold a spouse +or a lover, should leave him something to be desired, something new +should be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, +procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I will +vouch for his perseverance in fidelity. + +I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat," is, in +an ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon the +lover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the cooling +of the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is due +to her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expended +in a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination she +had excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of her +lover, she becomes always the same statue; no variety to be hoped for, +and her lover knows it well. + +But in the woman I have in mind, it is the aurora of a lovelier day; +it is the beginning of the most satisfying pleasures. I understand by +effusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, +those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us the +certainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all the +esteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch when a +man of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which have always +been hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires who brings into +play all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; her +heart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far from +leading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. + +But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able to +control her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough +(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love with +prudence, with restraint, and modesty is for that reason the most +ingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to the +impetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in the +object loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That is +not love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover into +a spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve and +economy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, the +heart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. +If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will be +nothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive in +a lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, will +experience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity of +separating. + +To sum up; there is more intelligence required to love than is +generally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of the +fatal "yes," or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a woman +does not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, +desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches the +summit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care to +retain him, as he exhibited in overcoming her; the desire to keep him +should render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to a +high position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficient to +make a man amorous; to render him constant, something more is +necessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal of +intelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and fickleness. +Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become too +tender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good, if +they were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. I +maintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving the +heart something to wish for, and the time to consider. + +I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is always +the fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling the +time when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by their +side. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still in +their power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which is +so dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they will +not be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shall +become more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing new +difficulties, arousing our anxieties, in fine, forcing us to desire +new proofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes its +value in our estimation. They will then find less cause of complaint +in us, and will be better satisfied with themselves. + +Shall I frankly avow it? Things would indeed change, if women would +remember at the right time that their role is always that of the party +to be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors; that, +created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in an +excess of passion, they should guard against surrendering at +discretion; the lover should always have something to ask, and +consequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favors +without limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, +revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on the +same level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat, are +indistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority; +but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing further to +do than to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper and +faithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be the +foundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; but +these qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offset +by a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bring +on languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constituted +heart. + +Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoying +prosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so much +pleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identically +erroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, the +other fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessary +consequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglects +to be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by the +practice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, and +henceforward, no more seasoning in their relations; no more of those +trifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction by +forestalling it. + +But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated by +occasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretend +lovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I only +desire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings should +emanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by a +species of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her; +that by an excessive sensitiveness, she does not convert her love into +a source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of her +existence; that by a scrupulous fidelity, she may not render her lover +too sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. + +Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness of +temper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. +Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts of +their spouses or their lovers by too many indulgences and facilities. +What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificing +everything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. +So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soon +become accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as a +favor. + +You see women every day (even among those we despise with so much +reason), who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who are +attached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, +these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I am +persuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would never +think of following such an example. That military manner is repugnant +to gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes the +charm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable woman +soften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what is +necessary to hold a lover. + +We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we often +demand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in the +bottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us that +the governing hand bears down upon us sometimes for very good reasons, +and we take kindly to it. + +Now, for my last word: In everything relating to the force and energy +of love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope for +happiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as they +can govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their own +inclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromising +it and without abusing it. + + + + +XLV + +What Favors Men Consider Faults + + +To explain in two words to your satisfaction, Marquis. This is what I +think of the letter I sent you yesterday: For a woman to profit by the +advice of Monsieur de Saint-Evremond it is requisite that she should +be affected with only a mediocre fancy, and have excited the passion +of love. However, we shall talk about that more at large whenever it +may please you, now, I will take up what concerns you. + +The sacrifice the Countess has exacted of you is well worth the price +you put upon it. To renounce for her sake, a woman whose exterior +proclaimed her readiness to accord you whatever favor you might be +willing to ask; to renounce her publicly, in the presence of her +rival, and with so little regard for her vanity, is an effort which +naturally will not pass without a proportionate recompense. The +Countess could not have found a happier pretext for giving you her +portrait. + +But to take a solemn day when the Marquise received at her home for +the first time since her illness; to select a moment when the moneyed +woman was taking up arms to make an assault of beauty upon a woman of +rank; to speak to her merely in passing, to pretend to surrender +yourself entirely to the pleasure of seeing her rival; to entertain +the latter and become one of her party, is an outrage for which you +will never be pardoned. Revenge will come quickly, and be as cruel as +possible, you will see. It is I who guarantee it. Now for the second +paragraph of your letter: + +You ask me whether the last favor, or rather the last fault we can +commit, is a certain proof that a woman loves you. Yes and no. + +Yes, if you love the woman for whom you had your first passion, and +she is refined and virtuous. But even in such a case, this proof will +not be any more certain, or more flattering for you, than all the +others she may have given you of her inclination. Whatever a woman may +do when she loves, even things of the slightest essential nature in +appearance are as much certain marks of her passion, as those greater +things of which men are so proud. I will even add, that if this +virtuous woman is of a certain disposition, the last favor will prove +less than a thousand other small sacrifices you count for nothing, for +then, on her own behalf less than on yours, she is too much interested +in listening to you, for you to claim the glory of having persuaded +her, although every one else would have been accorded the same favor. + +I know a woman who permitted herself to be vanquished two or three +times by men she did not love, and the man she really loved never +obtained a single favor. It may happen, then, that the last favor +proves nothing to him to whom it is granted. Whereas, on the contrary, +it may happen that he owes the granting of it to the little regard +had for him. Women never respect themselves more than with those they +esteem, and you may be quite sure that it requires a very imperious +inclination to cause a reasonable woman to forget herself in the +presence of one whose disdain she dreads. Your pretended triumph, +therefore, may originate in causes which, so far from being glorious +for you, would humiliate you if you were aware of them. + +We see, for example, a lover who may be repelled; the woman who loves +him fears he will escape her to pay his addresses to another woman +more accommodating; she does not wish to lose him, for it is always +humiliating to be abandoned; she yields, because she is not aware of +any other means of holding him. They say there is nothing to reproach +in this. If he leaves her after that, at least he will be put in the +wrong, for, since a woman becomes attached more by the favors she +grants, she imagines the man will be forced into gratitude. What +folly! + +Women are actuated by different motives in yielding. Curiosity impels +some, they desire to know what love is. Another woman, with few +advantages of person or figure, would hold her lover by the +attractions of pleasure. One woman is determined to make a conquest +flattering to her vanity. Still another one surrenders to pity, +opportunity, importunities, to the pleasure of taking revenge on a +rival, or an unfaithful lover. How can I enumerate them all? The heart +is so very strange in its vagaries, and the reasons and causes which +actuate it are so curious and varied, that it is impossible to +discover all the hidden springs that set it in motion. But if we +delude ourselves as to the means of holding you, how often do men +deceive themselves as to the proofs of our love? If they possessed any +delicacy of discernment, they would find a thousand signs that prove +more than the most signal favor granted. + +Tell me, Marquis, what have I done to Monsieur de Coulanges? It is a +month since he has set foot in my house. But I will not reproach him, +I shall be very pleasant with him when he does come. He is one of the +most amiable men I am acquainted with. I shall be very angry with you +if you fail to bring him to me on my return from Versailles. I want +him to sing me the last couplets he has composed, I am told they are +charming. + + + + +XLVI + +Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice + + +It was too kind of you, Marquis, to have noticed my absence. If I did +not write you during my sojourn in the country, it was because I knew +you were happy, and that tranquilized me. I felt too, that it was +necessary for love to be accorded some rights, as its reign is usually +very short, and besides that, friendship not having any quarrel with +love, I waited patiently an interval in your pleasure which would +enable you to read my letters. + +Do you know what I was doing while away? I amused myself by piecing +out all the events liable to happen in the condition your society is +now in. I foresaw the bickerings between the Countess and her rival, +and I predicted they would end in an open rupture; I also guessed that +the Marquise would not espouse the cause of the Countess, but would +take up the other's quarrel. The moneyed woman is not quite so +handsome as her rival, a decisive reason for declaring for her and +backing her up without danger. + +What will be the upshot of all this quarreling among these women? How +many revolutions, Good Heavens! in so short a time! Your happiness +seems to be the only thing that has escaped. You discover new reasons +every day for loving and esteeming this amiable Countess. You believe +that a woman of so much real merit, and with so interesting a figure, +will become known more and more. Let nothing weaken the esteem you +have always had for her. You have, it is true, obtained an avowal of +her love for you, but is she less estimable for that? On the contrary, +ought not her heart to augment in price in your eyes, in proportion to +the certainty you have acquired that you are its sole possessor? Even +if you shall have obtained proofs of her inclination we spoke about +recently, do you think that gives you any right to underrate her? + +I can not avoid saying it; men like you arouse my indignation every +time they imagine they claim the right to lack in courtesy for my sex, +and punish us for our weaknesses. Is it not the height of injustice +and the depth of depravity to continue to insult the grief which is +the cause of their changes? Can not women be inconstant without being +unjust? Is their distaste always to be followed by some injurious act? +If we are guilty, is it the right of him who has profited by our +faults, who is the cause of them, to punish us? + +Always maintain for the Countess the sentiments you have expressed in +her regard. Do not permit a false opinion to interfere with the +progress which they can still make in your heart. It is not our defeat +alone which should render us despicable in your eyes. The manner in +which we have been defended, delivered, and guarded, ought to be the +only measure of your disdain. + +So Madame de La Fayette is of the opinion that my last letter is based +upon rather a liberal foundation? You see where your indiscretions +lead me. But she does not consider that I am no more guilty than a +demonstrator of anatomy. I analyse the metaphysical man as he dissects +the physical one. Do you believe that out of regard to scruples he +should omit in his operations those portions of his subject which +might offer corrupted minds occasions to draw sallies out of an ill +regulated imagination? It is not the essence of things that causes +indecency; it is not the words, or even the ideas, it is the intent of +him who utters them, and the depravity of him who listens. Madame de +La Fayette was certainly the last woman in the world whom I would have +suspected of reproaching me in that manner, and to-morrow, at the +Countess', I will make her confess her injustice. + + + + +XLVII + +Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals + + +What, I, Marquis, astonished at the new bickerings of your moneyed +woman? Do not doubt for an instant that she employs all the +refinements of coquetry to take you away from the Countess. She may +have a liking for you, but moderate your amour propre so far as that +is concerned, for the most powerful motive of her conduct, is, without +contradiction, the desire for revenge. Her vanity is interested in +punishing her rival for having obtained the preference. + +Women never pardon such a thing as that, and if he who becomes the +subject of the quarrel is not the first object of their anger, it is +because they need him to display their resentment. You have +encountered in the rival of the Countess precisely what you exacted +from her to strengthen your attachment. You are offered in advance the +price of the attentions you devote to her, and from which you will +soon be dispensed, and I think you will have so little delicacy as to +accept them. It is written across the heart of every man: "To the +easiest." + +You should blush to deserve the least reproach from the Countess. What +sort of a woman is it you seem to prefer to her? A woman without +delicacy and without love; a woman who is guided only by the +attractions of pleasure; more vain than sensible; more voluptuous than +tender; more passionate than affectionate, she seeks, she cherishes in +you nothing but your youth and all the advantages that accompany it. + +You know what her rival is worth; you know all your wrong doing with +her; you agree that you are a monster of ingratitude, yet, you are +unwilling to take it upon yourself to merit her pardon. Truly, +Marquis, I do not understand you. I am beginning to believe that +Madame de Sévigné was right when she said that her son knew his duty +very well, and could reason like a philosopher on the subject, but +that he was carried away by his passions, so that "he is not a head +fool, but a heart fool" (ce n'est pas par la tête qu'il est fou, mais +par le coeur). + +You recall in vain what I said to you long ago about making love in a +free and easy manner. You will remember that I was then enjoying +myself with some jocular reflections which were not intended to be +formal advice. Do not forget, either, that the question then was about +a mere passing fancy, and not of an ordinary mistress. But the case +to-day is very different, you can not find among all the women of +Paris, a single one who can be compared with her you are so cruelly +abandoning. And for what reason? Because her resistance wounds your +vanity. What resource is left us to hold you? + +I agree with you, nevertheless, that when a passion is extinguished it +can not be relighted without difficulty. No one is more the master of +loving than he is of not loving. I feel the truth of all these maxims; +I do homage to them with regret, as soon as, with a knowledge of the +cause, I consider that you reject what is excellent and accept the +worse; you renounce a solid happiness, durable pleasures, and yield to +depraved tastes and pure caprices; but I can see that all my +reflections will not reform you. I am beginning to fear that I am +wearying you with morals, and to tell you the truth, it is very +ridiculous in me to preach constancy when it is certain that you do +not love, and that you are a heart fool. + +I therefore abandon you to your destiny, without, however, giving up +my desire to follow you into new follies. Why: should I be afflicted? +Would it be of any moment to assume with you the tone of a pedagogue? +Assuredly not, both of us would lose too much thereby. I should become +weary and you would not be reformed. + + + + +XLVIII + +Friendship Must Be Firm + + +I do not conceal it, Marquis, your conduct in regard to the Countess +had put me out of patience with you, and I was tempted to break off +all my relations with so wicked a man as you. My good nature in +yielding to your entreaties inclines me to the belief that my +friendship for you borders on a weakness. You are right, though. To be +your friend only so long as you follow my advice would not be true +friendship. The more you are to be censured the stronger ought to be +my hold on you, but you will understand that one is not master of his +first thoughts. Whatever effort I may make to find you less guilty, +the sympathy I have for the misfortune of my friend is of still +greater importance to me. There were moments when I could not believe +in your innocence, and they were when so charming a woman complained +of you. Now that her situation is improving every day, I consider my +harshness in my last letter almost as a crime. + +I shall, hereafter, content myself with pitying her without +importuning you any longer about her. So let us resume our ordinary +gait, if it please you. You need no longer fear my reproaches, I see +they would be useless as well as out of place. + + + + +XLIX + +Constancy Is a Virtue Among the Narrow Minded + + +You did not then know, Marquis, that it is often more difficult to get +rid of a mistress than to acquire one? You are learning by experience. +Your disgust for the moneyed woman does not surprise me except that it +did not happen sooner. + +What! knowing her character so well, you could imagine that the +despair she pretended at the sight of your indifference increasing +every day, could be the effect of a veritable passion? You could also +be the dupe of her management! I admire, and I pity your blindness. + +But was it not also vanity which aided a trifle in fortifying your +illusion? In truth it would be a strange sort of vanity, that of being +loved by such a woman; but men are so vain, that they are flattered by +the love of the most confirmed courtesan. In any case undeceive +yourself. A woman who is deserted, when she is a woman like your +beauty, has nothing in view in her sorrow but her own interest. She +endeavors by her tears and her despair, to persuade you that your +person and your merit are all she regrets; that the loss of your heart +is the summit of misfortune; that she knows nobody who can indemnify +her for the loss of it. All these sentiments are false. It is not an +afflicted lover who speaks; it is a vain woman, desperate at being +anticipated, exasperated at the lack of power in her charms, worrying +over a plan to replace you promptly, anxious to give herself an +appearance of sensibility, and to appear worthy of a better fate. She +justifies this thought of Monsieur de la Rochefoucauld: "Women do not +shed tears over the lovers they have had, so much because they loved +them, as to appear more worthy of being loved." It is for D---- to +enjoy the sentiment. + +She must indeed, have a very singular idea of you to hope that she can +impose upon you. Do you wish to know what she is? The Chevalier is +actually without an affair of the heart on hand, engage him to take +your place. I have not received two letters from you that do not speak +of the facility with which she will be consoled for having lost you. A +woman of her age begins to fear that she will not recover what she has +lost, and so she is obliged to degrade her charms by taking the first +new comer. Perhaps her sorrow is true, but she deceives you as to the +motives she gives for it. Break these chains without scruple. In +priding yourself on your constancy and delicacy for such an object, +you appear to me to be as ridiculous as you were when you lacked the +same qualities on another occasion. + +Do you remember, Marquis, what Monsieur de Coulanges said to us one +day? "Constancy is the virtue of people of limited merit. Have they +profited by the caprice of an amiable woman to establish themselves in +her heart? the sentiment of medicrioty fixes them there, it +intimidates them, they dare not make an effort to please others. Too +happy at having surprised her heart, they are afraid of abandoning a +good which they may not find elsewhere, and, as an instant's attention +to their little worth might undeceive this woman, what do they then +do? They elevate constancy up among the virtues; they transform love +into a superstition; they know how to interest reason in the +preservation of a heart which they owe only to caprice, occasion, or +surprise." Be on your guard against imitating these shallow +personages. Hearts are the money of gallantry; amiable people are the +assets of society, whose destiny is to circulate in it and make many +happy. A constant man is therefore as guilty as a miser who impedes +the circulation in commerce. He possesses a treasure which he does not +utilize, and of which there are so many who would make good use of it. + +What sort of a mistress is that who is retained by force of reason? +What languor reigns in her society, what violence must one not employ +to say there is love when it has ceased to exist? It is seldom that +passion ceases in both parties at the same time, and then constancy is +a veritable tyrant; I compare it to the tyrant of antiquity who put +people to death by tying them to dead bodies. Constancy condemns us to +the same punishment. Discard such a baleful precedent to the liberty +of association. + +Believe me, follow your tastes, for the court lady you mentioned; she +may weary you at times, it is true, but at least she will not degrade +you. If, as you say, she is as little intelligent as she is beautiful, +her reign will soon be over. Your place in her heart will soon be +vacant, and I do not doubt that another or even several other +gallantries will follow yours. Perhaps you will not wait for the end, +for I see by your letter that you are becoming a man of fashion. The +new system you have adopted makes it certain, nothing can be better +arranged. Never finish one affair without having commenced another; +never withdraw from the first except in proportion as the second one +progresses. Nothing can be better, but in spite of such wise +precautions, you may find yourself destitute of any, as, for example, +some event beyond the reach of human foresight may interfere with +these arrangements, may have for principle always to finish with all +the mistresses at once, before enabling you to find any one to keep +you busy during the interregnum. I feel free to confess, Marquis, that +such an arrangement is as prudent as can be imagined, and I do not +doubt that you will be well pleased with a plan so wisely conceived. +Adieu. + +I do not know where I obtain the courage to write you such long and +foolish letters. I find a secret charm in entertaining you, which I +should suspect if I did not know my heart so well. I have been +reflecting that it is now without any affair, and I must henceforth be +on my guard against you, for you have very often thought proper to say +very tender things to me, and I might think proper to believe in their +sincerity. + + + + +L + +Some Women Are Very Cunning + + +You may derive as much amusement out of it as you wish, Marquis, but I +shall continue to tell you that you are not fascinated by Madame la +Presidente. Believe me when I say that I see more clearly into your +affairs than you do yourself. I have known a hundred good men who, +like you, pretended with the best faith in the world that they were +amorous, but who, in truth were not in any manner whatsoever. + +There are maladies of the heart as well as maladies of the body; some +are real and some are imaginary. Not everything that attracts you +toward a woman is love. The habit of being together, the convenience +of seeing each other, to get away from one's self, the necessity for a +little gallantry, the desire to please, in a word, a thousand other +reasons which do not resemble a passion in the least; these are what +you generally take to be love, and the women are the first to fortify +this error. Always flattered by the homage rendered them, provided +their vanity profits by it, they rarely inquire into the motives to +which they owe it. But, after all, are they not right? They would +nearly always lose by it. + +To all the motives of which I have just spoken, you can add still +another, quite as capable of creating an illusion in the nature of +your sentiments. Madame la Presidente is, without contradiction, the +most beautiful woman of our time; she is newly married; she refused +the homage of the most amiable man of our acquaintance. Perhaps +nothing could be more flattering to your vanity than to make a +conquest which would not fail to give you the kind of celebrity to +which you aspire. That, my dear Marquis, is what you call love, and it +will be difficult for you to disabuse yourself of the impression, for +by force of persuading yourself that it is love, you will, in a short +time firmly believe that the inclination is real. It will be a very +singular thing some day, to see with what dignity you will speak of +your pretended sentiments; with what good faith you will believe that +they deserve recognition, and, what will be still more agreeable, will +be the deference you will believe should be their due. But +unfortunately, the result will undeceive you, and you will then be the +first to laugh at the importance with which you treated so silly an +affair. + +Shall I tell you how far injustice reaches? I am fully persuaded that +you will not become more amorous. Henceforth, you will have nothing +but a passing taste, frivolous relations, engagements, caprices; all +the arrows of love will glance from you. It is true you will not +experience its pangs, but will you enjoy, in the least, its sweetness? +Can you hope ever to recover from the fantasies to which you surrender +yourself, those moments of delight which were formerly your supreme +felicity? I have no desire to flatter you, but I believe it my duty to +do you this much justice: Your heart is intended for refined +pleasures. It is not I who hold you responsible for the dissipation in +which you are plunged, it is the young fools around you. They call +enjoyment the abuse they make of pleasure; their example carries you +away. But this intoxication will be dissipated sooner or later, and +you will soon, see, at least I hope so, that you have been deceived in +two ways in the state of your heart. You thought it was fascinated by +Madame la Presidente, you will recognize your mistake; you thought she +had ceased to have an inclination for--but I hold to the words I have +uttered. Perhaps there will come a time when I shall be at liberty to +express my thoughts more freely. Now, I reply to the remainder of your +letter. + +Confess it, Marquis, that you had little else to do this morning when +you re-read my letters. I add that you must have been in a bad humor +to undertake their criticism. Some brilliant engagement, some +flattering rendezvous was wanting. But I do not care to elude the +difficulty. So I seem to contradict myself sometimes? If I were to +admit that it might very well be; if I were to give you the same +answer that Monsieur de la Bruyère gave his critics the other day: "It +is not I who contradict myself, it is the heart upon which I reason," +could you reasonably conclude from it that everything I have said to +you is false? I do not believe it. + +But how do I know, in effect, if, led away by the various situations +in which you were placed, I may not have appeared to destroy what I +had advanced on different occasions? How do I know, if, seeing you +ready to yield to a whim, I may not have carried too far, truths, +which, feebly uttered, would not, perhaps, have brought you back? How +do I know, in a word, if, being interested in the happiness of a +friend, the desire to serve her may not have sometimes diminished my +sincerity? I think I am very good natured to reply seriously to the +worries you have caused me. Ought I not first to take cognizance of +the fact that there is more malice in your letter than criticism? This +will be the last time you will have an opportunity to abuse my +simplicity. I am going to console myself for your perfidy with some +one who is assuredly not so wicked as you. + +What a pity it is that you are not a woman! It would give me so much +pleasure to discuss the new coiffures with you! I never saw anything +so extravagant as their height. At least, Marquis, remember that if +Madame la Presidente does not wear one of them incessantly, you can no +longer remain attached to her with decency. + + + + +LI + +The Parts Men and Women Play + + +So the affair has been decided! Whatever I may say of it, you are the +master of Madame la Presidente; a beloved rival has been sacrificed +for you and you triumph. + +How prompt your vanity is to make profit out of everything. I would +laugh heartily if your pretended triumph should end by your receiving +notice to quit some fine morning. For it may well be that this +sacrifice of which you boast so much is nothing but a stratagem. + +Ever since you have been associated with women, have you not +established as a principle that you must be on your guard against the +sentiments they affect? If your beauty had accepted you merely for the +purpose of re-awakening a languishing love in the heart of her +Celadon; if you were only the instrument of jealousy on the part of +one and artifice on the other, would that be a miracle? + +You say that Madame la Presidente is not very shrewd, and consequently +incapable of such a ruse. My dear Marquis, love is a great tutor, and +the most stupid women (in other respects) have often an acute +discernment, more accurate and more certain than any other, when it +comes to an affair of the heart. But let us leave this particular +thesis, and examine men in general who are in the same situation as +you. + +They all believe as you do, that the sacrifice of a rival supposes +some superiority over him. But how often does it happen that this same +sacrifice is only a by play? If it is sincere, the woman either loved +the rival or she did not. If she loved him, then as soon as she leaves +him, it is a sure proof that she loves him no longer, in which case +what glory is there for you in such a preference? If she did not love +him, what can you infer to your advantage from a pretended victory +over a man who was indifferent to her? + +There is also another case where you may be preferred, without that +preference being any more flattering. It is when the vanity of the +woman you attack is stronger than her inclination for the disgraced +lover. Your rank, your figure, your reputation, your fortune, may +determine her in your favor. It is very rare (I say it to the shame of +women, and men are no less ridiculous in that respect), it is rare, I +repeat, that a lover, who has nothing but noble sentiments to offer, +can long hold his own against a man distinguished for his rank, or his +position, who has servants, a livery, an equipage, etc. When the most +tender lover makes a woman blush for his appearance, when she dare not +acknowledge him as her conqueror, when she does not even consider him +as an object she can sacrifice with eclat, I predict that his reign +will be short. Her reasons for getting rid of him will be to her an +embarrassment of choice. Thus the defunct of la Presidente was a +counsellor of state, without doubt as dull and as stiff as his wig. +What a figure to set up against a courtier, against a warrior like +you? + +Well, will you believe in my predictions another time? What did I tell +you? Did the Chevalier find it difficult to persuade your Penelope? +This desolate woman, ready to break her heart, gave you a successor in +less than fifteen days, loves him, proves it, and is flouted. Is this +losing too much time? What is your opinion? + + + + +LII + +Love Is a Traitor With Sharp Claws + + +Yes, indeed, Marquis, it is due to my friendship, it is due to my +counsel that the Countess owes the tranquillity she begins to enjoy, +and I can not conceive the chagrin which causes the indifference she +manifests for you. I am very far, however, from desiring to complain +of you; your grief springs from a wounded vanity. + +Men are very unjust, they expect a woman always to consider them as +objects interesting to them, while they, in abandoning a woman, do not +ordinarily omit anything that will express their disdain. Of what +importance to you is the hatred or love of a person whom you do not +love? Tell me that. Your jealousy of the little Duke is so +unreasonable that I burst out laughing when I learned it. Is it not +quite simple, altogether natural that a woman should console herself +for your loss, by listening to a man who knows the value of her heart +better than you? By what right, if you please, do you venture to take +exceptions to it? You must admit that Madame de Sévigné was right: You +have a foolish heart, my poor Marquis. + +In spite of all that, the part you wish me to play in the matter +appears to me to be exceedingly agreeable. I can understand how nice +it would be to aid you in your plan of vengeance against an +unfaithful woman. Though it should be only through rancor or the +oddity of the thing, we must love each other. But all such comedies +turn out badly generally. Love is a traitor who scratches us when we +play with him. + +So, Marquis, keep your heart, I am very scrupulous about interfering +with so precious an association. Moreover, I am so disgusted with the +staleness of men, that henceforth I desire them only as friends. There +is always a bone to pick with a lover. I am beginning to understand +the value of rest, and I wish to enjoy it. I will return to this, +however. It would be very strange if you take the notion that you need +consolation, and that my situation exacts the same succor because the +Marquis de ---- has departed on his embassy. Undeceive yourself, my +friends suffice me, and, if you wish to remain among their number, at +least do not think of saying any more gallant things to me, +otherwise--Adieu, Marquis. + + + + +LIII + +Old Age Not a Preventive Against Attack + + +Oh, I shall certainly abandon your interests if you persist in talking +to me in such fashion. What demon inspired you with the idea of taking +the place of the absent? Could any one tease another as you did me +last evening? I do not know how you began it, but however much I +desired to be angry with you, it was impossible for me to do so. I do +not know how this will end. What is certain, however, is; it will be +useless for you to go on, for I have decided not to love you, and what +is worse, I shall never love you; yes, sir, never. + +Eh? truly, but this is a strange thing; to attempt to persuade a woman +that she is afflicted, that she needs consolation, when she assures +you that it is not the fact, and that she wants for nothing. This is +driving things with a tight hand. I entreat you, reflect a little on +the folly that has seized upon you. Would it be decent, tell me that, +if I were to take the place of my friend? That a woman who has served +you as a Mentor, who has played the role of mother to you, should +aspire to that of lover? Unprincipled wretch that you are! If you so +promptly abandon a young and lovely woman, what would you do with an +old girl like me? Perhaps you wish to attempt my conquest to see +whether love is for me the same in practice as in theory. Do not go to +the trouble of attempting such a seduction, I will satisfy your +curiosity on that point immediately. + +You know that whatever we are, women seldom follow any given +principles. Well, that is what you would discover in any gallant +association you aspire to form with me. All I have said about women +and love, has not given you any information as to my line of conduct +on such an occasion. There is a vast difference between feeling and +thinking; between talking for one's own account and pleading the cause +of another. You would, therefore, find in me many singularities that +might strike you unfavorably. I do not feel as other women. You might +know them all without knowing Ninon, and believe me, the novelties you +would discover would not compensate you for the trouble you might take +to please me. + +It is useless to exaggerate the value you put upon my conquest, that I +tell you plainly; you are expending too much on hope, I am not able to +respond. Remain where you are in a brilliant career. The court offers +you a thousand beautiful women, with whom you do not risk, as you +would with me, becoming weary of philosophy, of too much intelligence. + +I do not disguise the fact, however, that I would have been glad to +see you to-day. My head was split all the afternoon over a dispute on +the ancients and moderns. I am still out of humor on the subject, and +feel tempted to agree with you that I am not so far along on the +decline of life as to confine myself to science, and especially to the +gentlemen of antiquity. + +If you could only restrain yourself and pay me fewer compliments it is +not to be doubted that I would prefer to have you come and enliven my +serious occupations rather than any one else. But you are such an +unmanageable man, so wicked, that I am afraid to invite you to come +and sup with me to-morrow. I am mistaken, for it is now two hours +after midnight, and I recollect that my letter will not be handed you +before noon. So it is to-day I shall expect you. Have you any fault to +find? It is a formal rendezvous, to be sure, but let the fearlessness +in appointing it be a proof that I am not very much afraid of you, and +that I shall believe in as much of your soft talk as I deem proper. +You understand that it will not be I who can be imposed upon by that. +I know men so well---- + + + + +LIV + +A Shrewd But Not an Unusual Scheme + + +This is not the time, Marquis, to hide from you the true sentiments of +the Countess in your regard. However much I have been able to keep her +secret without betraying her friendship, and I have always done so, if +I conceal from you what I am going to communicate, you may one day +justly reproach me. + +Whatever infidelities you may have been guilty of, whatever care I +have been able to take to persuade her that you have been entirely +forgotten, she has never ceased to love you tenderly. Although she has +sought to punish you by an assumed indifference, she has never thought +of depriving herself of the pleasure of seeing you, and it has been +through the complaisance of the Countess that I have sometimes worried +you; it was to goad you into visiting me more frequently. But all +these schemes have not been able to satisfy a heart so deeply wounded, +and she is on the point of executing a design I have all along been +opposed to. You will learn all about it by reading the letter she +wrote me yesterday, and which I inclose in this. + + + + +FROM THE COUNTESS TO MADEMOISELLE DE L'ENCLOS. + + +"If you wish to remain my friend, my dear Ninon, cease to combat my +resolution; you know it is not the inspiration of the moment. It is +not the fruit of a momentary mortification, an imprudent vexation, nor +despair. I have never concealed it from you. The possession of the +heart of the Marquis de Sévigné might have been my supreme felicity if +I could have flattered myself with having it forever. I was certain of +losing it if I had granted him the favors he exacted of me. His +inconstancy has taught me that a different conduct would not be a sure +means of retaining a lover. I must renounce love forever, since men +are incapable of having a liaison with a woman, as tender, but as pure +as that of simple friendship. + +"You, yourself, well know that I am not sufficiently cured to see the +Marquis without always suffering. Flight is the only remedy for my +malady, and that is what I am about to take. I do not fear, moreover, +what the world may say about my withdrawal to the country. I have +cautioned those who might be surprised. It is known that I have won in +a considerable action against the heirs of my late husband. I have +given out that I am going to take possession of the estate awarded me. +I will thus deprive the public of the satisfaction of misinterpreting +my taste for solitude, and the Marquis of all suspicion that he is in +any manner to blame for it. I inclose his letters and his portrait. + +"Good Heaven! How weak I am! Why should it cost my heart so much to +get rid of an evil so fatal to my repose? But it is done, and my +determination can not be shaken. Pity me, however, and remember, my +dear friend, the promise you gave me to make him understand that I +have for him the most profound indifference. Whoever breaks off +relations with a lover in too public a manner, suggests resentment and +regret at being forced to do so; it is an honest way of saying that +one would ask nothing better than to be appeased. As I have no desire +to resume my relations with the Marquis, return him what I send, but +in the manner agreed upon, and pray him to make a similar restitution. +You may tell him that the management of my property obliges me to +leave Paris for a time, but do not speak of me first. + +"I should be inconsolable at leaving you, my dear Ninon, if I did not +hope that you would visit me in my solitude. You write willingly to +your friends, if you judge them by the tenderness and esteem they have +for you. In that case, you have none more worthy of that title than I. +I rely, therefore, upon your letters until you come to share my +retreat. You know my sentiments for you." + +I have no advice to give you, Marquis, on what you have just read, the +sole favor I expect from you is never to compromise me for the +indiscretion I commit, and that the Countess shall never have any +reason for not forgiving me. All I can say to justify myself in my own +eyes is, that you have loved the Countess too much for her resolution +to be a matter of absolute indifference to you. Had I been just, I +would have betrayed both by leaving you in ignorance of her design. + + + + +LV + +A Happy Ending + + +I am delighted with everything you have done, and you are charming. Do +not doubt it, your behavior, my entreaties, and better than all, love +will overcome the resistance of the Countess. Everything should +conspire to determine her to accept the offer you have made of your +hand. I could even, from this time on, assure you that pride alone +will resist our efforts and her own inclination. + +This morning I pressed her earnestly to decide in your favor. Her last +entrenchment was the fear of new infidelities on your part. + +"Reassure yourself," said I, "in proof that the Marquis will be +faithful to you, is the fact that he has been undeceived about the +other women, by comparing them with her he was leaving. Honest people +permit themselves only a certain number of caprices, and the Marquis +has had those which his age and position in society seemed to justify. +He yielded to them at a time when they were pardonable. He paid +tribute to the fashion by tasting of all the ridiculous things going. +Henceforth, he can be reasonable with impunity. A man can not be +expected to be amorous of his wife, but should he be, it will be +pardoned him as soon as people see you. You risk nothing, therefore, +Countess; you yourself have put on the airs of a society woman, but +you were too sensible not to abandon such a role; you renounced it; +the Marquis imitates you. Wherefore forget his mistakes. Could you +bear the reproach of having caused the death of so amiable a man? It +would be an act that would cry out for vengeance." + +In a word, I besought and pressed her, but she is still irresolute. +Still, I do not doubt that you will finish by overcoming a resistance +which she, herself, already deems very embarrassing. + +Well, Marquis, if the anxiety all this has caused you, gives you the +time to review what I have been saying to you for several days past, +might you not be tempted to believe that I have contradicted myself? +At first I advised you to treat love lightly and to take only so much +of it as might amuse you. You were to be nothing but a gallant, and +have no relations with women except those in which you could easily +break the ties. I then spoke to you in a general way, and relative to +ordinary women. Could I imagine that you would be so fortunate as to +meet a woman like the Countess, who would unite the charms of her sex +to the qualities of honest men? What must be your felicity? You are +going to possess in one and the same person, the most estimable friend +and a most charming mistress. Deign to admit me to share a third +portion of your friendship and my happiness will equal your own. Can +one be happier than in sharing the happiness of friends? + + + + +CORRESPONDENCE + +BETWEEN + +LORD SAINT-EVREMOND + +AND + +NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +WHEN OVER EIGHTY YEARS +OF AGE + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Charles de Saint Denis, Lord of Saint-Evremond, Marshal of France, was +one of the few distinguished Frenchmen, exiled by Louis XIV, whose +distinguished abilities as a warrior and philosopher awarded him a +last resting place in Westminster Abbey. His tomb, surmounted by a +marble bust, is situated in the nave near the cloister, located among +those of Barrow, Chaucer, Spenser, Cowley and other renowned +Englishmen. + +His epitaph, written by the hand of a Briton, is singularly replete +with the most eminent qualities, which the great men of his period +recognized in him, though his life was extraordinarily long and +stormy. He was moreover, a profound admirer of Ninon de l'Enclos +during his long career, and he did much toward shaping her philosophy, +and enabling her to understand the human heart in all its +eccentricities, and how to regulate properly the passion of love. + +During his long exile in England, the two corresponded at times, and +the letters here given are the fragments of a voluminous +correspondence, the greater part of which has been lost. They are to +be found in the untranslated collated works of Saint-Evremond, and are +very curious, inasmuch as they were written when Ninon and +Saint-Evremond were in their "eighties." + +Saint-Evremond always claimed, that his extremely long and vigorous +life was due to the same causes which Ninon de l'Enclos attributed to +her great age, that is, to an unflagging zeal in observing the +doctrines of the Epicurean philosophy. These ideas appear in his +letter to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, written to her under the sobriquet +of "Leontium," and which is translated and appended to this +correspondence. + +As an evidence of Saint-Evremond's unimpaired faculties at a great +age, the charms of his person attracted the attention of the Duchess +of Sandwich, one of the beauties of the English Court, and she became +so enamored of him, that a liaison was the result, which lasted until +the time of Saint-Evremond's death. They were like two young lovers +just beginning their career, instead of a youth over eighty years of +age, and a maiden who had passed forty. Such attachments were not +uncommon among persons who lived calm, philosophical lives, their very +manner of living inspiring tender regard, as was the case of the great +affection of the Marquis de Sévigné, who although quite young, and his +rank an attraction to the great beauties of the Court, nevertheless +aspired to capture the heart of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, who was over +sixty years of age. What Ninon thought about the matter, appears in +her letters on the preceding pages. + + + + +Correspondence Between Lord Saint-Evremond +and Ninon de L'Enclos +When Over Eighty Years +of Age + + + + + +I + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Lovers and Gamblers have Something in Common + + +I have been trying for more than a year to obtain news of you from +everybody, but nobody can give me any. M. de la Bastille tells me that +you are in good health, but adds, that if you have no more lovers, you +are satisfied to have a greater number of friends. + +The falsity of the latter piece of news casts a doubt upon the verity +of the former, because you are born to love as long as you live. +Lovers and gamblers have something in common: Who has loved will love. +If I had been told that you had become devout, I might have believed +it, for that would be to pass from a human passion to the love of God, +and give occupation to the soul. But not to love, is a species of +void, which can not be consistent with your heart. + +Ce repos languissant ne fut jamais un bien; +C'est trouver sans mouvoir l'êtat où l'on n'est rien. + +('Twas never a good this languishing rest; +'Tis to find without search a state far from blest.) + +I want to know about your health, your occupations, your inclinations, +and let it be in a long enough letter, with moralizing and plenty of +affection for your old friend. + +The news here is that the Count de Grammont is dead, and it fills me +with acute sorrow. + +If you know Barbin, ask him why he prints so many things that are not +mine, over my name? I have been guilty of enough folly without +assuming the burden of others. They have made me the author of a +diatribe against Père Bouhours, which I never even imagined. There is +no writer whom I hold in higher esteem. Our language owes more to him +than to any other author. + +God grant that the rumor of Count de Grammont's death be false, and +that of your health true. The Gazette de Hollande says the Count de +Lauzun is to be married. If this were true he would have been summoned +to Paris, besides, de Lauzun is a Duke, and the name "Count" does not +fit him. + +Adieu. I am the truest of your servants, who would gain much if you +had no more lovers, for I would be the first of your friends despite +an absence which may be called eternal. + + + + +II + + +Ninon de L'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +It is sweet to remember those we have loved + + +I was alone in my chamber, weary of reading, when some one exclaimed: +"Here is a messenger from Saint-Evremond!" You can imagine how quickly +my ennui disappeared--it left me in a moment. + +I have been speaking of you quite recently, and have learned many +things which do not appear in your letters--about your perfect health +and your occupation. The joy in my mind indicates its strength, and +your letter assures me that England promises you forty years more of +life, for I believe that it is only in England that they speak of men +who have passed the fixed period of human life. I had hoped to pass +the rest of my days with you, and if you had possessed the same +desire, you would still be in France. + +It is, however, pleasant to remember those we have loved, and it is, +perhaps, for the embellishment of my epitaph, that this bodily +separation has occurred. + +I could have wished that the young ecclesiastic had found me in the +midst of the glories of Nike, which could not change me, although you +seem to think that I am more tenderly enchanted with him than +philosophy permits. + +Madame the Duchess de Bouillon is like an eighteen-year old: the +source of her charms is in the Mazarin blood. + +Now that our kings are so friendly, ought you not to pay us a visit? +In my opinion it would be the greatest success derived from the peace. + + + + +III + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Wrinkles are a Mark of Wisdom + + +I defy Dulcinea to feel with greater joy the remembrance of her +Chevalier. Your letter was accorded the reception it deserved, and the +sorrowful figure in it did not diminish the merit of its sentiments. I +am very much affected by their strength and perseverance. Nurse them +to the shame of those who presume to judge them. I am of your opinion, +that wrinkles are a mark of wisdom. I am delighted that your surface +virtues do not sadden you, I try to use them in the same way. You have +a friend, a provincial Governor, who owes his fortune to his +amiability. He is the only aged man who is not ridiculed at Court. M. +de Turenne wished to live only to see him grow old, and desired to see +him father of a family, rich and happy. He has told more jokes about +his new dignity than others think. + +M. d'Ebène who gave you the name of "Curictator," has just died at the +hospital. How trivial are the judgments of men! If M. d'Olonne were +alive and could have read your letters to me, he would have continued +to be of your quality with his philosophy. M. de Lauzun is my +neighbor, and will accept your compliments. I send you very tenderly, +those of M. de Charleval, and ask you to remember M. de Ruvigny, his +friend of the Rue des Tournelles. + + + + +IV + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Near Hopes are Worth as much as Those Far Off + + +I sent a reply to your last letter to the correspondent of the Abbé +Dubois, but as he was at Versailles, I fear it has not reached him. + +I should have been anxious about your health without the visit of +Madame de Bouillon's little librarian, who filled my heart with joy by +showing me a letter from one who thinks of me on your account. +Whatever reason I may have had during my illness to praise the world +and my friends, I never felt so lively a joy as at this mark of +kindness. You may act upon this as you feel inclined since it was you +who drew it upon me. + +I pray you to let me know, yourself, whether you have grasped that +happiness one enjoys so much at certain times? The source will never +run dry so long as you shall possess the friendship of the amiable +friend who invigorates your life. (Lady Sandwich.) How I envy those +who go to England, and how I long to dine with you once again! What a +gross desire, that of dinner! + +The spirit has great advantages over the body, though the body +supplies many little repeated pleasures, which solace the soul in its +sorrowful moods. You have often laughed at my mournful reflections, +but I have banished them all. It is useless to harbor them in the +latter days of one's life, and one must be satisfied with the life of +every day as it comes. Near hopes, whatever you, may say against them, +are worth as much as those far off, they are more certain. This is +excellent moralizing. Take good care of your health, it is to that +everything should tend. + + + + +V + +Ninon de L'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +On the Death of de Charleval + + +Now, M. de Charleval is dead, and I am so much affected that I am +trying to console myself by thinking of the share you will take in my +affliction. Up to the time of his death, I saw him every day. His +spirit possessed all the charms of youth, and his heart all the +goodness and tenderness so desirable among true friends. We often +spoke of you and of all the old friends of our time. His life and the +one I am leading now, had much in common, indeed, a similar loss is +like dying one's self. + +Tell me the news about yourself. I am as much interested in your life +in London as if you were here, and old friends possess charms which +are not so well appreciated as when they are separated. + + + + +VI + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +The Weariness of Monotony + + +M. de Clerambault gave me pleasure by telling me that I am in your +thoughts constantly. I am worthy of it on account of the affection I +maintain for you. We shall certainly deserve the encomiums of +posterity by the duration of our lives, and by that of your +friendship. I believe I shall live as long as you, although I am +sometimes weary of always doing the same things, and I envy the Swiss +who casts himself into the river for that reason. My friends often +reprehend me for such a sentiment, and assure me that life is worth +living as long as one lives in peace and tranquillity with a healthy +mind. However, the forces of the body lead to other thoughts, and +those forces are preferred to strength of mind, but everything is +useless when a change is impossible. It is equally as worth while to +drive away sad reflections as to indulge in useless ones. + +Madame Sandwich has given me a thousand pleasures in making me so +happy as to please her. I did not dream, in my declining years to be +agreeable to a woman of her age. She has more spirit than all the +women of France, and more true merit. She is on the point of leaving +us, which is regretted by every one who knows her, by myself, +particularly. Had you been here we should have prepared a banquet +worthy of old times. Love me always. + +Madame de Coulanges accepted the commission to present your kind +compliments to M. le Comte de Grammont, through Madame de Grammont. He +is so young that I believe him fickle enough in time to dislike the +infirm, and that he will love them as soon as they return to good +health. + +Every one who returns from England speaks of the beauty of Madame la +Duchesse de Mazarin, as they allude to the beauty of Mademoiselle de +Bellefond, whose sun is rising. You have attached me to Madame de +Mazarin, and I hear nothing but the good that is said of her. + +Adieu, my friend, why is it not "Good day?" We must not die without +again seeing each other. + + + + +VII + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +After the Death of La Duchesse de Mazarin + + +What a loss for you, my friend! If it were not for the fact that we, +ourselves, will be considered a loss, we could not find consolation. I +sympathize with you with all my heart. You have just lost an amiable +companion who has been your mainstay in a foreign land. What can be +done to make good such a misfortune? Those who live long are subject +to see their friends die, after that, your philosophy, your mind, will +serve to sustain you. + +I feel this death as much as if I had been acquainted with the +Duchess. She thought of me in her last moments, and her goodness +affected me more than I can express; what she was to you drew me to +her. There is no longer a remedy, and there is none for whatever may +happen our poor bodies, so preserve yours. Your friends love to see +you so well and so wise, for I hold those to be wise who know how to +be happy. + +I give you a thousand thanks for the tea you sent me, but the lively +tone of your letter pleased me as much as your present. + +You will again see Madame Sandwich, whom we saw depart with regret. I +could wish that her condition in life might serve to be of some +consolation to you. I am ignorant of English customs, but she was +quite French while here. + +A thousand adieux, my friend. If one could think as did Madame de +Chevreuse, who believed when dying that she was going to converse with +all her friends in the other world! It would be a sweet thought. + + + + +VIII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Love Banishes Old Age + + +Your life, my well beloved, has been too illustrious not to be lived +in the same manner until the end. Do not permit M. de la +Rochefoucauld's "hell" to frighten you; it was a devised hell he +desired to construct into a maxim. Pronounce the word "love" boldly, +and that of "old age" will never pass your lips. + +There is so much spirit in your letters, that you do not leave me even +to imagine a decline of life in you. What ingratitude to be ashamed to +mention love, to which we owe all our merit, all our pleasures! For, +my lovely keeper of the casket, the reputation of your probity is +established particularly upon the fact that you have resisted lovers, +who would willingly have made free with the money of their friends. + +Confess all your passions to make your virtues of greater worth; +however, you do not expose but the one-half of your character; there +is nothing better than what regards your friends, nothing more +unsatisfactory than what you have bestowed upon your lovers. + +In a few verses, I will draw your entire character. Here they are, +giving you the qualities you now have and those you have had: + + Dans vos amours on vous trouvait legère, + En amitié toujours sûre et sincère; + Pour vos amants, les humeurs de Vénus, + Pour vos amis les solides vertus: + Quand les premiers vous nommaient infidèle, + Et qu'asservis encore à votre loi, + Ils reprochaient une flamme nouvelle, +Les autres se louaient de votre bonne foi. + Tantôt c'était le naturel d'Hélène, + Ses appétits comme tous ses appas; + Tantôt c'était la probité romaine? +C'était d'honneur la règle et le compas. + Dans un couvent en soeur dépositaire, + Vous auriez bien ménagé quelque affaire, + Et dans le monde à garder les dépôts, +On vous eût justement préférée aux dévots. + + (In your love affairs you were never severe, + But your friendship was always sure and sincere; + The humors of Venus for those who desired, + For your friends, in your heart, solid virtues conspired; +When the first, infidelity laid at your door, + Though not yet exempt from the law of your will, + And every new flame never failed to deplore, +The others rejoiced that you trusted them still. + Ingenuous Helen was sometimes your role, + With her appetites, charms, and all else beside; + Sometimes Roman probity wielded your soul, + In honor becoming your rule and your guide. + And though in a convent as guardian nun, +You might have well managed some sprightly fun, + In the world, as a keeper of treasures untold, +Preferred you would be to a lamb of the fold.) + +Here is a little variety, which I trust will not surprise you: + +L'indulgente et sage Nature +A formé l'âme de Ninon +De la volupté d'Epicure +Et de la vertu de Caton. + + + + +IX + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Stomachs Demand More Attention than Minds + + +The Abbé Dubois has just handed me your letter, and personally told me +as much good news about your stomach as about your mind. There are +times when we give more attention to our stomachs than to our minds, +and I confess, to my sorrow, that I find you happier in the enjoyment +of the one than of the other. I have always believed that your mind +would last as long as yourself, but we are not so sure of the health +of the body, without which nothing is left but sorrowful reflections. +I insensibly begin making them on all occasions. + +Here is another chapter. It relates to a handsome youth, whose desire +to see honest people in the different countries of the world, induced +him to surreptitiously abandon an opulent home. Perhaps you will +censure his curiosity, but the thing is done. He knows many things, +but he is ignorant of others, which one of his age should ignore. I +deemed him worthy of paying you a visit, to make him begin to feel +that he has not lost his time by journeying to England. Treat him well +for love of me. + +I begged his elder brother, who is my particular friend, to obtain +news of Madame la Duchesse Mazarin and of Madame Harvey, both of whom +wished to remember me. + + + + +X + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Why does Love Diminish After Marriage? + + +Translator's Note.--Two of Ninon's friends whom she idolized, were +very much surprised to discover after their marriage, that the great +passion they felt for each other before marriage, became feebler every +day, and that even their affection was growing colder. It troubled +them, and in their anxiety, they consulted Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, +begging her to find some reason in her philosophy, why the possession +of the object loved should weaken the strength of ante-nuptial +passion, and even destroy the most ardent affection. + +The question was discussed by Ninon and her "Birds" for several days +without reaching an opinion that was in any manner satisfactory. It +was therefore resolved to consult Saint-Evremond, who was living in +exile in England. After writing him all the particulars, and the +discussions that had been held with opinions pro and con, he sent the +following letter in reply, which is unanswerable upon the subject. +Moreover, it contains lessons that should be carefully studied and +well learned by all loving hearts, who desire to maintain their early +affection for each other during life. + +The letter is a masterpiece of the philosophy of love, and it is +remarkable, in that it develops traits in human nature upon the +subject of love and marriage, which are overlooked in questions +applicable to the relations between the sexes, and that are so often +strained to the breaking point. Indeed, it gives clues to a remedy +which can not fail to effect a cure. + + * * * * * + +My opinion is exactly in line with yours, Mademoiselle; it is not +always, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved object +which of itself destroys love; the true source of the dissatisfaction +that follows exists in the unintelligent manner of economizing the +sentiments, a too complete, too easy, and too prolonged possession. + +When we have yielded to the transports of a passion without reserve, +the tremendous shock to the soul can not fail quickly to leave it in a +profound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms and +chills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calm +which follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equal +and more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. +Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desire +anything. You will find that your desires are nothing but curiosity, +and this curiosity, which is one of the forces of the heart, +satisfied, our desires vanish. Whoever, therefore, would hold a spouse +or a lover should leave him something to be desired; something new +should be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, +procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I will +vouch for his perseverance in fidelity. + +I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat," is, in +an ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon the +lover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the cooling +of the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is due +to her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expended +in a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination she +had excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of her +lover, she becomes always the same statue; no variety to be hoped for, +and her lover knows it well. + +But in the woman I have in mind, it is the aurora of a lovelier day; +it is the beginning of the most satisfying pleasures. I, understand by +effusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, +those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us the +certainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all the +esteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch when +a man of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which have +always been hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires brings into +play all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; her +heart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far from +leading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. + +But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able to +control her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough +(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love with +prudence, with restraint, and modesty is, for that reason, the most +ingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to the +impetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in the +object loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That is +not love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover into +a spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve and +economy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, the +heart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. +If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will be +nothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive in +a lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, will +experience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity of +separating. + +To sum up: There is more intelligence required to love than is +generally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of the +fatal "yes" or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a woman +does not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, +desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches the +summit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care to +retain him, as he exhibited to overcome her; the desire to keep him +should render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to a +high position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficient +to make a man amorous; to render him constant, something more is +necessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal of +intelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and inequality. +Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become too +tender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good if +they were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. I +maintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving the +heart something to wish for, and the time to consider. + +I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is always +the fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling the +time when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by their +side. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still in +their power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which is +so dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they will +not be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shall +become more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing new +difficulties, arouse our anxieties, in fine, force us to desire new +proofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes the value +in our estimation. They will then find less cause of complaint in us, +and will be better satisfied with themselves. + +Shall I frankly avow it? Things would indeed change if women would +remember at the right time, that their role is always that of the +party to be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors; +that, created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in an +excess of passion, they should guard against surrendering at +discretion; the lover should always have something to ask, and +consequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favors +without limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, +revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on the +same level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat are +indistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority; +but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing more to do +than to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper, and +faithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be the +foundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; but +these qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offset +by a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bring +on languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constituted +heart. + +Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoying +prosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so much +pleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identically +erroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, the +other fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessary +consequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglects +to be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by the +practice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, and +hence-forward no more spicy seasoning in their relations, no more of +those trifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction by +forestalling it. + +But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated by +occasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretend +lovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I only +desire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings should +emanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by a +species of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her; +that by an excessive sensitiveness she does not convert her love into +a source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of her +existence; that by a scrupulous fidelity she may not render her lover +too sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. + +Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness of +temper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. +Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts of +their spouses or their lovers, by too many indulgences and facilities. +What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificing +everything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. +So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soon +become accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as a +favor. + +You see women every day (even among those we despise with so much +reason) who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who are +attached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, +these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I am +persuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would never +think of following such an example. That military manner is repugnant +to gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes the +charm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable woman +soften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what is +necessary to hold a lover. + +We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we often +demand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in the +bottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us that +the governing hand bears down upon us sometimes for very good reasons, +and we take kindly to it. + +Now, for my last word. In everything relating to the force and energy +of love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope for +happiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as they +can govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their own +inclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromising +it and without abusing it. + + + + +XI + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Few People Resist Age + + +A sprightly mind is dangerous to friendship. Your letter would have +spoiled any one but me. I know your lively and astonishing +imagination, and I have even wanted to remember that Lucian wrote in +praise of the fly, to accustom myself to your style. Would to Heaven +you could think of me what you write, I should dispense with the rest +of the world; so it is with you that glory dwells. + +Your last letter is a masterpiece. It has been the subject of all the +talks we have had in my chamber for the past month. You are +rejuvenating; you do well to love. Philosophy agrees well with +spiritual charms. It is not enough to be wise, one must please, and I +perceive that you will always please as long as you think as you do. + +Few people resist age, but I believe I am not yet overcome by it. I +could wish with you, that Madame Mazarin had looked upon life from her +own viewpoint, without thinking of her beauty, which would always have +been agreeable when common sense held the place of less brilliancy. +Madame Sandwich will preserve her mental force after losing her +youth, at least I think so. + +Adieu, my friend. When you see Madame Sandwich, remember me to her, I +should be very sorry to have her forget me. + + + + +XII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Age Has Some Consolations + + +It gives me a lively pleasure to see young people, handsome and +expanding like flowers; fit to please, and able to sincerely affect an +old heart like mine. As there has always been a strong similarity +between your tastes, your inclinations, your sentiments, and mine, I +think you will be pleased to receive a young Chevalier who is +attractive to all our ladies. He is the Duke of Saint Albans, whom I +have begged to pay you a visit, as much in his own interests as in +yours. + +Is there any one of your friends like de Tallard, imbued with the +spirit of our age, to whom I can be of any service? If so, command me. +Give me some news of our old friend de Gourville. I presume he is +prosperous in his affairs; if his health is poor I shall be very +sorry. + +Doctor Morelli, my particular friend, accompanies the Countess of +Sandwich, who goes to France for her health. The late Count Rochester, +father of Madame Sandwich, had more spirit than any man in England, +but Madame Sandwich has more than her father. She is generous and +spirituelle, and as amiable as she is generous and spirituelle. These +are a portion of her qualities. But, I have more to say about the +physician than about the invalid. + +Seven cities, as you know, dispute among themselves, the birth place +of Homer; seven great nations are quarrelling over Morelli: India, +Egypt, Arabia, Persia, Turkey, Italy, and Spain. The cold countries, +even the temperate ones, France, England and Germany, make no +pretensions. He is acquainted with every language and speaks the most +of them. His style, elevated, grand and figurative, leads me to +believe that he is of Oriental origin, and that he has absorbed what +he found good among the Europeans. He is passionately fond of music, +wild over poetry, inquisitive about paintings, a connoisseur in +everything--I cannot remember all. He has friends who know +architecture, and though skilled in his own profession, he is an adept +in others. + +I pray you to give him opportunities to become acquainted with all +your illustrious friends. If you make him yours, I shall consider him +fortunate, for you will never be able to make him acquainted with +anybody possessing more merit than yourself. + +It seems to me that Epicurus included in his sovereign good the +remembrance of past things. There is no sovereign good for a +centenarian like me, but there are many consolations, that of thinking +of you, and of all I have heard you say, is one of the greatest. + +I write of many things of no importance to you, because I never think +that I may weary you. It is enough if they please me, it is +impossible at my age, to hope they will please others. My merit +consists in being contented, too happy in being able to write you. + +Remember to save some of M. de Gourville's wine for me. I am lodged +with one of the relatives of M. de L'Hermitage, a very honest man, and +an exile to England on account of his religion. I am very sorry that +the Catholic conscience of France could not suffer him to live in +Paris, and that the delicacy of his own compelled him to abandon his +country. He certainly deserves the approbation of his cousin. + + + + +III + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Some Good Taste Still Exists in France + + +My dear friend, is it possible for you to believe that the sight of a +young man gives me pleasure? Your senses deceive you when it comes to +others. I have forgotten all but my friends. If the name "doctor" had +not reassured me, I should have replied by the Abbé de Hautefeuille, +and your English would never have heard of me. They would have been +told at my door that I was not at home, and I would have received your +letter, which gave me more pleasure than anything else. + +What a fancy to want good wine, and how unfortunate that I can not say +I was successful in getting it! M. de L'Hermitage will tell you as +well as I, that de Gourville never leaves his room, is indifferent to +taste of any kind, is always a good friend, but his friends do not +trespass upon his friendship for fear of worrying him. After that, if, +by any insinuation I can make, and which I do not now foresee, I can +use my knowledge of wine to procure you some, do not doubt that I will +avail myself of it. + +M. de Tallard was one of my former friends, but state affairs place +great men above trifles. I am told that the Abbé Dubois will go to +England with him. He is a slim little man who, I am sure, will please +you. + +I have twenty letters of yours, and they are read with admiration by +our little circle, which is proof that good taste still exists in +France. I am charmed with a country where you do not fear ennui, and +you will be wise if you think of nobody but yourself, not that the +principle is false with you: that you can no longer please others. + +I have written to M. Morelli, and if I find in him the skill you say, +I shall consider him a true physician. + + + + +XIV + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Superiority of the Pleasures of the Stomach + + +I have never read a letter which contained so much common sense as +your last one. You eulogize the stomach so highly, that it would be +shameful to possess an intelligent mind without also having a good +stomach. I am indebted to the Abbé Dubois for having sounded my +praises to you in this respect. + +At eighty-eight years of age, I can eat oysters every morning for +breakfast. I dine well and sup fairly well. The world makes heroes of +men with less merit than mine. + +Qu'on ait plus de bien, de crédit, +Plus de vertu, plus de conduite, +Je n'en aurai point de dépit, +Qu'un autre me passe en mérite +Sur le goût et sur l'appétit, +C'est l'avantage qui m'irrite. +L'estomac est le plus grand bien, +Sans lui les autres ne sont rien. +Un grand coeur veut tout entreprendre, +Un grand esprit veut tout comprendre; +Les droits de l'estomac sont de bien digérer; +Et dans les sentiments que me donne mon âge, +La beauté de l'esprit, la grandeur du courage, +N'ont rien qu'à se vertu l'on puisse comparer. + +(Let others more riches and fame, +More virtue and morals possess, +'Twill kindle no envious flame; +But to make my merit seem less +In taste, appetite, is, I claim, +An outrageous thing to profess. +The stomach's the greatest of things, +All else to us nothing brings. +A great heart would all undertake, +A great soul investigate, +But the law of the stomach is good things to digest, +And the glories which are at my age the delight, +True beauty of mind, of courage the height, +Are nothing unless by its virtue they're blest.) + +When I was young I admired intellect more than anything else, and was +less considerate of the interests of the body than I should have been; +to-day, I am remedying the error I then held, as much as possible, +either by the use I am making of it, or by the esteem and friendship I +have for it. + +You were of the same opinion. The body was something in your youth, +now you are wholly concerned with the pleasures of the mind. I do not +know whether you are right in placing so high an estimate upon it. We +read little that is worth remembering, and we hear little advice that +is worth following. However degenerate may be the senses of the age at +which I am living, the impressions which agreeable objects make upon +them appear to me to be so much more acute, that we are wrong to +mortify them. Perhaps it is a jealousy of the mind which deems the +part played by the senses better than its own. + +M. Bernier, the handsomest philosopher I have ever known (handsome +philosopher is seldom used, but his figure, shape, manner, +conversation and other traits have made him worthy of the epithet), M. +Bernier, I say, in speaking of the senses, said to me one day: + +"I am going to impart a confidence that I would not give Madame de la +Sablière, even to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whom I regard as a +superior being. I tell you in confidence, that abstinence from +pleasures appears to me to be a great sin." + +I was surprised at the novelty of the idea, and it did not fail to +make an impression upon my mind. Had he extended his idea, he might +have made me a convert to his doctrine. + +Continue your friendship which has never faltered, and which is +something rare in relations that have existed as long as ours. + + + + +XV + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Let the Heart Speak Its Own Language + + +I learn with pleasure that my soul is dearer to you than my body and +that your common sense is always leading you upward to better things. +The body, in fact, is little worthy of regard, and the soul has always +some light which sustains it, and renders it sensible of the memory of +a friend whose absence has not effaced his image. + +I often tell the old stories in which d'Elbène, de Charleval, and the +Chevalier de Riviere cheer up the "moderns." You are brought in at the +most interesting points, but as you are also a modern, I am on my +guard against praising you too highly in the presence of the +Academicians, who have declared in favor of the "ancients." + +I have been told of a musical prologue, which I would very much like +to hear at the Paris theater. The "Beauty" who is its subject would +strike with envy every woman who should hear it. All our Helens have +no right to find a Homer, and always be goddesses of beauty. Here I am +at the top, how am I to descend? + +My very dear friend, would it not be well to permit the heart to +speak its own language? I assure you, I love you always. Do not change +your ideas on that point, they have always been in my favor, and may +this mental communication, which some philosophers believe to be +supernatural, last forever. + +I have testified to M. Turretin, the joy I should feel to be of some +service to him. He found me among my friends, many of whom deemed him +worthy of the praise you have given him. If he desires to profit by +what is left of our honest Abbés in the absence of the court, he will +be treated like a man you esteem. I read him your letter with +spectacles, of course, but they did me no harm, for I preserved my +gravity all the time. If he is amorous of that merit which is called +here "distinguished," perhaps your wish will be accomplished, for +every day, I meet with this fine phrase as a consolation for my +losses. + +I know that you would like to see La Fontaine in England, he is so +little regarded in Paris, his head is so feeble. 'Tis the destiny of +poets, of which Tasso and Lucretius are evidence. I doubt whether +there is any love philter that could affect La Fontaine, he has never +been a lover of women unless they were able to foot the bills. + + + + +XVI + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +The Memory of Youth + + +I was handed in December, the letter you wrote me October 14. It is +rather old, but good things are always acceptable, however late they +may be in reaching us. You are serious, therefore, you please. You add +a charm to Seneca, who does not usually possess any. You call yourself +old when you possess all the graces, inclinations, and spirit of +youth. + +I am troubled with a curiosity which you can satisfy: When you +remember your past, does not the memory of your youth suggest certain +ideas as far removed from languor and sloth as from the excitement of +passion? Do you not feel in your soul a secret opposition to the +tranquillity which you fancy your spirit has acquired? + +Mais aimer et vous voir aimée +Est une douce liaison, +Que dans notre coeur s'est formée +De concert avec la raison. +D'une amoureuse sympathie, +Il faut pour arrêter le cours +Arrêter celui de nos jours; +Sa fin est celle de la vie. +Puissent les destins complaisants, +Vous donner encore trente ans +D'amour et de philosophie. + +(To love and be loved +Is a concert sweet, +Which in your heart is formed +Cemented with reason meet. +Of a loving concord, +To stop the course, +Our days must end perforce, +And death be the last record. +May the kind fates give +You thirty years to live, +With wisdom and love in accord.) + +I wish you a happy New Year, a day on which those who have nothing +else to give, make up the deficiency in wishes. + + + + +XVII + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +"I Should Have Hanged Myself" + + +Your letter filled with useless yearnings of which I thought myself +incapable. "The days are passing," as said the good man of Yveteaux, +"in ignorance and sloth; these days destroy us and take from us the +things to which we are attached." You are cruelly made to prove this. + +You told me long ago that I should die of reflections. I try not to +make any more, and to forget on the morrow the things I live through +today. Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of at one time +than at another. Be that as it may, had I been proposed such a life I +should have hanged myself. We hold on to an ugly body, however, as +something agreeable; we love to feel comfort and ease. Appetite is +something I still enjoy. Would to Heaven I could try my stomach with +yours, and talk of the old friends we have known, the memory of whom +gives me more pleasure than the presence of many people I now meet. +There is something good in all that, but to tell you the truth, there +is no comparison. + +M. de Clerambault often asks me if he resembles his father in mental +attainments. "No," I always answer him, but I hope from his +presumption that he believes this "no" to be of advantage to him, and +perhaps there are some who would have so considered it. What a +comparison between the present epoch and that through which we have +passed! + +You are going to write Madame Sandwich, but I believe she has gone to +the country. She knows all about your sentiment for her. She will tell +you more news about this country than I, having gauged and +comprehended everything. She knows all my haunts and has found means +of making herself perfectly at home. + + + + +XVIII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Life Is Joyous When It Is Without Sorrow + + +The very last letter I receive from Mademoiselle de l'Enclos always +seems to me to be better than the preceding ones. It is not because +the sentiment of present pleasure dims the memory of the past, but the +true reason is, your mind is becoming stronger and more fortified +every day. + +If it were the same with the body as with the mind, I should badly +sustain this stomach combat of which you speak. I wanted to make a +trial of mine against that of Madame Sandwich, at a banquet given by +Lord Jersey. I was not the vanquished. + +Everybody knows the spirit of Madame Sandwich; I see her good taste in +the extraordinary esteem she has for you. I was not overcome by the +praises she showered upon you, any more than I was by my appetite. You +belong to every nation, esteemed alike in London as in Paris. You +belong to every age of the world, and when I say that you are an honor +to mine, youth will immediately name you to give luster to theirs. +There you are, mistress of the present and of the past. May you have +your share of the right to be so considered in the future! I have not +reputation in view, for that is assured to all time, the one thing I +regard as the most essential is life, of which eight days are worth +more than centuries of post mortem glory. + +If any one had formerly proposed to you to live as you are now living, +you would have hanged yourself! (The expression pleases me.) However, +you are satisfied with ease and comfort after having enjoyed the +liveliest emotions. + +L'esprit vous satisfait, ou du moins vous console: +Mais on préférerait de vivre jeune et folle, +Et laisser aux vieillards exempts de passions +La triste gravité de leurs reflexions. + +(Mental joys satisfy you, at least they console, +But a young jolly life we prefer on the whole, +And to old chaps, exempt from passion's sharp stings, +Leave the sad recollections of former good things.) + +Nobody can make more of youth than I, and as I am holding to it by +memory, I am following your example, and fit in with the present as +well as I know how. + +Would to Heaven, Madame Mazarin had been of your opinion! She would +still be living, but she desired to die the beauty of the world. + +Madame Sandwich is leaving for the country, and departs admired in +London as she is in Paris. + +Live, Ninon, life is joyous when it is without sorrow. + +I pray you to forward this note to M. l'Abbé de Hautefeuille, who is +with Madame la Duchesse de Bouillon. I sometimes meet the friends of +M. l'Abbé Dubois, who complain that they are forgotten. Assure him of +my humble regards. + +Translator's Note--The above was the last letter Saint-Evremond ever +wrote Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and with the exception of one more +letter to his friend, Count Magalotti, Councillor of State to His +Royal Highness the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he never wrote any other, +dying shortly afterward at the age of about ninety. His last letter +ends with this peculiar Epicurean thought in poetry: + +Je vis éloigné de la France, +Sans besoins et sans abondance, +Content d'un vulgaire destin; +J'aime la vertu sans rudesse, +J'aime le plaisir sans mollesse, +J'aime la vie, et n'en crains pas la fin. + +(I am living far away from France, +No wants, indeed, no abundance, +Content to dwell in humble sphere; +Virtue I love without roughness, +Pleasures I love without softness, +Life, too, whose end I do not fear.) + + + + +DOCTRINE OF EPICURUS + +EXPLAINED BY + +MARSHAL DE SAINT-EVREMOND + +IN A LETTER TO + +THE MODERN LEONTIUM + +(NINON DE L'ENCLOS) + + + + +TO THE MODERN LEONTIUM + +(NINON DE L'ENCLOS) + + +Being the moral doctrine of the philosopher Epicurus as applicable to +modern times, it is an elucidation of the principles advocated by that +philosopher, by Charles de Saint-Evremond, Maréchal of France, a great +philosopher, scholar, poet, warrior, and profound admirer of +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. He died in exile in England, and his tomb +may be found in Westminster Abbey, in a conspicuous part of the nave, +where his remains were deposited by Englishmen, who regarded him as +illustrious for his virtues, learning and philosophy. + +He gave the name "Leontium" to Mademoiselle de L'Enclos, and the +letter was written to her under that sobriquet. The reasoning in it +will enable the reader to understand the life and character of Ninon, +inasmuch as it was the foundation of her education, and formed her +character during an extraordinarily long career. It was intended to +bring down to its date, the true philosophical principles of Epicurus, +who appears to have been grossly misunderstood and his doctrines +foully misinterpreted. + +Leontium was an Athenian woman who became celebrated for her taste for +philosophy, particularly for that of Epicurus, and for her close +intimacy with the great men of Athens. She lived during the third +century before the Christian era, and her mode of life was similar to +that of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. She added to great personal beauty, +intellectual brilliancy of the highest degree, and dared to write, a +learned treatise against the eloquent Theophrastus, thereby incurring +the dislike of Cicero, the distinguished orator, and Pliny, the +philosopher, the latter intimating that it might be well for her "to +select a tree upon which to hang herself." Pliny and other +philosophers heaped abuse upon her for daring, as a woman, to do such +an unheard of thing as to write a treatise on philosophy, and +particularly for having the assurance to contradict Theophrastus. + + +The Letter. + +You wish to know whether I have fully considered the doctrines of +Epicurus which are attributed to me? + +I can claim the honor of having done so, but I do not care to claim a +merit I do not possess, and which you will say, ingenuously, does not +belong to me. I labor under a great disadvantage on account of the +numerous spurious treatises which are printed in my name, as though I +were the author of them. Some, though well written, I do not claim, +because they are not of my writing, moreover, among the things I have +written, there are many stupidities. I do not care to take the trouble +of repudiating such things, for the reason that at my age, one hour of +well regulated life, is of more interest and benefit to me than a +mediocre reputation. How difficult it is, you see, to rid one's self +of amour propre! I quit it as an author, and reassume it as a +philosopher, feeling a secret pleasure in manipulating what others are +anxious about. + +The word "pleasure" recalls to mind the name of Epicurus, and I +confess, that of all the opinions of the philosophers concerning the +supreme good, there are none which appear to me to be so reasonable as +his. + +It would be useless to urge reasons, a hundred times repeated by the +Epicureans, that the love of pleasure and the extinction of pain, are +the first and most natural inclinations remarked in all men; that +riches, power, honor, and virtue, contribute to our happiness, but +that the enjoyment of pleasure, let us say, voluptuousness, to include +everything in a word, is the veritable aim and end whither tend all +human acts. This is very clear to me, in fact, self-evident, and I am +fully persuaded of its truth. + +However, I do not know very well in what the pleasure, or +voluptuousness of Epicurus consisted, for I never saw so many +different opinions of any one as those of the morals of this +philosopher. Philosophers, and even his own disciples, have condemned +him as sensual and indolent; magistrates have regarded his doctrines +as pernicious to the public; Cicero, so just and so wise in his +opinions, Plutarch, so much esteemed for his fair judgments, were not +favorable to him, and so far as Christianity is concerned, the Fathers +have represented him to be the greatest and the most dangerous of all +impious men. So much for his enemies; now for his partisans: + +Metrodorus, Hermachus, Meneceus, and numerous others, who +philosophize according to his school, have as much veneration as +friendship for him personally. Diogenes Laertes could not have written +his life to better advantage for his reputation. Lucretius adored him. +Seneca, as much of an enemy of the sect as he was, spoke of him in the +highest terms. If some cities held him in horror, others erected +statues in his honor, and if, among the Christians, the Fathers have +condemned him, Gassendi and Bernier approve his principles. + +In view of all these contrary authorities, how can the question be +decided? Shall I say that Epicurus was a corruptor of good morals, on +the faith of a jealous philosopher, of a disgruntled disciple, who +would have been delighted, in his resentment, to go to the length of +inflicting a personal injury? Moreover, had Epicurus intended to +destroy the idea of Providence and the immortality of the soul, is it +not reasonable to suppose that the world would have revolted against +so scandalous a doctrine, and that the life of the philosopher would +have been attacked to discredit his opinions more easily? + +If, therefore, I find it difficult to believe what his enemies and the +envious have published against him, I should also easily credit what +his partisans have urged in his defence. + +I do not believe that Epicurus desired to broach a voluptuousness +harsher than the virtue of the Stoics. Such a jealousy of austerity +would appear to me extraordinary in a voluptuary philosopher, from +whatever point of view that word may be considered. A fine secret +that, to declaim against a virtue which destroys sentiment in a sage, +and establishes one that admits of no operation. + +The sage, according to the Stoics, is a man of insensible virtue; that +of the Epicureans, an immovable voluptuary. The former suffers pain +without having any pain; the latter enjoys voluptuousness without +being voluptuous--a pleasure without pleasure. With what object in +view, could a philosopher who denied the immortality of the soul, +mortify the senses? Why divorce the two parties composed of the same +elements, whose sole advantage is in a concert of union for their +mutual pleasure? I pardon our religious devotees, who diet on herbs, +in the hope that they will obtain an eternal felicity, but that a +philosopher, who knows no other good than that to be found in this +world, that a doctor of voluptuousness should diet on bread and water, +to reach sovereign happiness in this life, is something my +intelligence refuses to contemplate. + +I am surprised that the voluptuousness of such an Epicurean is not +founded upon the idea of death, for, considering the miseries of life, +his sovereign good must be at the end of it. Believe me, if Horace and +Petronius had viewed it as painted, they would never have accepted +Epicurus as their master in the science of pleasure. The piety for the +gods attributed to him, is no less ridiculous than the mortification +of the senses. These slothful gods, of whom there was nothing to be +hoped or feared; these impotent gods who did not deserve the labor and +fatigue attendant upon their worship! + +Let no one say that worshipers went to the temple through fear of +displeasing the magistrates, and of scandalizing the people, for they +would have scandalized them less by refusing to assist in their +worship, than shocked them by writings which destroyed the established +gods, or at least ruined the confidence of the people in their +protection. + +But you ask me: What is your opinion of Epicurus? You believe neither +his friends nor his enemies, neither his adversaries nor his +partisans. What is the judgment you have formed? + +I believe Epicurus was a very wise philosopher, who at times and on +certain occasions loved the pleasure of repose or the pleasure of +movement. From this difference in the grade of voluptuousness has +sprung all the reputation accorded him. Timocrates and his other +opponents, attacked him on account of his sensual pleasures; those who +defended him, did not go beyond his spiritual voluptuousness. When the +former denounced him for the expense he was at in his repasts, I am +persuaded that the accusation was well founded. When the latter +expatiated upon the small quantity of cheese he required to have +better cheer than usual, I believe they did not lack reason. When they +say he philosophized with Leontium, they say well; when they say that +Epicurus diverted himself with her, they do not lie. According to +Solomon, there is a time to laugh and a time to weep; according to +Epicurus, there is a time to be sober and a time to be sensual. To go +still further than that, is a man uniformly voluptuous all his life? + +Religiously speaking, the greatest libertine is sometimes the most +devout; in the study of wisdom, the most indulgent in pleasures +sometimes become the most austere. For my own part, I view Epicurus +from a different standpoint in youth and health, than when old and +infirm. + +Ease and tranquillity, these comforts of the infirm and slothful, can +not be better expressed than in his writings. Sensual voluptuousness +is not less well explained by Cicero. I know that nothing is omitted +either to destroy or elude it, but can conjecture be compared with the +testimony of Cicero, who was intimately acquainted with the Greek +philosophers and their philosophy? It would be better to reject the +inequality of mind as an inconstancy of human nature. + +Where exists the man so uniform of temperament, that he does not +manifest contrarieties in his conversation and actions? Solomon merits +the name of sage, as much as Epicure for less, and he belied himself +equally in his sentiments and conduct. Montaigne, when still young, +believed it necessary to always think of death in order to be always +ready for it. Approaching old age, however, he recanted, so he says, +being willing to permit nature to gently guide him, and teach him how +to die. + +M. Bernier, the great partisan of Epicurus, avows to-day, that "After +philosophizing for fifty years, I doubt things of which I was once +most assured." + +All objects have different phases, and the mind which is in perpetual +motion, views them from different aspects as they revolve before it. +Hence, it may be said, that we see the same thing under different +aspects, thinking at the same time that we have discovered something +new. Moreover, age brings great changes in our inclinations, and with +a change of inclination often comes a change of opinion. Add, that the +pleasures of the senses sometimes give rise to contempt for mental +gratifications as too dry and unproductive and that the delicate and +refined pleasures of the mind, in their turn, scorn the voluptuousness +of the senses as gross. So, no one should be surprised that in so +great a diversity of aspects and movements, Epicurus, who wrote more +than any other philosopher, should have treated the same subjects in a +different manner according as he had perceived them from different +points of view. + +What avails this general reasoning to show that he might have been +sensible to all kinds of pleasure? Let him be considered according to +his relations with the other sex, and nobody will believe that he +spent so much time with Leontium and with Themista for the sole +purpose of philosophizing. But if he loved the enjoyment of +voluptuousness, he conducted himself like a wise man. Indulgent to the +movements of nature, opposed to its struggles, never mistaking +chastity for a virtue, always considering luxury as a vice, he +insisted upon sobriety as an economy of the appetite, and that the +repasts in which one indulged should never injure him who partook. His +motto was: "Sic praesentibus voluptatibus utaris ut futuris non +noceas." + +He disentangled pleasures from the anxieties which precede, and the +disgust which follows them. When he became infirm and suffered pain, +he placed the sovereign good in ease and rest, and wisely, to my +notion, from the condition he was in, for the cessation of pain is the +felicity of those who suffer it. + +As to tranquillity of mind, which constitutes another part of +happiness, it is nothing but a simple exemption from anxiety or worry. +But, whoso can not enjoy agreeable movements is happy in being +guaranteed from the sensations of pain. + +After saying this much, I am of the opinion that ease and tranquillity +constituted the sovereign good for Epicurus when he was infirm and +feeble. For a man who is in a condition to enjoy pleasures, I believe +that health makes itself felt by something more active than ease, or +indolence, as a good disposition of the soul demands something more +animated than will permit a state of tranquillity. We are all living +in the midst of an infinity of good and evil things, with senses +capable of being agreeably affected by the former and injured by the +latter. Without so much philosophy, a little reason will enable us to +enjoy the good as deliciously as possible and accommodate ourselves to +the evil as patiently as we can. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Life, Letters, and Epicurean +Philosophy of Ninon de L'Enclos, the Celebrated Beauty of the +Seventeenth Century, by Robinson [and] Overton, ed. and translation. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10665 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Life, Letters, and Epicurean Philosophy of Ninon de L'Enclos, + the Celebrated Beauty of the Seventeenth Century + +Author: Robinson [and] Overton, ed. and translation. + +Release Date: January 10, 2004 [EBook #10665] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINON DE L'ENCLOS *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, Wilelmina Malliere and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +LIFE, LETTERS + +AND + +EPICUREAN PHILOSOPHY + +OF + +NINON + +DE L'ENCLOS + +The Celebrated Beauty of the Seventeenth Century + + + +ROBINSON--OVERTON + + + + +1903 + + + + +CONTENTS + +LIFE OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +CHAPTER I + +Ninon de l'Enclos as a Standard + +CHAPTER II + +Considered as a Parallel + +CHAPTER III + +Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos + +CHAPTER IV + +The Morals of the Period + +CHAPTER V + +Ninon and Count de Coligny + +CHAPTER VI + +The "Birds" of the Tournelles + +CHAPTER VII + +Effect of Her Mother's Death + +CHAPTER VIII + +Her Increasing Popularity + +CHAPTER IX + +Ninon's Friendships + +CHAPTER X + +Some of Ninon's Lovers + +CHAPTER XI + +Ninon's Lovers (Continued) + +CHAPTER XII + +The Villarceaux Affair + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Marquis de Sévigné + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Family Tragedy + +CHAPTER XV + +Ninon's Bohemian Environments + +CHAPTER XVI + +A Remarkable Old Age + + + + +LETTERS TO THE MARQUIS DE SÉVIGNÉ + + +INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS +I--A Hazardous Undertaking +II--Why Love Is Dangerous +III--Why Love Grows Cold +IV--The Spice of Love +V--Love and Temper +VI--Certain Maxims Concerning Love +VII--Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo from Men +VIII--The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause +IX--Love Is a Natural Inclination +X--The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's Nature +XI--The Distinction Between Love and Friendship +XII--A Man in Love Is an Amusing Spectacle +XIII--Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love +XIV--Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in Love +XV--The Hidden Motives of Love +XVI--How to Be Victorious in Love +XVII--Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation +XVIII--When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of It +XIX--Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy +XX--The Half-way House to Love +XXI--The Comedy of Contrariness +XXII--Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to Love +XXIII--Two Irreconcilable Passions in Woman +XXIV--An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable +XXV--Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome +XXVI--Love Demands Freedom of Action +XXVII--The Heart Needs Constant Employment +XXVIII--Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance +XXIX--The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal +XXX--When Resistance is Only a Pretence +XXXI--The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la Sablière +XXXII--The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart +XXXIII--A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with Love +XXXIV--Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder +XXXV--The Heart Should Be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano +XXXVI--Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women +XXXVII--The Allurements of Stage Women +XXXVIII--Varieties of Resistance Are Essential +XXXIX--The True Value of Compliments Among Women +XL--Oratory and Fine Phrases Do Not Breed Love +XLI--Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor +XLII--Surface Indications in Women Are Not Always Guides +XLIII--Women Demand Respect +XLIV--Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's Opinion +XLV--What Favors Men Consider Faults +XLVI--Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice +XLVII--Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals +XLVIII--Friendship Must Be Firm +XLIX--Constancy Is a Virtue Among Narrow Minded +L--Some Women Are Very Cunning +LI--The Parts Men and Women Play +LII--Love Is a Traitor with Sharp Claws +LIII--Old Age Not a Preventive Against Attack +LIV--A Shrewd But Not an Unusual Scheme +LV--A Happy Ending + + * * * * * + +CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN LORD SAINT-EVREMOND AND NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +I--Lovers and Gamblers Have Something in Common +II--It Is Sweet to Remember Those We Have Loved +III--Wrinkles Are a Mark of Wisdom +IV--Near Hopes Are Worth as Much as Those Far Off +V--On the Death of De Charleval +VI--The Weariness of Monotony +VII--After the Death of La Duchesse de Mazarin +VIII--Love Banishes Old Age +IX--Stomachs Demand More Attention Than Minds +X--Why Does Love Diminish After Marriage? +XI--Few People Resist Age +XII--Age Has Some Consolations +XIII--Some Good Taste Still Exists in France +XIV--Superiority of the Pleasures of the Stomach +XV--Let the Heart Speak Its Own Language +XVI--The Memory of Youth +XVII--I Should Have Hanged Myself +XVIII--Life Is Joyous When It Is Without Sorrow +Letter to the Modern Leontium + + + + +NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +LIFE AND LETTERS + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The inner life of the most remarkable woman that ever lived is here +presented to American readers for the first time. Ninon, or +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, as she was known, was the most beautiful +woman of the seventeenth century. For seventy years she held +undisputed sway over the hearts of the most distinguished men of +France; queens, princes, noblemen, renowned warriors, statesmen, +writers, and scientists bowing before her shrine and doing her homage, +even Louis XIV, when she was eighty-five years of age, declaring that +she was the marvel of his reign. + +How she preserved her extraordinary beauty to so great an age, and +attracted to her side the greatest and most brilliant men of the +century, is told in her biography, which has been entirely re-written, +and new facts and incidents added that do not appear in the French +compilations. + +Her celebrated "Letters to the Marquis de Sévigné," newly translated, +and appearing for the first time in the United States, constitute the +most remarkable pathology of the female heart, its motives, objects, +and secret aspirations, ever penned. With unsparing hand she unmasks +the human heart and unveils the most carefully hidden mysteries of +femininity, and every one who reads these letters will see herself +depicted as in a mirror. + +At an early age she perceived the inequalities between the sexes, and +refused to submit to the injustice of an unfair distribution of human +qualities. After due deliberation, she suddenly announced to her +friends: "I notice that the most frivolous things are charged up to +the account of women, and that men have reserved to themselves the +right to all the essential qualities; from this moment I will be a +man." From that time--she was twenty years of age--until her death, +seventy years later, she maintained the character assumed by her, +exercised all the rights and privileges claimed by the male sex, and +created for herself, as the distinguished Abbé de Chateauneauf says, +"a place in the ranks of illustrious men, while preserving all the +grace of her own sex." + + + + +LIFE OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS + + + +CHAPTER I + +Ninon de l'Enclos as a Standard + + +To write the biography of so remarkable a woman as Ninon de l'Enclos +is to incur the animadversions of those who stand upon the dogma, that +whoso violates one of the Ten Commandments is guilty of violating them +all, particularly when one of the ten is conventionally selected as +the essential precept and the most important to be observed. It is +purely a matter of predilection or fancy, perhaps training and +environment may have something to do with it, though judgment is +wanting, but many will have it so, and hence, they arrive at the +opinion that the end of the controversy has been reached. + +Fortunately for the common sense of mankind, there are others who +repudiate this rigid rule and excuse for human conduct; who refuse to +accept as a pattern of morality, the Sabbath breaker, tyrant, +oppressor of the poor, the grasping money maker, or charity monger, +even though his personal chastity may entitle him to canonization. +These insist that although Ninon de l'Enclos may have persistently +transgressed one of the precepts of the Decalogue, she is entitled to +great consideration because of her faithful observance of the others, +not only in their letter but in their spirit, and that her life +contains much that is serviceable to humanity, in many more ways than +if she had studiously preserved her personal purity to the sacrifice +of other qualities, which are of as equal importance as virtues, and +as essential to be observed. + +Another difficulty in the way of establishing her as a model of any +kind, on account of her deliberate violations of the sixth precept of +the Decalogue, is the fact that she was not of noble birth, held no +official position in the government of France, either during the +regency or under the reign of Louis XIII, but was a private person, +retiring in her habits, faithful in her liaisons and friendships, +delicate and refined in her manners and conversations, and eagerly +sought for her wisdom, philosophy, and intellectual ability. + +Had she been a Semiramis, a Messalina, an Agrippina, a Catherine II, +or even a Lady Hamilton, the glamor of her exalted political position +might have covered up a multitude of gross, vulgar practices, +cruelties, barbarities, oppressions, crimes, and acts of +misgovernment, and have concealed her spiritual deformity beneath the +grandeur of her splendid public vices and irregularities. The mantle +of royalty and nobility, like dipsomania, excuses a multitude of sins, +hypocrisy, and injustice, and inclines the world to overlook, +disregard, or even condone, what in them is considered small vices, +eccentricities of genius, but which in a private person are magnified +into mountains of viciousness, and call forth an army of well meaning +but inconsistent people to reform them by brute force. + +It is time to interpose an impasse to the further spread of this +misapprehension of the nature and consequences of human acts, and to +demonstrate the possibility, in humble walks of life, of virtues worth +cultivating, and to erect models out of those who, while they may be +derelict in their ethical duties, are still worthy of being imitated +in other respects. Our standards and patterns of morality are so high +as to be unattainable, not in the details of the practice of virtue, +but in the personnel of the model. Royal and noble blood permeated +with the odor of sanctity; virtuous statesmanship, or proud political +position attained through the rigid observance of the ethical rules of +personal purity, are nothing to the rank and file, the polloi, who can +never hope to reach those elevations in this world; as well expatiate +upon the virtues of Croesus to a man who will never go beyond his +day's wages, or expect the homeless to become ecstatic over the +magnificence of Nabuchodonosor's Babylonian palace. Such extremes +possess no influence over the ordinary mind, they are the mere +vanities of the conceited, the mistakes of moralists. + +The history of Ninon de l'Enclos stands out from the pages of history +as a pre-eminent character, before which all others are stale, +whatever their pretensions through position and grandeur, +notwithstanding that one great quality so much admired in +women--womanly purity--was entirely wanting in her conduct through +life. + +While no apology can be effectual to relieve her memory from that one +stigma, the other virtues connected with it, and which she possessed +in superabundance, deserve a close study, inasmuch as the trend of +modern society is in the direction of the philosophical principles and +precepts, which justified her in pursuing the course of life she +preferred to all others. She was an ardent disciple of the Epicurean +philosophy, but in her adhesion to its precepts, she added that +altruistic unselfishness so much insisted upon at the present day. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Considered as a Parallel + + +The birth of Ninon de l'Enclos was not heralded by salvoes of +artillery, Te Deums, or such other demonstrations of joy as are +attendant upon the arrival on earth of princes and offspring of great +personages. Nevertheless, for the ninety years she occupied the stage +of life, she accomplished more in the way of shaping great national +policies, successful military movements and brilliant diplomatic +successes, than any man or body of men in the seventeenth century. + +In addition to that, her genius left an impress upon music and the +fine arts, an impress so profound that the high standard of excellence +both have attained in our day is due to her efforts in establishing a +solid foundation upon which it was possible to erect a substantial +structure. Moreover, in her hands and under her auspices and guidance, +languages, belles lettres, and rhetoric received an impetus toward +perfection, and raised the French language and its literature, +fiction, poetry and drama, to so high a standard, that its productions +are the models of the twentieth century. + +It was Ninon de l'Enclos whose brilliant mentality and intellectual +genius formed the minds, the souls, the genius, of such master minds +as Saint-Evremond, La Rouchefoucauld, Molière, Scarron, La Fontaine, +Fontenelle, and a host of others in literature and fine arts; the +Great Condé, de Grammont, de Sévigné, and the flower of the chivalry +of France, in war, politics, and diplomacy. Even Richelieu was not +unaffected by her influence. + +Strange power exerted by one frail woman, a woman not of noble birth, +with only beauty, sweetness of disposition, amiability, goodness, and +brilliant accomplishments as her weapons! It was not a case of the +moth and the flame, but the operation of a wise philosophy, the +precepts of which were decently, moderately and carefully inculcated; +a philosophy upon the very edge of which modern society is hanging, +afraid to accept openly, through too much attachment to ancient +doctrines which have drawn man away from happiness and comfort, and +converted him into a bitter pessimism that often leads to despair. + +As has already been suggested, had Ninon de l'Enclos sat upon a +throne, or commanded an army, the pages of history would teem with the +renown of her exploits, and great victories be awarded to her instead +of to those who would have met with defeat without her inspiration. + +Pompey, in his vanity, declared that he could raise an army by +stamping his foot upon the ground, but the raising of Ninon de +l'Enclos' finger could bring all the chivalry of Europe around a +single standard, or at the same gentle signal, cause them to put aside +their arms and forget everything but peace and amity. She dominated +the intellectual geniuses of the long period during which she lived, +and reigned over them as their absolute queen, through the sheer force +of her personal charms, which she never hesitated to bestow upon those +whom she found worthy, and who expressed a desire to possess them, +studiously regulated, however, by the precepts and principles of the +philosophy of Epicurus, which today is rapidly gaining ground in our +social relations through its better understanding and appreciation. + +Her life bears a great resemblance to the histories in which we read +about the most celebrated women of ancient times, who occupied a +middle station between the condition of marriage and prostitution--a +class of women whose Greek name is familiarized to our ears in +translations of Aristophanes. Ninon de l'Enclos was of the order of +the French "hetaerae," and, as by her beauty and her talents, she +attained the first rank in the social class, her name has come down to +posterity with those of Aspasia and Leontium, while the less +distinguished favorites of less celebrated men have shared the common +oblivion, which hides from the memory of men, every degree of +mediocrity, whether of virtue or vice. + +A class of this kind, a status of this singular nature existing +amongst accomplished women, who inspired distinguished men with lofty +ideals, and developed the genius of men who, otherwise, would have +remained in obscurity, can never be uninteresting or uninstructive; +indeed, it must afford matter for serious study. They are prefigures, +or prototypes of the influence that aims to sway mankind at the +present day in government, politics, literature, and the fine arts. + +As a distinguished example of such a class, the most prominent in the +world, in fact, apart from a throne, Ninon de l'Enclos will peculiarly +engage the attention of all who, whether for knowledge or amusement, +are observers of human nature under all its varieties and +circumstances. + +It would be idle to enter upon a historical digression on the state of +female manners in ancient Athens, or in Europe during the last three +centuries. The reader should discard them from his mind when he +peruses the life of Ninon de l'Enclos, and examine her character and +environments from every point of view as a type toward which is +trending modern social conditions. + +At first blush, and to a narrow intellect, an individual woman of the +character of Ninon de l'Enclos would seem hopelessly lost to all +virtue, abandoned by every sense of shame, and irreclaimable to any +feeling of social or private duty. But only at first blush, and to the +most circumscribed of narrow minds, who, fortunately, do not control +the policy of mankind, although occasional disorders here and there +indicate that they are endeavouring to do so. + +A large majority of mankind are of the settled opinion that every +virtue is bound up in that of chastity. Our manners and customs, our +laws, most of our various kinds of religions, our national sentiments +and feelings--all our most serious opinions, as well as our dearest +and best rooted prejudices, forbid the dissevering, in the minds of +women of any class, the ideas of virtue and female honor. That is, +our public opinion is along that line. To raise openly a doubt on this +head, or to disturb, on a point considered so vital, the settled +notions of society, is equally inconsistent with common prudence and +the policy of common honesty; and as tending to such an end, we are +apt to consider all discussion on the subject as at least officiously +incurring danger, without an opportunity of inculcating good. + +But, however strongly we insist upon this opinion for such purposes, +there are others in which it is not useless to relax that severity for +a moment, and to view the question, not through the medium of +sentiment, but with an eye of philosophic impartiality. We are +gradually nearing the point, where it is conceded that in certain +conditions of society, one failing is not wholly incompatible with a +general practice of virtue--a remark to be met with in every homily +since homilies were written, notwithstanding that rigid rule already +alluded to in the previous chapter. + +It is surprising that it has never occurred to any moralist of the +common order, who deals chiefly with such general reflections, to +apply this particular maxim to this particular social status. We +follow the wise precepts of honesty found in Cicero, although we know +that he was, at the time he was writing them, plundering his fellow +men at every opportunity. Our admiration for Bacon's philosophy and +wisdom reaches adulation although he was the "meanest of men," and was +guilty of the most flagrant crimes such as judicial bribery and +political corruption. We read that Aspasia had some great and many +amiable qualities; so too had Ninon de l'Enclos; and it is worthy of +consideration, how far we judge candidly or wisely in condemning such +characters in gross, and treating their virtues as Saint Austin was +wont to deal with those of his heathen adversaries, as no better than +"splendid vices," so unparalleled in their magnitude as to become +virtues by the operation of the law of extremes. There was no law +permitting a man to marry his sister, and there was no law forbidding +King Cambyses to do as he liked. + +Another grave point to be considered is this: The world, as it now +stands, its laws, systems of government, manners and customs, and +social conditions, have been built up on these same "splendid vices," +and whenever they have been tamed into subjection to mediocrity--let +us say to clerical, or ecclesiastical domination;--government, society +and morals have retrograded. The social condition in France during +Ninon de l'Enclos' time, and in England during the reign of Charles +II, is startling evidence of this accusation. Moreover, it is fast +becoming the condition to-day, a fact indicated by the almost +universal demand for a revolution in social ethics, the foundation to +which, for some reason, has become awry, threatening to topple down +the structure erected upon it. Society can see nothing to originate, +an incalculable number of attempts to better human conditions always +proving failures, and worsening the human status. It is dawning upon +the minds of the true lovers of humanity, that there is nothing else +to be done, but to revert to the past to find the key to any possible +reform, and to that past we are edging rapidly, though, it must be +said unwillingly, in the hope and expectation that the old foundations +are possessed of sufficient solidity to support a new or re-modeled +structure. + +The life of Ninon de l'Enclos, upon this very point, furnishes food +for profitable reflection, inasmuch as it gives an insight into the +great results to be obtained by the following of the precepts of an +ancient philosophy which seems to have survived the clash of ages of +intellectual and moral warfare, and to have demonstrated its capacity +to supply defects in segregated dogmatic systems wholly incapable of +any syncretic tendencies. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos + + +Anne de l'Enclos, or "Ninon," as she has always been familiarly called +by the world at large, was born at Paris in 1615. What her parents +were, or what her family, is a matter of little consequence. To all +persons who have attained celebrity over the route pursued by her, +original rank and station are not of the least moment. By force of his +genius in hewing for himself a niche in history, Napoleon was truly +his own ancestor, as it is said he loved to remark pleasantly. So with +Ninon de l'Enclos, the novelty of the career she laid out for herself +to follow, and did follow until the end with unwavering constancy, +justifies us in regarding her as the head of a new line, or dynasty. + +In the case of mighty conquerors, whose path was strewn with violence, +even lust, no one thinks of an ignoble origin as in any manner +derogatory to the eminence; on the contrary, it is considered rather +as matter to be proud of; the idea that out of ignominy, surrounded by +conditions devoid of all decency, justice, and piety, an individual +can elevate himself up to the highest pinnacle of human power and +glory, has always, and will always be regarded as an example to be +followed, and the badge of success stretched to cover the means of +its attainment. This is the universal custom where success has been +attained, the failures being relegated to a well merited oblivion as +unworthy of consideration either as lessons of warning or for any +purpose. Our youth are very properly taught only the lessons of +success. + +It is in evidence that Ninon's father was a gentleman of Touraine and +connected, through his wife, with the family of Abra de Raconis, a +race of no mean repute in the Orleanois, and that he was an +accomplished gentleman occupying a high position in society. Voltaire, +however, declares that Ninon had no claim to a parentage of such +distinction; that the rank of her mother was too obscure to deserve +any notice, and that her father's profession was of no higher dignity +than that of a teacher of the lute. This account is not less likely, +from the remarkable proficiency acquired by Ninon, at an early age, in +the use of that instrument. + +It is equally certain, however, that Ninon's parents were not obscure, +and that her father was a man of many accomplishments, one of which +was his skill as a performer on the lute. A fact which may have +induced Voltaire to mistake one of his talents for his regular +profession. + +Ninon's parents were as opposite in sentiments and disposition as the +Poles of the earth. Madame de l'Enclos was a prudent, pious Christian +mother, who endeavored to inspire her daughter with the same pious +sentiments which pervaded her own heart. The fact is that the mother +attempted to prepare her daughter for a conventual life, a profession +at that period of the highest honor, and one that led to preferment, +not only in religious circles, but in the world of society. At that +time, conventual and monastic dignitaries occupied a prominent place +in the formation of public and private manners and customs, and if not +regarded impeccable, their opinions were always considered valuable in +state matters of the greatest moment, even the security of thrones, +the welfare and peace of nations sometimes depending upon their +wisdom, judgment, and decisions. + +With this laudable object in view, Madame de l'Enclos carefully +trained her daughter in the holy exercises of her religion, to which +she hoped to consecrate her entire life. But the fond mother met with +an impasse, an insurmountable obstacle, in the budding Ninon herself, +who, even in the temples of the Most High, when her parent imagined +her to be absorbed in the contemplation of saintly things, and +imbibing inspiration from her "Hours," the "Lives of the Saints," or +"An Introduction to a Holy Life," a book very much in vogue at that +period, the child would be devouring such profane books as Montaigne, +Scarron's romances and Epicurus, as more in accordance with her trend +of mind. + +Even at the early age of twelve years, she had mastered those authors, +and had laid out a course of life, not in accord with her good +mother's ideas, for it excluded the idea of religion as commonly +understood, and crushed out the sentiment of maternity, that crowning +glory to which nearly all young female children aspire, although in +them, at a tender age, it is instinctive and not based upon knowledge +of its meaning. + +This beginning of Ninon's departure from the beaten path should not be +a matter of surprise, for all the young open their hearts to ideas +that spring from the sentiments and passions, and anticipate in +imagination the parts they are to play in the tragedy or comedy of +life. + +It is this period of life which the moralist and educator justly +contend should be carefully guarded. It is really a concession to +environment, and a tacit argument against radical heredity as the +foundation upon which rest the character and disposition of the adult, +and which is the mainspring of his future moral conduct. It is +impossible to philosophize ourselves out of this sensible position. + +In the case of Ninon, there was her mother, a woman of undoubted +virtue and exemplary piety, following the usual path in the training +of her only child and making a sad failure of it, or at least not +making any impression on the object of her solicitude. This was, +however, not due to the mother's intentions: her training was too weak +to overcome that coming from another quarter. It has been said that +Ninon's father and mother were as opposite as the Poles in character +and disposition, and Ninon was suspended like a pendulum to swing +between two extremes, one of which had to prevail, for there was no +midway stopping place. It may be that the disciple of heredity, the +opponent of environment will perceive in the result a strong argument +in favor of his view of humanity. Be that as it may, Ninon swung away +from the extreme of piety represented by her mother, and was caught at +the other extreme by the less intellectually monotonous ideas of her +father. There was no mental conflict in the young mind, nothing +difficult; on the contrary, she accepted his ideas as pleasanter and +less conducive to pain and discomfort. Too young to reason, she +perceived a flowery pathway, followed it, and avoided the thorny one +offered her by her mother. + +Monsieur de l'Enclos was an Epicurean of the most advanced type. +According to him, the whole philosophy of life, the entire scheme of +human ethics as evolved from Epicurus, could be reduced to the four +following canons: + +First--That pleasure which produces no pain is to be embraced. + +Second--That pain which produces no pleasure is to be avoided. + +Third--That pleasure is to be avoided which prevents a greater +pleasure, or produces a greater pain. + +Fourth--That pain is to be endured which averts a greater pain, or +secures a greater pleasure. + +The last canon is the one that has always appealed to the religious +sentiments, and it is the one which has enabled an army of martyrs to +submit patiently to the most excruciating torments, to reach the +happiness of Paradise, the pleasure contemplated as a reward for +enduring the frightful pain. The reader can readily infer, however, +from his daily experiences with the human family, that this +construction is seldom put upon this canon, the world at large, +viewing it from the Epicurean interpretation, which meant earthly +pleasures, or the purely sensual enjoyments. It is certain that +Ninon's father did not construe any of these canons according to the +religious idea, but followed the commonly accepted version, and +impressed them upon his young daughter's mind in all their various +lights and shades. + +Imbibing such philosophy from her earliest infancy, the father taking +good care to press them deep into her plastic mind, it is not +astonishing that Ninon should discard the more distasteful fruits to +be painfully harvested by following her mother's tuition, and accept +the easily gathered luscious golden fruit offered her by her father. +Like all children and many adults, the glitter and the tinsel of the +present enjoyment were too powerful and seductive to be resisted, or +to be postponed for a problematic pleasure. + +The very atmosphere which surrounded the young girl, and which she +soon learned to breathe in deep, pleasurable draughts, was surcharged +with the intoxicating oxygen of freedom of action, liberality, and +unrestrained enjoyment. While still very young she was introduced into +a select society of the choicest spirits of the age and speedily +became their idol, a position she continued to occupy without +diminution for over sixty years. No one of all these men of the world +had ever seen so many personal graces united to so much +intellectuality and good taste. Ninon's form was as symmetrical, +elegant and yielding as a willow; her complexion of a dazzling white, +with large sparkling eyes as black as midnight, and in which reigned +modesty and love, and reason and voluptuousness. Her teeth were like +pearls, her mouth mobile and her smile most captivating, resistless +and adorable. She was the personification of majesty without pride or +haughtiness, and possessed an open, tender and touching countenance +upon which shone friendship and affection. Her voice was soft and +silvery, her arms and hands superb models for a sculptor, and all her +movements and gestures manifested an exquisite, natural grace which +made her conspicuous in the most crowded drawing-room. As she was in +her youth, so she continued to be until her death at the age of ninety +years, an incredible fact but so well attested by the gravest and most +reliable writers, who testify to the truth of it, that there is no +room for doubt. Ninon attributed it not to any miracle, but to her +philosophy, and declared that any one might exhibit the same +peculiarities by following the same precepts. We have it on the most +undoubted testimony of contemporaneous writers, who were intimate with +him, that one of her dearest friends and followers, Saint-Evremond, at +the age of eighty-nine years, inspired one of the famous beauties of +the English Court with an ardent attachment. + +The beauties of her person were so far developed at the age of twelve +years, that she was the object of the most immoderate admiration on +the part of men of the greatest renown, and her beauty is embalmed in +their works either as a model for the world, or she is enshrined in +song, poetry, and romance as the heroine. + +In fact Ninon had as tutors the most distinguished men of the age, who +vied with one another in embellishing her young mind with all the +graces, learning and accomplishments possible for the human mind to +contain. Her native brightness and active mind absorbed everything +with an almost supernatural rapidity and tact, and it was not long +before she became their peer, and her qualities of mind reached out so +far beyond theirs in its insatiable longing, that she, in her turn, +became their tutor, adviser and consoler, as well as their tender +friend. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The Morals of the Period + + +Examples of the precocious talents displayed by Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos are not uncommon in the twentieth century, but the +application she made of them was remarkable and uncommon. Accomplished +in music, learned and proficient in the languages, a philosopher of no +small degree, and of a personal beauty sometimes called "beauté de +diable," she appeared upon the social stage at a time when a new idol +was an imperative necessity for the salvation of moral sanity, and the +preservation of some remnants of personal decency in the sexual +relations. + +Cardinal Richelieu had just succeeded in consolidating the usurpations +of the royal prerogatives on the rights of the nobility and the +people, which had been silently advancing during the preceding reigns, +and was followed by the long period of unexampled misgovernment, which +oppressed and impoverished as well as degraded every rank and every +order of men in the French kingdom, ceasing only with the Revolution. + +The great Cardinal minister had built worse than he had intended, it +is to be hoped; for his clerico-political system had practically +destroyed French manhood, and left society without a guiding star to +cement the rope of sand he had spun. Unable to subject the master +minds among the nobility to its domination, ecclesiasticism had +succeeded in destroying them by augmenting royal prerogatives which it +could control with less difficulty. Public maxims of government, +connected as they were with private morals, had debauched the nation, +and plunged it into a depth of degradation out of which Richelieu and +his whole entourage of clerical reformers could not extricate a single +individual. It was a riot of theological morality. + +The whole body of the French nobility and the middle class of citizens +were reduced to a servile attendance on the court, as the only means +of advancement and reward. Every species of industry and merit in +these classes was sedulously discouraged; and the motive of honorable +competition for honorable things, being withdrawn, no pursuit or +occupation was left them but the frivolous duties, or the degrading +pleasures of the palace. + +Next to the king, the women naturally became the first objects of +their effeminate devotion; and it is difficult to say which were +soonest corrupted by courtiers consummate in the arts of adulation, +and unwearied in their exercise. The sovereign rapidly degenerated +into an accomplished despot, and the women into intriguers and +coquettes. Richelieu had indeed succeeded in subjecting the State to +the rule of the Church, but Ninon was destined to play an important +part in modifying the evils which afflicted society, and at least +elevate its tone. From the methods she employed to effect this +change, it may be suspected that the remedy was equivalent to the +Hanemannic maxim: "Similia similbus curantur," a strange application +of a curative agent in a case of moral decrepitude, however valuable +and effective it may be in physical ailments. + +The world of the twentieth century, bound up as it is in material +progress, refuses to limit its objects and aims to the problematic +enjoyment of the pleasures of Paradise in the great hereafter, or of +suffering with stoicism the pains and misfortunes of this earth as a +means of avoiding the problematic pains of Hell. Future rewards and +punishments are no longer incentives to virtue or right living. The +only drag upon human acts of every kind is now that great political +maxim, the non-observance of which has often deluged the earth with +blood; "Sic utere tuo ut alienum non laedas," which is to say: So use +thine own as not to injure thy neighbor. It is a conventional +principle, one of contract in reality, but it has become a great +doctrine of equity and justice, and it is inculcated by our +educational systems to the exclusion of the purely religious idea, and +the elimination of religious dogma, which tends to oppressive +restraints, is carefully fostered. + +There is another reason why men's minds are impelled away from the +purely sentimental moral doctrines insisted upon by sectarianism, +which is ecclesiasticism run riot, and the higher the education the +deeper we delve into the secret motives of that class of mankind, the +deceptive outward appearances of which dominate the pages of history, +which is, that the greatest and most glorious systems of government, +the wisest and most powerful of rulers, the greatest and most liberal +statesmen, heroes, and conspicuous conquerors, originated in +violations of the Decalogue, and those nations and kingdoms which have +been founded upon strictly ecclesiastical ideas, have all sunk beneath +the shifting sands of time, or have become so degenerate as to be +bywords and objects of derision. + +From the same viewpoint, a strange phenomenon is observable in the +world of literature, arts, and sciences. The brightest, greatest +geniuses, whose works are pointed to with admiration; studied as +models and standards, made the basis of youthful education, imitated, +and even wept over by the sentimental, were, in their private lives, +persons of the most depraved morals. Why this should be the case, it +is impossible even to conjecture, the fact only remaining that it is +so. Perhaps there are so many different standards of morality, that +humanity, weary of the eternal bickering consequent upon the conflicts +entered into for their enforcement, have made for themselves a new +interpretation which they find less difficult to observe, and find +more peace and pleasure in following. + +To take a further step in the same direction, it is curious that in +the lives of the Saints, those who spent their whole earthly existence +in abstinence, works of the severest penance, and mortifications of +the flesh, the tendency of demoniac influence was never in the +direction of Sabbath breaking, profanity, idolatry, robbery, murder +and covetousness, but always exerted itself to the fullest extent of +its power in attacks upon chastity. All other visions were absent in +the hair-shirted, and self-scourgings brought out nothing but sexual +idealities, sensual temptations. The reason for this peculiarity is +not far to seek. What is dominant in the minds always finds egress +when a favorable opportunity is presented, and the very thought of +unchastity as something to be avoided, leads to its contemplation, or +its creation in the form of temptation. The virtue of chastity was the +one law, and its observances and violations were studied from every +point of view, and its numberless permissible and forbidden +limitations expatiated upon to such a degree, that he who escaped them +altogether could well attribute the result to the interposition of +some supernatural power, the protection of some celestial guardian. +One is reminded of the expression of St. Paul: "I had not known lust +had the law not said: thou shalt not covet." Lord Beaconsfield's +opinion was, that excessive piety led to sexual disorders. + +According to Ninon's philosophy, whatever tended to propagate +immoderation in the sexual relations was rigidly eliminated, and +chastity placed upon the same plane and in the same grade as other +moral precepts, to be wisely controlled, regulated, and managed. She +put all her morality upon the same plane, and thereby succeeded in +equalizing corporeal pleasure, so that the entire scale of human acts +produced a harmonious equality of temperament, whence goodness and +virtue necessarily followed, the pathway being unobstructed. + +It is too much to be expected, or even to be hoped for, that there +will ever be any unanimity among moral reformers, or any uniformity in +their standards of moral excellence. The educated world of the present +day, reading between the lines of ancient history, and some that is +not so very ancient, see ambition for place and power as the moving +cause, the inspiration behind the great majority of revolutions, and +they have come to apply the same construction to the great majority of +moral agitations and movements for the reform of morals and the +betterment of humanity, with pecuniary reward or profit, however, +added as the sine qua non of maintaining them. + +Cure the agitation by removing the occasion for it, and Othello's +occupation would be gone; hence, the agitation continues. As an +eminent theologian declared with a conviction that went home to a +multitude, at the Congress of Religions, when the Columbian Exposition +was in operation: + +"If all the religions in the world are to be merged into one, who, or +what will support the clergy that will be deprived of their salaries +by the change in management?" + +The Golden Calf and Aaron were there, but where was the angry Moses? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Ninon and Count de Coligny + + +It was impossible for a maiden trained in the philosophy of Epicurus, +and surrounded by a brilliant society who assiduously followed its +precepts to avoid being caught in the meshes of the same net spread +for other women. Beloved and even idolized on all sides, as an object +that could be worshiped without incurring the displeasure of +Richelieu, who preferred his courtiers to amuse themselves with women +and gallantries rather than meddle with state affairs, and being +disposed both through inclination and training to accept the +situation, Ninon felt the sentiments of the tender passion, but +philosophically waited for a worthy object. + +That object appeared in the person of the young Gaspard, Count de +Coligny, afterwards Duc de Chatillon, who paid her assiduous court. +The result was that Ninon conceived a violent passion for the Count, +which she could not resist, in fact did not care to resist, and she +therefore yielded to the young man of distinguished family, charming +manners, and a physically perfect specimen of manhood. + +It is alleged by Voltaire and repeated by Cardinal de Retz, that the +early bloom of Ninon's charms was enjoyed by Richelieu, but if this be +true, it is more than likely that Ninon submitted through policy and +not from any affection for the great Cardinal. It is certain, however, +that the great statesman's attention had been called to her growing +influence among the French nobility, and that he desired to control +her actions if not to possess her charms. She was a tool that he +imagined he could utilize to keep his rebellious nobles in his leash. +Abbé Raconis, Ninon's uncle, and the Abbé Boisrobert, her friend, who +stood close to the Cardinal, had suggested to His Eminence that the +charms of the new beauty could be used to advantage in state affairs, +and he accordingly sent for her at first through curiosity, but when +he had seen her he hoped to control her for his personal benefit. + +Although occupied in vast projects which his great genius and activity +always conducted to a happy issue, the great man had not renounced the +affections of his human nature, nor his intellectual gratifications. +He aimed at everything, and did not consider anything beneath his +dignity. Every day saw him engaged in cultivating a taste for +literature and art, and some moments of every day were set apart for +social gallantries. When it came to the art of pleasing and attracting +women, we have the word of Cardinal de Retz for it, that he was not +always successful. Perhaps it is only inferior minds who possess the +art and the genius of seduction. + +The intriguing Abbé, in order to bring Ninon under the influence of +his master, and to charm her with the great honor done her by a man +upon whom were fixed the eyes of all Europe, prepared a series of +gorgeous fêtes, banquets and entertainments at the palace at Rueil. +But Ninon was not in the least overwhelmed, and refused to hear the +sighs of the great man. Hoping to inspire jealousy, he affected to +love Marion de Lormes, a proceeding which gave Ninon great pleasure as +it relieved her from the importunities of the Cardinal. The end of it +was, that Richelieu gave up the chase and left Ninon in peace to +follow her own devices in her own way. + +Whatever may have been the relations between Ninon and Cardinal +Richelieu, it is certain that the Count de Coligny was her first +sentimental attachment, and the two lovers, in the first intoxication +of their love, swore eternal constancy, a process common to all new +lovers and believed possible to maintain. It was not long, however, +before Ninon perceived that the first immoderate transports of love +gradually lost their activity, and by applying the precepts of her +philosophy to explain the phenomenon, came to regard love by its +effects, as a blind mechanical movement, which it was the policy of +men to ennoble according to the conventional rules of decency and +honor, to the exclusion of its original meaning. + +After coldly reasoning the matter out to its only legitimate +conclusion, she tore off the mask covering a metaphysical love, which +could not reach or satisfy the light of intelligence or the sentiments +and emotions of the heart, and which appeared to her to possess as +little reality as the enchanted castles, marvels of magic, and +monsters depicted in poetry and romance. To her, love finally became a +mere thirst, and a desire for pleasure to be gratified by indulgence +like all other pleasure. The germ of philosophy already growing in her +soul, found nothing in this discovery that was essentially unnatural; +on the contrary, it was essentially natural. It was clear to her +logical mind, that a passion like love produced among men different +effects according to different dispositions, humors, temperament, +education, interest, vanity, principles, or circumstances, without +being, at the same time, founded upon anything more substantial than a +disguised, though ardent desire of possession, the essential of its +existence, after which it vanished as fire disappears through lack of +fuel. Dryden, the celebrated English poetic and literary genius, +reaches the same opinion in his Letters to Clarissa. + +Having reached this point in her reasoning, she advanced a step +further, and considered the unequal division of qualities distributed +between the two sexes. She perceived the injustice of it and refused +to abide by it. "I perceive," she declared, "that women are charged +with everything that is frivolous, and that men reserve to themselves +the right to essential qualities. From this moment I shall be a man." + +All this growing out of the ardour of a first love, which is always +followed by the lassitude of satiety, so far from causing Ninon any +tears of regret, nerved her up to a philosophy different from that of +other women, and makes it impossible to judge her by the same +standard. She can not be considered a woman subject to a thousand +fantasies and whims, a thousand trifling concealed proprieties of +position and custom. Her morals became the same as those of the wisest +and noblest men of the period in which she lived, and raised her to +their rank instead of maintaining her in the category of the +intriguing coquettes of her age. + +It is not improbable that her experience of the suffering attendant +upon the decay of such attachments, a suffering alluded to by those +who contemplate only the intercourse of the sexes through the medium +of poetry and sentiment, had considerable influence in determining her +future conduct. At an early age, following upon her liaison with Count +Coligny, she adopted the determination she adhered to during the rest +of her life, of retaining so much only of the female character as was +forced upon her by nature and the insuperable laws of society. Acting +on this principle, her society was chiefly composed of persons of her +adopted sex, of whom the most celebrated of their time made her house +a constant place of meeting. + +A curious incident in her relations with Count de Coligny was her +success in persuading him to adjure the errors of the Huguenots and +return to the Roman Catholic Church. She had no religious +predilections, feeling herself spiritually secure in her philosophic +principles, but sought only his welfare and advancement. His obstinacy +was depriving him of the advantages due his birth and personal merit. +Considering that Ninon was scarcely sixteen years of age, respiring +nothing but love and pleasure, to effect by tenderness and the +persuasive strength of her reasoning powers, such a change in a man +so obstinate as the Count de Coligny, in an obstinate and excessively +bigoted age, was something unique in the history of lovers of that +period. Women then cared very little for religious principles, and +rarely exerted themselves in advancing the cause of the dominant +religion, much less thought of the spiritual needs of their favorites. +The reverse is the rule in these modern times, when women are the most +ardent and persistent proselytizers of the various sects, a custom +which recalls the remark of a distinguished lawyer who failed to +recover any assets from a notorious bankrupt he was pursuing for the +defrauded creditors: "This man has everything in his wife's name--even +his religion." + +Ninon's disinterested counsel prevailed, and the Count afterward +abjured his errors, becoming the Duc de Chatillon, Marquis d'Andelot, +and died a lieutenant general, bravely fighting for his country, at +Charenton. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The "Birds" of the Tournelles + + +Having decided upon her career, Ninon converted her property into +prudent and safe securities, and purchased a city house in the Rue des +Tournelles au Marais, a locality at that time the center of +fashionable society, and another for a summer residence at Picpusse, +in the environs of Paris. A select society of wits and gallant +chevaliers soon gathered around her, and it required influence as well +as merit to gain an entrance into its ranks. Among this élite were +Count de Grammont, Saint-Evremond, Chapelle, Molière, Fontenelle, and +a host of other no less distinguished characters, most of them +celebrated in literature, arts, sciences, and war. Ninon christened +the society "Oiseaux des Tournelles," an appellation much coveted by +the beaux and wits of Paris, and which distinguished the chosen +company from the less favored gentlemen of the great metropolis. + +Among those who longed for entrance into this charming society of +choice spirits was the Count de Charleval, a polite and accomplished +chevalier, indeed, but of no particular standing as a literary +character. Nothing would do, however, but a song of triumph as a test +of his competency and he accomplished it after much labor and +consumption of midnight oil. Scarron has preserved the first stanza +in his literary works, the others being lost to the literary world, +perhaps with small regret. The sentiments expressed in the first +stanza rescued from oblivion will be sufficient to indicate the +character of the others: + +"Je ne suis plus oiseau des champs, +Mais de ces oiseaux des Tournelles +Qui parlent d'amour en tout temps, +Et qui plaignent les tourterelles +De ne se baiser qu'au printemps." + +Which liberally translated into English will run substantially as +follows: + +No more am I a wild bird on the wing, +But one of the birds of the Towers, who +The love in their hearts always sing, +And pity the poor Turtle Doves that coo +And never kiss only in spring. + +Scarron alludes to the delicacy of the Count's taste and the +refinement of his wit, by saying of him: "The muses brought him up on +blanc mange and chicken broth." + +How Ninon kept together this remarkable coterie can best be understood +by an incident unparalleled in female annals. The Count de Fièsque, +one of the most accomplished nobles of the French court, had it +appears, grown tired of an attachment of long standing between Ninon +and himself, before the passion of the former had subsided. A letter, +containing an account of his change of sentiments, with reasons +therefor, was presented his mistress, while employed at her toilette +in adjusting her hair, which was remarkable for its beauty and +luxuriance, and which she regarded as the apple of her eye. Afflicted +by the unwelcome intelligence, she cut off half of her lovely tresses +on the impulse of the moment, and sent them as her answer to the +Count's letter. Struck by this unequivocal proof of the sincerity of +her devotion to him, the Count returned to his allegiance to a +mistress so devoted, and thenceforward retained it until she herself +wearied of it and desired a change. + +As an illustration of her sterling honesty in money matters and her +delicate manner of ending a liaison, the following anecdote will serve +to demonstrate the hold she was able to maintain upon her admirers. + +M. de Gourville, an intimate friend of Ninon's, adhered in the wars of +the Fronde to the party of the Prince of Condé, one of the "Birds of +the Tournelles." Compelled to quit Paris, to avoid being hanged in +person, as he was in effigy, he divided the care of a large sum of +ready money between Ninon de l'Enclos and the Grand Pénitencier of +Notre Dame. The money was deposited in two caskets. On his return from +exile, he applied to the priest for the return of his money, but to +his astonishment, all knowledge of the deposit was denied, and that if +any such deposit had been made, it was destined for charitable +purposes under the rules of the Pénitencier, and had most probably +been distributed among the poor of Paris. De Gourville protested in +vain, and when he threatened to resort to forcible means, the power +of the church was invoked to compel him to abandon his attempt. So +cruelly disappointed in a man whom all Paris deemed incorruptibly +honest, de Gourville suspected nothing else from Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos. It was absurd to hope for probity in a woman of +reprehensible habits when that virtue was absent in a man who lived a +life of such austerity as the Grand Pénitencier, hence he determined +to abstain from visiting her altogether, lest he might hate the woman +he had so fondly loved. + +Ninon, however, had other designs, and learning that he had returned, +sent him a pressing invitation to call upon her. + +"Ah! Gourville," she exclaimed as soon as he appeared, "a great +misfortune has happened me in consequence of your absence." + +That settled the matter in de Gourville's mind, his money was gone and +he was a pauper. Plunged in mournful reflections, de Gourville dared +not raise his eyes to those of his mistress. But she, mistaking his +agitation, went on hastily: + +"I am sorry if you still love me, for I have lost my love for you, and +though I have found another with whom I am happy, I have not forgotten +you. Here," she continued, turning to her escritoire, "here are the +twenty thousand crowns you intrusted to me when you departed. Take +them, my friend, but do not ask anything from a heart which is no +longer disposed in your favor. There is nothing left but the most +sincere friendship." + +Astonished at the contrast between her conduct and that of her +reverend co-depositary, and recognizing that he had no right to +complain of the change in her heart because of his long absence, de +Gourville related the story of the indignity heaped upon him by a man +of so exalted a character and reputation. + +"You do not surprise me," said Ninon, with a winning smile, "but you +should not have suspected me on that account. The prodigious +difference in our reputations and conditions should have taught you +that." Then adding with a twinkle in her eye: "Ne suis-je pas la +gardeuse de la cassette?" + +Ninon was afterward called "La belle gardeuse de cassette," and +Voltaire, whose vigilance no anecdote of this nature could escape, has +made it, with some variations, the subject of a comedy, well known to +every admirer of the French drama, under the name of "La Dépositaire." + +Ninon had her preferences, and when one of her admirers was not to her +taste, neither prayers nor entreaties could move her. Hers was not a +case of vendible charms, it was le bon appetit merely, an Epicurean +virtue. The Grand Prior of Vendôme had reason to comprehend this trait +in her character. + +The worthy Grand Prior was an impetuous wooer, and he saw with great +sorrow that Ninon preferred the Counts de Miossens and de Palluan to +his clerical attractions. He complained bitterly to Ninon, but instead +of being softened by his reproaches, she listened to the voice of some +new rival when the Grand Prior thought his turn came next. This put +him in a great rage and he resolved to be revenged, and this is the +way he fancied he could obtain it. One day shortly after he had left +Ninon's house, she noticed on her dressing table a letter, which she +opened to find the following effusion: + +"Indigne de mes feux, indigne de mes larmes, +Je renonce sans peine à tes faibles appas; + Mon amour te prêtait des charmes, + Ingrate, que tu n'avais pas." + +Or, as might be said substantially in English: + +Unworthy my flame, unworthy a tear, +I rejoice to renounce thy feeble allure; + My love lent thee charms that endear, + Which, ingrate, thou couldst not procure. + +Instead of being offended, Ninon took this mark of unreasonable spite +good naturedly, and replied by another quatrain based upon the same +rhyme as that of the disappointed suitor: + +"Insensible à tes feux, insensible à tes larmes, +Je te vois renoncer à mes faibles appas; + Mais si l'amour prête des charmes, + Pourquoi n'en empruntais-tu pas." + +Which is as much as to say in English: + +Caring naught for thy flame, caring naught for thy tear, +I see thee renounce my feeble allure; + But if love lends charms that endear, + By borrowing thou mightst some procure. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Effect of Her Mother's Death + + +It is not to be wondered at that a girl under such tutelage should +abandon herself wholly, both mind and body, to a philosophy so +contrary in its principles and practices to that which her mother had +always endeavored to instill into her young mind. The father was +absent fighting for Heaven alone knew which faction into which France +was broken up, there were so many of them, and the mother and daughter +lived apart, the disparity in their sentiments making it impossible +for them to do otherwise. For this reason, Ninon was practically her +own mistress, and not interfered with because the husband and wife +could not agree upon any definite course of life for her to follow. +Ninon's heart, however, had not lost any of its natural instincts, and +she loved her mother sincerely, a trait in her which all Paris learned +with astonishment when her mother was taken down with what proved to +be a fatal illness. + +Madame de l'Enclos, separated from both her husband and daughter, and +devoting her life to pious exercises, acquired against them the +violent prejudices natural in one who makes such a sacrifice upon the +altar of sentiment. The worldly life of her daughter gave birth in her +mind to an opinion which she deemed the natural consequence of it. +The love of pleasure, in her estimation, had destroyed every vestige +of virtue in her daughter's soul and her neglect of her religious +duties had converted her into an unnatural being. + +But she was agreeably diverted from her ill opinion when her malady +approached a dangerous stage. Ninon flew to heir mother's side as soon +as she heard of it, and without becoming an enemy of her philosophy of +pleasure, she felt it incumbent upon her to suspend its practice. +Friendship, liaisons, social duties, pleasure, everything ceased to +amuse her or give her any satisfaction. The nursing of her sick mother +engaged her entire attention, and her fervor in this dutiful +occupation astonished Madame de l'Enclos and softened her heart to the +extent of acknowledging her error and correcting her estimate of her +daughter's character. She loved her daughter devotedly and was happy +in the knowledge that she was as devotedly loved. But this was not the +kind of happiness that could prolong her days. + +Notwithstanding all her philosophy, Ninon could not bear the spectacle +presented by her dying parent. Her soul was rent with a grief which +she did not conceal, unashamed that philosophy was impotent to +restrain an exhibition of such a natural weakness. Moreover, her dying +mother talked to her long and earnestly, and with her last breath gave +her loving counsel that sank deep into her heart, already softened by +an uncontrollable sorrow and weakened by long vigils. + +Scarcely had Madame de l'Enclos closed her eyes upon the things of +earth, than Ninon conceived the project of withdrawing from the world +and entering a convent. The absence of her father left her absolute +mistress of her conduct, and the few friends who reached her, despite +her express refusal to see any one, could not persuade her to alter +her determination. Ninon, heart broken, distracted and desolate, threw +herself bodily into an obscure convent in the suburbs of Paris, +accepting it, in the throes of her sorrow, as her only refuge and home +on earth. + +Saint-Evremond, in a letter to the Duke d'Olonne, speaks of the +sentiment which is incentive to piety: + +"There are some whom misfortunes have rendered devout through a +certain kind of pity for themselves, a secret piety, strong enough to +dispose men to lead more religious lives." + +Scarron, one of Ninon's closest friends, in his Epistle to Sarrazin, +thus alludes to this conventual escapade: + +"Puis j'aurais su * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +Ce que l'on dit du bel et saint exemple +Que la Ninon donne à tous les mondains, +En se logeant avecque les nonais, +Combien de pleurs la pauvre jouvencelle +A répandus quand sa mère, sans elle, +Cierges brûlants et portant écussons, +Prêtres chantant leurs funèbres chanson, +Voulut aller de linge enveloppée +Servir aux vers d'une franche lippée." + +Which, translated into reasonable English, is as much as saying: + +But I might have known * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +What they say of the example, so holy, so pure, +That Ninon gives to worldlings all, +By dwelling within a nunnery's wall. +How many tears the poor lorn maid +Shed, when her mother, alone, unafraid, +Mid flaming tapers with coats of arms, +Priests chanting their sad funereal alarms, +Went down to the tomb in her winding sheet +To serve for the worms a mouthful sweet. + +But the most poignant sorrow of the human heart is assuaged by time. +Saint-Evremond and Marion de Lormes, Richelieu's "belle amie," +expected to profit by the calm which they knew would not be long in +stealing over the heart of their friend. Marion, however, despaired of +succeeding through her own personal influence, and enlisted the +sympathies of Saint-Evremond, who knew Ninon's heart too well to +imagine for a moment that the mournful, monotonous life she had +embraced would satisfy her very long. It was something to be admitted +to her presence and talk over matters, a privilege they were accorded +after some demur. The first step toward ransoming their friend was +followed by others until they finally made great strides through her +resolution. They brought her back in triumph to the world she had +quitted through a species of "frivolity," so they called it, of which +she was never again guilty as long as she lived. + +This episode in Ninon's life is in direct contrast with one which +occurred when the Queen Regent, Anne of Austria, listening to the +complaints of her jealous maids of honor, attempted to dispose of +Ninon's future by immuring her in a convent. Ninon's celebrity +attained such a summit, and her drawing rooms became so popular among +the élite of the French nobility and desirable youth, that sad inroads +were made in the entourage of the Court, nothing but the culls of +humanity being left for the ladies who patronized the royal functions. +In addition to this, she excited the envy and jealousy of a certain +class of women, whom Ninon called "Jansensists of love," because they +practiced in public the puritanic virtues which they did not even have +tact enough to render agreeable. It is conceivable that Ninon's +brilliant attractions, not to say seductive charms, and her +unparalleled power to attract to her society the brightest and best +men of the nation, engendered the most violent jealousy and hatred of +those whose feebler charms were ignored and relegated to the +background. The most bitter complaints and accusations were made +against her to the Queen Regent, who was beset on all sides by loud +outcries against the conduct of a woman whom they were powerless to +imitate, until, to quiet their clamors, she deemed it her duty to act. + +Anne of Austria accordingly sent Ninon, by special messenger, a +peremptory order to withdraw to a convent, giving her the power of +selection. At first Anne intended to send her to the convent of +Repentant Girls (Filles Repenties), but the celebrated Bauton, one of +the Oiseaux des Tournelles, who loved a good joke as well as he did +Ninon, told her that such a course would excite ridicule because Ninon +was neither a girl nor a repentant (ni fille, ni repentie), for which +reason, the order was changed leaving Ninon to her own choice of a +prison. + +Ninon knew the source of the order, and foresaw that her numerous +distinguished admirers would not have any difficulty in protecting +her, and persuading the Queen Regent to rescind her order, and +therefore gave herself no concern, receiving the order as a +pleasantry. + +"I am deeply sensible of the goodness of the court in providing for my +welfare and in permitting me to select my place of retreat, and +without hesitation, I decide in favor of the Grands Cordeliers." + +Now it so happened that the Grands Cordeliers was a monastery +exclusively for men, and from which women were rigidly excluded. +Moreover, the morals of the holy brotherhood was not of the best, as +the writers of their history during that period unanimously testify. +M. de Guitaut, the captain of the Queen's guard, who had been +intrusted with the message, happened to be one of the "Birds," and he +assured the Regent that it was nothing but a little pleasantry on the +part of Ninon, who merited a thousand marks of approval and +commendation for her sterling and brilliant qualities of mind and +heart rather than punishment or even censure. + +The only comment made by the Queen Regent was: "Fie, the nasty +thing!" accompanied by a fit of laughter. Others of the "Birds" came +to the rescue, among them the Duc d'Enghien, who was known not to +value his esteem for women lightly. The matter was finally dropped, +Anne of Austria finding means to close the mouths of the envious. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Her Increasing Popularity + + +Ninon's return to the gayeties of her drawing rooms was hailed with +loud acclamations from all quarters. The envy and jealousy of her +female enemies, the attempt to immure her in a convent, and her +selection of the Grands Cordeliers as her place of retreat, brought +her new friends and admirers through the notoriety given her, and all +Paris resounded with the fame of her spirit, her wit, and her +philosophy. + +Ladies of high rank sought admission into her charming circle, many of +them, it is to be imagined, because they possessed exaggerated ideas +of her influence at court. Had she not braved the Queen Regent with +impunity? Her drawing rooms soon became the center of attraction and +were nightly crowded with the better part of the brilliant society of +Paris. Ninon was the acknowledged guide and leader, and all submitted +to her sway without the slightest envy or jealousy, and it may also be +said, without the slightest compunctions or remorse of conscience. + +The affair with the Queen Regent had one good effect, it separated the +desirable from the undesirable in the social scale, compelling the +latter to set up an establishment of their own as a counter +attraction, and as their only hope of having any society at all. They +established a "little court" at the Hôtel Rambouillet, where +foppishness was a badge of distinction, and where a few narrow minded, +starched moralists, poisoned metaphysics and turned the sentiments of +the heart into a burlesque by their affectation and their unrefined, +even vulgar attempts at gallantry. They culled choice expressions and +epigrams from the literature of the day, employing their memories to +conceal their paucity of original wit, and practised upon their +imaginations to obtain a salacious philosophy, which consisted of +sodden ideas, flat in their expression, stale and unattractive in +their adaptation. + +Ninon's coterie was the very opposite, consisting as it did of the +very flower of the nobility and the choicest spirits of the age, who +banished dry and sterile erudition, and sparkled with the liveliest +wit and polite accomplishments. There were some who eluded the +vigilance of Ninon's shrewd scrutiny, and made their way into her +inner circle, but they were soon forced to abandon their pretensions +by their inability to maintain any standing among a class of men who +were so far beyond them in rank and attainments. + +Not long after her return to the pleasures of society, after the +convent episode, Ninon was called upon to mourn the demise of her +father. M. de l'Enclos was one of the fortunate men of the times who +escaped the dangers attendant upon being on the wrong side in +politics. For some inscrutable reason, he took sides with Cardinal de +Retz, and on that account was practically banished from Paris and +compelled to be satisfied with the rough annoyances of camp life +instead of being able to put in practice the pleasant precepts of his +philosophy. He was finally permitted to return to Paris with his head +safe upon his shoulders, and flattered himself with the idea that he +could now make up for lost time, promising himself to enjoy to the +full the advantages offered by his daughter's establishment. He +embraced his daughter with the liveliest pleasure imaginable, taking +upon himself all the credit for her great reputation as due to his +efforts and to his philosophical training. He was flattered at the +success of his lessons and entered upon a life of joyous pleasure with +as much zest as though in the bloom of his youth. It proved too much +for a constitution weakened by the fatigues of years of arduous +military campaigns and he succumbed, the flesh overpowered by the +spirit, and took to his bed, where he soon reached a condition that +left his friends no hope of his recuperation. + +Aware that the end was approaching, he sent for his daughter, who +hastened to his side and shed torrents of tears. But he bade her +remember the lessons she had learned from his philosophy, and wishing +to give her one more lesson, said in an almost expiring voice: + +"Approach nearer, Ninon; you see nothing left me but a sad memory of +the pleasures that are leaving me. Their possession was not of long +duration, and that is the only complaint I have to make against +nature. But, alas! my regrets are vain. You who must survive me, +utilize precious time, and have no scruples about the quantity of your +pleasures, but only of their quality." + +Saying which, he immediately expired. The philosophical security +exhibited by her father in his very last moments, inspired Ninon with +the same calmness of spirit, and she bore his loss with equanimity, +disdaining to exhibit any immoderate grief lest she dishonor his +memory and render herself an unworthy daughter and pupil. + +The fortune left her by her father was not so considerable as Ninon +had expected. It had been very much diminished by extravagance and +speculation, but as she had in mind de la Rochefoucauld's maxim: +"There are some good marriages, but no delicious ones," and did not +contemplate ever wearing the chains of matrimony, she deposited her +fortune in the sinking funds, reserving an income of about eight +thousand livres per annum as sufficient to maintain her beyond the +reach of want. From this time on she abandoned herself to a life of +pleasure, well regulated, it must be confessed, and in strict +accordance with her Epicurean ideas. Her light heartedness increased +with her love and devotion to pleasure, which is not astonishing, as +there are privileged souls who do not lose their tender emotions by +such a pursuit, though those souls are rare. Ninon's unrestrained +freedom, and the privilege she claimed to enjoy all the rights which +men assumed, did not give her the slightest uneasiness. It was her +lovers who became anxious unless they regulated their love according +to the rules she established for them to follow, rules which it can +not be denied, were held in as much esteem then as nowadays. The +following anecdote will serve as an illustration: + +The Marquis de la Châtre had been one of her lovers for an +unconscionably long period, but never seemed to cool in his fidelity. +Duty, however, called him away from Ninon's arms, but he was +distressed with the thought that his absence would be to his +disadvantage. He was afraid to leave her lest some rival should appear +upon the scene and dispossess him in her affections. Ninon vainly +endeavored to remove his suspicions. + +"No, cruel one," he said, "you will forget and betray me. I know your +heart, it alarms me, crushes me. It is still faithful to my love, I +know, and I believe you are not deceiving me at this moment. But that +is because I am with you and can personally talk of my love. Who will +recall it to you when I am gone? The love you inspire in others, +Ninon, is very different from the love you feel. You will always be in +my heart, and absence will be to me a new fire to consume me; but to +you, absence is the end of affection. Every object I shall imagine I +see around you will be odious to me, but to you they will be +interesting." + +Ninon could not deny that there was truth in the Marquis' logic, but +she was too tender to assassinate his heart which she knew to be so +loving. Being a woman she understood perfectly the art of +dissimulation, which is a necessary accomplishment, a thousand +circumstances requiring its exercise for the sake of her security, +peace, and comfort. Moreover, she did not at the moment dream of +deceiving him; there was no present occasion, nobody else she had in +mind. Ninon thought rapidly, but could not find any reason for +betraying him, and therefore assured him of her fidelity and +constancy. + +Nevertheless, the amorous Marquis, who might have relied upon the +solemn promise of his mistress, had it not been for the intense fears +which were ever present in his mind, and becoming more violent as the +hour for his departure drew nearer, required something more +substantial than words. But what could he exact? Ah! an idea, a novel +expedient occurred to his mind, one which he imagined would restrain +the most obstinate inconstancy. + +"Listen, Ninon, you are without contradiction a remarkable woman. If +you once do a thing you will stand to it. What will tend to quiet my +mind and remove my fears, ought to be your duty to accept, because my +happiness is involved and that is more to you than love; it is your +own philosophy, Ninon. Now, I wish you to put in writing that you will +remain faithful to me, and maintain the most inviolable fidelity. I +will dictate it in the strongest form and in the most sacred terms +known to human promises. I will not leave you until I have obtained +such a pledge of your constancy, which is necessary to relieve my +anxiety, and essential to my repose." + +Ninon vainly argued that this would be something too strange and +novel, foolish, in fact, the Marquis was obstinate and finally +overcame her remonstrances. She wrote and signed a written pledge +such as no woman had ever executed, and fortified with this pledge, +the Marquis hastened to respond to the call of duty. + +Two days had scarcely elapsed before Ninon was besieged by one of the +most dangerous men of her acquaintance. Skilled in the art of love, he +had often pressed his suit, but Ninon had other engagements and would +not listen to him. But now, his rival being out of the field, he +resumed his entreaties and increased his ardor. He was a man to +inspire love, but Ninon resisted, though his pleading touched her +heart. Her eyes at last betrayed her love and she was vanquished +before she realized the outcome of the struggle. + +What was the astonishment of the conqueror, who was enjoying the +fruits of his victory, to hear Ninon exclaim in a breathless voice, +repeating it three times: "Ah! Ah! le bon billet qu'a la Châtre!" (Oh, +the fine bond that la Châtre has.) + +Pressed for an explanation of the enigma, Ninon told him the whole +story, which was too good to keep secret, and soon the "billet de la +Châtre" became, in the mouth of everybody, a saying applied to things +upon which it is not wise to rely. Voltaire, to preserve so charming +an incident, has embalmed it in his comedy of la Prude, act I, scene +III. Ninon merely followed the rule established by Madame de Sévigné: +"Les femmes ont permission d'être faibles, et elles se servent sans +scrupule de ce privilège." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Ninon's Friendships + + +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos never forgot a friend in a lover, indeed, the +trait that stands out clear and strong in her character, is her whole +hearted friendship for the men she loved, and she bestowed it upon +them as long as they lived, for she outlived nearly all of them, and +cherished their memories afterward. As has been said, Ninon de +l'Enclos was Epicurean in the strictest sense, and did not rest her +entire happiness on love alone, but included a friendship which went +to the extent of making sacrifices. The men with whom she came in +contact from time to time during her long life, were nothing to her +from a pecuniary point of view, for she possessed an income +sufficiently large to satisfy her wants and to maintain the social +establishment she never neglected. + +There was never, either directly or indirectly, any money +consideration asked or expected in payment of her favors, and the man +who would have dared offer her money as a consideration for anything, +would have met with scorn and contempt and been expelled from her +house and society without ever being permitted to regain either. The +natural wants of her heart and mind, and what she was pleased to call +the natural gratifications of physical wants, were her mentors, and to +them she listened, never dreaming of holding them at a pecuniary +value. + +One of her dearest friends was Scarron, once the husband of Madame de +Maintenon, the pious leader of a debased court and the saintly +mistress of the king of France. In his younger days, Scarron +contributed largely to the pleasures of the Oiseaux des Tournelles, +the ecclesiastical collar he then wore not being sufficient to prevent +his enjoying worldly pleasures. + +In the course of time Scarron fell ill, and was reduced to a dreadful +condition, no one coming to his succor but Ninon. Like a tender, +compassionate friend, she sympathized deeply with him, when he was +carried to the suburb Saint Germain to try the effects of the baths as +an alleviation of his pains. Scarron did not complain, on the +contrary, he was cheerful and always gay even when suffering tortures. +There was little left of him, however, but an indomitable spirit +burning in a crushed tenement of mortal clay. Not being able to come +to her, Ninon went to him, and passed entire days at his side. Not +only that, she brought her friends with her and established a small +court around his bed, thus cheering him in his pain and doing him a +world of good, which finally enabled his spirit to triumph over his +mortal shell. + +Instances might be multiplied, enough to fill a volume, of her +devotion to her friends, whom she never abandoned and whom she was +always ready with purse and counsel to aid in their difficulties. A +curious instance is that of Nicolas Vauquelin, sieur de Desyvetaux, +whom she missed from her circle for several days. Aware that he had +been having some family troubles, and that his fortune was menaced, +she became alarmed, thinking that perhaps some misfortune had come +upon him, for which reason she resolved to seek him and help him out +of his difficulties. But Ninon was mistaken in supposing that so wise +and gay an Epicurean could be crushed by any sorrow or trouble. +Desyvetaux was enjoying himself in so singular a fashion that it is +worth telling. + +This illustrious Epicurean, finding one night a young girl in a +fainting condition at his door, brought her into his house to succor +her, moved by an impulse of humanity. But as soon as she had recovered +her senses, the philosopher's heart was touched by her beauty. To +please her benefactor the girl played several selections on a harp and +accompanied the instrument with a charming and seductive voice. + +Desyvetaux, who was a passionate admirer of music, was captivated by +this accomplishment, and suddenly conceived the desire to spend the +rest of his days in the company of this charming singer. It was not +difficult for a girl who had been making it her business to frequent +the wineshops of the suburbs with a brother, earning a precarious +living by singing and playing on the harp, to accept such a +proposition, and consent to bestow happiness upon an excessively +amorous man, who offered to share with her a luxurious and tranquil +life in one of the finest residences in the suburb Saint Germain. + +Although most of his life had been passed at court as the governor of +M. de Vendôme, and tutor of Louis XIII, he had always desired to lead +a life of peace and quiet in retirement. The pleasures of a sylvan +life which he had so often described in his lectures, ended by leading +his mind in that direction. The young girl he found on his doorstep +had offered him his first opportunity to have a Phyllis to his Corydon +and he eagerly embraced it. Both yielded to the fancy, she dressed in +the garb of a shepherdess, he playing the rôle of Corydon at the age +of seventy years. + +Sometimes stretched out on a carpet of verdure, he listened to the +enchanting music she drew from her instrument, or drank in the sweet +voice of his shepherdess singing melodious pastorals. A flock of +birds, charmed with this harmony, left their cages to caress with +their wings, Dupuis' harp, or intoxicated with joy, fluttered down +into her bosom. This little gallantry in which they had been trained +was a delicious spectacle to the shepherd philosopher and intoxicated +his senses. He fancied he was guiding with his mistress innumerable +bands of intermingled sheep; their conversation was in tender eclogues +composed by them both extemporaneously, the attractive surroundings +inspiring them with poetry. + +Ninon was amazed when she found her "bon homme," as she called him, in +the startlingly original disguise of a shepherd, a crook in his hand, +a wallet hanging by his side, and a great flapping straw hat, trimmed +with rose colored silk on his head. Her first impression was that he +had taken leave of his senses, and she was on the point of shedding +tears over the wreck of a once brilliant mind, when Desyvetaux, +suspending his antics long enough to look about him, perceived her and +rushed to her side with the liveliest expressions of joy. He removed +her suspicions of his sanity by explaining his metamorphosis in a +philosophical fashion: + +"You know, my dear Ninon, there are certain tastes and pleasures which +find their justification in a certain philosophy when they bear all +the marks of moral innocence. Nothing can be said against them but +their singularity. There are no amusements less dangerous than those +which do not resemble those generally indulged in by the multitude." + +Ninon was pleased with the amiable companion of her old friend. Her +figure, her mental attainments, and her talents enchanted her, and +Desyvetaux, who appeared in a ridiculous light when she first saw him +in his masquerade, now seemed to her to be on the road to happiness. +She made no attempt to persuade him to return to his former mode of +life, which she could not avoid at this moment, however, as +considering more agreeable than the new one he had adopted. But what +could she offer in the way of superior seductive pleasures to a pair +who had tasted pure and natural enjoyments? The vain amusements and +allurements of the world have no sympathy with anything but +dissipation, in which, the mind, yielding to the fleeting seductions +of art, leaves the heart empty as soon as the illusion disappears. + +The strange conduct of Desyvetaux gave birth to numerous reflections +of this nature in Ninon's mind, but she did not cease to be his +friend, on the contrary, she entered into the spirit of his simple +life and visited him from time to time to enjoy the spectacle of such +a tender masquerade which Desyvetaux continued up to the time of his +death. It gave Mademoiselle Dupuis nearly as much celebrity as her +lover attained, for when the end came, she obeyed his desire to play a +favorite dance on her harp, to enable his soul to take flight in the +midst of its delicious harmony. It should be mentioned, that +Desyvetaux wore in his hat as long as he lived, a yellow ribbon, "out +of love for the gentle Ninon who gave it to me." + +Socrates advises persons of means to imitate the swans, which, +realizing the benefit of an approaching death, sing while in their +death agony. The Abbé Brantôme relates an interesting story of the +death of Mademoiselle de Lineul, the elder, one of the queen's +daughters, which resembles that of Desyvetaux. + +"When the hour of her death had arrived," says Brantôme, "Mademoiselle +sent for her valet, Julian, who could play the violin to perfection. +'Julian,' quoth she, 'take your violin and play on it until you see me +dead--for I am going--the Defeat of the Swiss, and play it as well as +you know how; and when you shall reach the words "tout est perdu," +play it over four or five times as piteously as you can:' which the +other did. And when he came to 'tout est perdu' she sang it over +twice; then turning to the other side of the couch, she said to those +who stood around: 'Tout est perdu à ce coup et à bon escient;' all is +lost this time, sure.'" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Some of Ninon's Lovers + + +Notwithstanding her love of pleasure, and her admiration for the +society of men, Ninon was never vulgar or common in the distribution +of her favors, but selected those upon whom she decided to bestow +them, with the greatest care and discrimination. As has been already +said, she discovered in early life, that women were at a discount, and +she resolved to pursue the methods of men in the acceptance or +rejection of friendship, and in distributing her favors and +influences. As she herself declared: + +"I soon saw that women were put off with the most frivolous and unreal +privileges, while every solid advantage was retained by the stronger +sex. From that moment I determined on abandoning my own sex and +assuming that of the men." + +So well did she carry out this determination that she was regarded by +her masculine intimates as one of themselves, and whatever pleasures +they enjoyed in her society, were enjoyed upon the same principle as +they would have delighted in a good dinner, an agreeable theatrical +performance, or exquisite music. + +To her and to all her associates, love was a taste emanating from the +senses, a blind sentiment which assumes no merit in the object which +gives it birth, as is the case of hunger, thirst, and the like. In a +word, it was merely a caprice the domination of which depends upon +ourselves, and is subject to the discomforts and regrets attendant +upon repletion or indulgence. + +After her first experience with de Coligny, which was an abandonment +of her cold philosophy for a passionate attachment she thought would +endure forever, Ninon cast aside all that element in love which is +connected with passion and extravagant sentiment, and adhered to her +philosophical understanding of it, and kept it in its proper place in +the category of natural appetites. To illustrate her freedom from +passionate attachments in the distribution of her favors, the case of +her friend Scarron will give an insight into her philosophy. Scarron +had received numerous favors from her, and being one of her select +"Birds," who had always agreed with la Rochefoucauld that, "There are +many good marriages but none that are delicious," she assumed that her +friend would never entangle himself in the bonds of matrimony. But he +did and to his sorrow. + +When Ninon had returned to Paris after a long sojourn with the Marquis +de Villarceaux, she found to her astonishment that Scarron had married +the amiable but ignoble Mademoiselle d'Aubigne. This young lady was in +a situation which precluded all hope of her ever attaining social +eminence, but aspiring to rise, notwithstanding her common origin, she +married Scarron as the first step upon the social ladder. Without +realizing that this woman was to become the celebrated Madame de +Maintenon, mistress of the king and the real power behind the throne, +Ninon took her in charge and they soon became the closest and most +affectionate friends, always together even occupying the same bed. +Ninon's tender friendship for the husband continued in spite of his +grave violation of the principles of his accepted philosophy, and when +he was deserted, sick and helpless, she went to him and brought him +cheer and comfort. + +Ninon was so little imbued with jealousy that when she discovered a +liaison between her own lover, Marquis de Villarceaux and her friend, +Madame Scarron, she was not even angry. The two were carrying on their +amour in secret, and as they supposed without Ninon's knowledge, whose +presence, indeed, they deemed a restraint upon their freedom of +action. The Marquis considered himself a traitor to Ninon, and Madame +Scarron stood in fear of her reproaches for her betrayal. But Ninon, +instead of taking either of them to task, as she would have been +justified in doing, gently remonstrated with them for their secrecy, +and by her kindness reassured both of them and relieved them from +their embarrassment, making them understand that she desired nothing +so much as their happiness. Both the Marquis and his mistress made +Ninon their confidante, and thereafter lived in perfect amity until +the lovers grew tired of each other, Madame Scarron aiming higher than +an ordinary Marquis, now that she saw her way clear to mounting the +social ladder. + +It was perhaps due to Ninon's kindness in the Villarceaux episode, +that enabled her to retain the friendship of Madame de Maintenon when +the latter had reached the steps of the throne. The mistress of +royalty endeavored to persuade Ninon to appear at court but there was +too great a difference in temper and constitution between the two +celebrated women to admit of any close relations. Ninon made use of +the passion of love for the purpose of pleasure only, while her more +exalted rival made it subservient to her ambitious projects, and did +not hesitate with that view to cloak her licentious habits beneath the +mantle of religion, and add hypocrisy to frailty. The income of Ninon +de l'Enclos was agreeably and judiciously spent in the society of men +of wit and letters, but the revenues of the Marchioness de Maintenon +were squandered on the useless decoration of her own person, or +hoarded for the purpose of elevating into rank and notice an +insignificant family, who had no other claim to such distinction than +that derived from the easy honesty of a female relation, and the +dissolute extravagance of a vain and licentious sovereign. + +While Ninon de l'Enclos was receiving and encouraging the attentions +of the most distinguished men of her time, literati, nobles, warriors, +statesmen, and sages, in her house in the Rue des Tournelles, the +mistress of the sovereign, the dear friend who had betrayed her to the +Marquis de Villarceaux, was swallowing, at Versailles, the adulations +of degraded courtiers of every rank and profession. There were met +together there the vain and the ambitious, the designing and the +foolish, the humblest and the proudest of those who, whether proud or +humble, or ambitious, or vain, or crafty, were alike the devoted +servants of the monarch or the monarch's mistress--princes, cardinals, +bishops, dukes and every kind of nobility, excisemen and priests, +keepers of the royal conscience and necessary--all ministers of filth, +each in his degree, from the secretaries of state to the lowest +underlings in office--clerks of the ordnance, victualing, stamps, +customs, colonies, and postoffice, farmers and receivers general, +judges and cooks, confessors and every other caterer to the royal +appetite. This was the order of things that Ninon de l'Enclos was +contending against, and that she succeeded by methods that must be +considered saintly compared with the others, stands recorded in the +pages of history. + +After Ninon had suffered from the indiscretion of the lover who made +public the story of the famous pledge given la Châtre, she lost her +fancy for the recreant, and though friendly, refused any closer tie. +He knew that he had done Ninon an injury and begged to be reinstated +in her favor. He was of charming manners and fascinating in his +pleading, but he made no impression on her heart. She agreed to pardon +him for his folly and declined to consider the matter further. Nor +would she return to the conversation, although he persisted in +referring to the matter as one he deeply regretted. When he was +departing after Ninon had assured him of her pardon, she ran after him +and called out as he was descending the stairs: "At least, Marquis, +we have not been reconciled." + +Her good qualities were embalmed in the literature of the day, very +few venturing to lampoon her. Those who did so were greeted with so +much derisive laughter that they were ashamed to appear in society +until the storm had blown over. + +M. de Tourielle, a member of the French Academy, and a very learned +man, became enamored of her and his love-making assumed a curious +phase. To show her that he was worthy of her consideration, he deemed +it incumbent upon him to read her long dissertations on scientific +subjects, and bored her incessantly with a translation of the orations +of Demosthenes, which he intended dedicating to her in an elaborate +preface. This was more than Ninon could bear with equanimity--a lover +with so much erudition, and his prosy essays, appealed more to her +sense of humor than to her sentiments of love, and he was laughed out +of her social circle. This angered the Academician and he thought to +revenge himself by means of an epigram in which he charged Ninon with +admiring figures of rhetoric more than a sensible academic discourse +full of Greek and Latin quotations. It would have proved the ruin of +the poor man had Ninon not come to his rescue, and explained to him +the difference between learning and love. After which he became +sensible and wrote some very good books. + +It should be understood that Ninon had no secrets in which her merry +and wise "Birds" did not share. She confided to them all her love +affairs, gave them the names of her suitors, in fact, every wooer was +turned over to this critical, select society, as a committee of +investigation into quality and merit both of mind and body. In this +way she was protected from the unworthy, and when she made a +selection, they respected her freedom of choice, carefully guarding +her lover and making him one of themselves after the fitful fever was +over. They were all graduates in her school, good fellows, and had +accepted Ninon's philosophy without question. + +Her lovers were always men of rank and station or of high talents, but +she was caught once by the dazzle of a famous dancer named Pécour, who +pleased her exceedingly, and who became the fortunate rival of the Duc +de Choiseul, afterward a marshal of France. It happened that Choiseul +was more remarkable for his valor than for his probity and solid +virtues, and could not inspire in Ninon's heart anything but the +sterile sentiments of esteem and respect. He was certainly worthy of +these, but he was too cold in his amorous desires to please Ninon. + +"He is a very worthy gentleman," said she, "but he never gives me a +chance to love him." + +The frequent visits of Pécour excited the jealousy of the warrior, but +he did not dare complain, not knowing whether things had reached a +climax and fearing that if he should mention the matter he might help +them along instead of stopping them. One day, however, he attempted to +goad his unworthy rival into some admission, and received a response +that was enough to settle his doubts. + +Pécour was in the habit of wearing a costume much resembling that of +the military dandies of the period. Choiseul meeting him in this +equivocal garb, proceeded to be funny at his expense by putting to him +all sorts of ironical and embarrassing questions. But Pécour felt all +the vanity of a successful rival and was good natured. Then the Duke +began to make sneering remarks which roused the dancer's anger. + +"Pray, what flag are you fighting under, and what body do you +command?" asked Monseigneur with a sarcastic smile. + +Quick as a flash came the answer which gave the Duke an inkling into +the situation. + +"Je commande un corps où vous servez depuis longtemps," replied +Pécour. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Ninon's Lovers--Continued + + +A counter attraction has been referred to in speaking of the Hôtel +Rambouillet, where a fashionable court was established for the purpose +of drawing away from Ninon the elite who flocked to her standard. +Mademoiselle de Scudery gives a fine description of this little court +at Rambouillet in her romance, entitled "Cyrus." There was not and +could not be any rivalry between the court in the Rue des Tournelles +and that at Rambouillet, for the reason that Ninon's coterie consisted +of men exclusively, while that of Rambouillet was thronged with women. +But this, quite naturally, occasioned much envy and jealousy among the +ladies who devised all sorts of entertainments to attract masculine +society. One of their performances was the famous "Julia Garland," so +named in honor of Mademoiselle de Rambouillet, who was known by the +name of "Julie d'Angennes." Each one selected a favorite flower, wrote +a sonnet in its praise, and when all were ready, they stood around +Mademoiselle de Rambouillet in a circle and alternately recited the +poem, the reward for the best one being the favor of some fair lady. +Among those who were drawn to the Hôtel Rambouillet by this pleasing +entertainment was the Duke d'Enghien, afterward known as the "Great +Condé," a prince of the highest renown as a victorious warrior. He +was a great acquisition, and the Garland Play was repeated every night +in the expectation that his pleasure would continue, and the constant +attraction prove adequate to hold him. Once or twice, however, was +sufficient for the Duke, its constant repetition becoming flat and +tiresome. He did not scruple to express his dissatisfaction with a +society that could not originate something new. He was a broad minded +man, with a comprehensive knowledge, but had little taste for poetry +and childish entertainments. But the good ladies of Rambouillet, +unable to devise any other entertainment, persisted in their Garland +Play, until the Duke's human nature rebelled at the monotony, and he +begged his friends de Moissens and Saint-Evremond to suggest some +relief. They immediately brought him in touch with the Birds of the +Tournelles, with the result that he abandoned the Hôtel Rambouillet +and found scope for his social desires at Ninon's house and in her +more attractive society. The conquest of his heart followed that of +his intelligence, the hero of Rocroi being unable to resist a +tenderness which is the glory of a lover and the happiness of his +mistress. + +It is a curious fact, known to some, that all the heroes of Bellona +are not expert in the wars of Venus, the strongest and most valiant +souls being weak in combats in which valor plays an unimportant part. +The poet Chaulieu says upon this point: + +"Pour avoir la valeur d'Hercule, +On n'est pas obligé d'en avoir la vigueur." + +(To have the valor of Hercules, one need not have his vigor.) + +The young Prince was born to attain immortal glory on the field of +Mars. To that all his training had tended, but notwithstanding his +robust physique, and the indicia of great strength with which nature +had endowed him, he was a weakling in the field of Venus. He came +within the category of a Latin proverb with which Ninon was familiar: +"Pilosus aut fortis, aut libidinosus." (A hairy man is either strong +or sensual.) Wherefore, one day when Ninon was enjoying his society, +she looked at him narrowly and exclaimed: "Ah, Monseigneur, il faut +que vous soyez bien fort!" (Ah, Monseigneur, you must be very strong.) + +Notwithstanding this, the two dwelt together for a long time in +perfect harmony, the intellectual benefit the Duke derived from the +close intimacy being no less than the pleasure he derived from her +affection. Naturally inclined to deserve the merit and esteem as well +as the love of her admirers, Ninon used all the influence she +possessed to regulate their lives and to inspire them with the true +desire to perform faithfully the duties of their rank and station. +What power over her intimates does not possess a charming woman +disembarrassed of conventional prudery, but vested with grace, high +sentiments, and mental attainments! It was through the gentle exercise +of this power that the famous Aspasia graved in the soul of Pericles +the seductive art of eloquent language, and taught him the most solid +maxims of politics, maxims of which he made so noble a use. + +The young Duke, penetrated with love and esteem for Ninon, passed at +her side every moment he could steal away from the profound studies +and occupations required by his rank and position. Although he +afterward became the Prince de Condé, the Lion of his time, and the +bulwark of France, he never ceased expressing for her the liveliest +gratitude and friendship. Whenever he met her equipage in the streets +of Paris, he never failed to descend from his own and go to pay her +the most affectionate compliments. + +The Prince de Marsillac, afterward the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, less +philosophical then than later in life, and who prided himself on his +acquaintance with all the vices and follies of youth, could not long +withhold his admiration for the solid and estimable qualities he +perceived in Ninon, whom he often saw in the company of the Duke +d'Enghein. The result of his admiration was that he formed a tender +attachment which lasted as long as he lived. It was Ninon who +continued the good work begun by Madame de La Fayette, who confessed +that her social relations with la Rochefoucauld had been the means of +embellishing her mind, and that in compensation for this great service +she had reformed his heart. Whatever share Madame de La Fayette may +have had in reforming the heart of this great man, it is certain that +Ninon de l'Enclos had much to do with reforming his morals and +elevating his mind up to the point it is evident he reached, to judge +from his "Maxims," in which the human heart is bared as with a scalpel +in the most skilfully devised epigrams that never cease to hold the +interest of every reader. + +Chapelle, the most celebrated voluptuary in Paris, did everything in +his power to overcome Ninon's repugnance, but without success. There +was nothing lacking in his mental attainments, for he was a poet of +very high order, inimitable in his style; moreover, he was presentable +in his person. Yet he could not make the slightest impression on +Ninon's heart. He openly declared his love, and, receiving constant +rebuffs, resolved to have revenge and overcome her resistance by +punishing her. This he attempted to do in a very singular manner +without regard to consistency. + +All Paris knew his verses in which he did not conceal his ardent love +for Ninon, and in which were expressed the highest admiration for her +estimable qualities and the depth of her philosophy. He now proceeded +to take back everything good he had said about her and made fun of her +love, her friendship, and her attainments. He ridiculed her in every +possible manner, even charging up against her beauty, her age. A verse +or so will enable the reader to understand his methods: + +"Il ne faut pas qu'on s'étonne, +Si souvent elle raisonne +De la sublime vertu +Dont Platon fut revêtu: +Car à bien compter son âge, +Elle peut avoir vécu +Avec ce grand personnage." + +Or, substantially in the English language: + +Let no one be surprised, +If she should be advised +Of the virtue most renowned +In Plato to be found: +For, counting up her age, +She lived, 'tis reason sound, +With that great personage. + +Ninon had no rancor in her heart toward any one, much less against an +unsuccessful suitor, hence she only laughed at Chapelle's effusions +and all Paris laughed with her. The truth is, la Rochefoucauld had +impressed her mind with that famous saying of his: "Old age is the +hell of women," and not fearing any hell, reference to her age neither +alarmed her, nor caused the slightest flurry in her peaceful life. She +was too philosophical to regret the loss of what she did not esteem of +any value, and saw Chapelle slipping away from her with tranquillity +of mind. It was only during moments of gayety when she abandoned +herself to the play of an imagination always laughing and fertile, +that she repeated the sacrilegious wish of the pious king of Aragon, +who wished that he had been present at the moment of creation, when, +among the suggestions he could have given Providence, he would have +advised him to put the wrinkles of old age where the gods of Pagandom +had located the feeble spot in Achilles. + +If Ninon ever felt a pang on account of the ungenerous conduct of +Chapelle, his disciple, the illustrious Abbé de Chaulieu, the Anacreon +of the age, who was called, when he made his entrée into the world of +letters "the poet of good fellowship," more than compensated her for +the injury done by his pastor. The Abbé was the Prior of Fontenay, +whither Ninon frequently accompanied Madame the Duchess de Bouillon +and the Chevalier d'Orléans. The Duchess loved to joke at the expense +of the Abbé, and twit him about his wasted talents, which were more +adapted to love than to his present situation. It may be that the +worthy Abbé, after thinking over seriously what was intended to be a +mere pleasantry, concluded that Madame the Duchess was right, and that +he possessed some talent in the direction of love. However that might, +have been, it is certain that he had cast an observant and critical +eye on Ninon, and he now openly paid her court, not unsuccessfully it +should be known. + +The Abbé Gedoyn was her last lover so far as there is any account of +her amours. The story is related by Remond, surnamed "The Greek," and +must be taken with a grain of salt as Ninon was at that time +seventy-nine years of age. This Remond, notwithstanding her age, had +made violent love to Ninon without meeting with any success. Perhaps +he was trying an experiment, being a learned man, anxious to ascertain +when the fire of passion became extinct in the human breast. Ninon +evidently suspected his ardent professions for she refused to listen +to him and forbade his visits altogether. + +"I was the dupe of his Greek erudition," she explained, "so I banished +him from my school. He was always wrong in his philosophy of the +world, and was unworthy of as sensible a society as mine." She often +added to this: "After God had made man, he repented him; I feel the +same about Rémond." + +But to return to the Abbé Gedoyn: he left the Jesuits with the Abbé +Fraguier in 1694, that is to say, when Mademoiselle de l'Enclos was +seventy-eight years of age. Both of them immediately made the +acquaintance of Ninon and Madame de la Salière, and, astonished at the +profound merit they discovered, deemed it to their advantage to +frequent their society for the purpose of adding to their talents +something which the study of the cloister and experience in the king's +cabinet itself had never offered them. Abbé Gedoyn became particularly +attached to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whose good taste and +intellectual lights he considered such sure and safe guides. His +gratitude soon received the additions of esteem and admiration, and +the young disciple felt the growth of desires which it is difficult to +believe were real, but which became so pressing, that they revived in +a heart nearly extinct a feeble spark of that fire with which it had +formerly burned. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos refused to accede to the +desires of her lover until she was fully eighty years of age, a term +which did not cool the ardor of the amorous Abbé, who waited +impatiently and on her eightieth birthday compelled his benefactress +to keep her word. + +This incident recalls the testimony of a celebrated Countess of +Salisbury, who was called to testify as an expert upon the subject of +love in a celebrated criminal case that was tried over a hundred years +ago in the English House of Lords. The woman correspondent was of an +age when human passion is supposed to be extinct, and her counsel was +attempting to prove that fact to relieve her from the charge. The +testimony of the aged Countess, who was herself over seventy-five +years of age, was very unsatisfactory, and the court put this question +to her demanding an explicit answer. + +"Madame," he inquired, "at what age does the sentiment, passion, or +desire of love cease in the female heart?" + +Her ladyship, who had lived long in high society and had been +acquainted with all of the gallants and coquettes of the English court +for nearly two generations, and who, herself, had sometimes been +suspected of not having been averse to a little waywardness, looked +down at her feet for a moment thoughtfully, then raising her eyes and +locking squarely into those of the judge, answered: + +"My Lord, you will have to ask a woman older than I." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The Villarceaux Affair + + +Party politics raged around Ninon, her "Birds" being men of high rank +and leaders with a large following. They were all her dearest friends, +however, and no matter how strong personal passion was beyond her +immediate presence, her circle was a neutral ground which no one +thought of violating. It required her utmost influence and tenderness, +however, to prevent outbreaks, but her unvarying sweetness of temper +and disposition to all won their hearts into a truce for her sake. +There were continual plots hatched against the stern rule of +Richelieu, cabals and conspiracies without number were entered upon, +but none of them resulted in anything. Richelieu knew very well what +was going on, and he realized perfectly that Ninon's drawing-rooms +were the center of every scheme concocted to drag him down and out of +the dominant position he was holding against the combined nobility of +France. But he never took a step toward suppressing her little court +as a hot-bed of restlessness, he rather encouraged her by his silence +and his indifference. Complaints of her growing coterie of uneasy +spirits brought nothing from him but: "As long as they find amusements +they are not dangerous." It was the forerunner of Napoleon's idea +along the same line: "We must amuse the people; then they will not +meddle with our management of the government." + +It is preposterous to think of this minister of peace, this restless +prelate, half soldier, half pastor, meddling in all these cabals and +seditious schemes organized for his own undoing, but nevertheless, he +was really the fomenter of all of them. They were his devices for +preventing the nobility from combining against him. He set one cabal +to watch another, and there was never a conspiracy entered into that +he did not prepare a similar conspiracy through his numerous secret +agents and thus split into harmless nothings and weak attempts what +would have been fatal to a continuance of his power. His tricks were +nothing but the ordinary everyday methods of the modern ward +politician making the dear people believe he is doing one thing when +he is doing another. The stern man pitted one antagonist against +another until both sued for peace and pardon. The nobility were honest +in their likes and dislikes, but they did not understand double +dealings and therefore the craft of Richelieu was not even suspected. + +Soon he corrupted by his secret intrigues the fidelity of the nobles +and destroyed the integrity of the people. Then it was, as Cyrano +says: "The world saw billows of scum vomited upon the royal purple and +upon that of the church." Vile rhyming poets, without merit or virtue, +sold their villainous productions to the enemies of the state to be +used in goading the people to riot. Obscene and filthy vaudevilles, +defamatory libels and infamous slanders were as common as bread, and +were hurled back and forth as evidence of an internecine strife which +was raging around the wearer of the Roman scarlet, who was thereby +justified in continuing his ecclesiastical rule to prevent the +wrecking of the throne. + +Ninon had always been an ardent supporter of the throne, and on that +account imagined herself to be the enemy of Richelieu. There were many +others who believed the same thing. They did not know that should the +great Cardinal withdraw his hand for a single moment there would not +be any more throne. When the human hornets around him became annoying +he was accustomed to pretend to withdraw his sustaining hand, then the +throne would tremble and totter, but he always came to the rescue; +indeed, there was no other man who could rescue it. Cabals, plots, and +conspiracies became so thick around Ninon at one period that she was +frightened. Scarron's house became a rendezvous for the factious and +turbulent. Madame Scarron was aiming at the throne, that is, she was +opening the way to capture the heart of the king. This was too much +for Ninon, who was more modest in her ambitions, and she fled +frightened. + +The Marquis de Villarceaux received her with open arms at his château +some distance from Paris, and that was her home for three years. There +were loud protests at this desertion from her coterie of friends, and +numerous dark threats were uttered against the gallant Marquis who had +thus captured the queen of the "Birds," but Ninon explained her +reason in such a plausible manner that their complaints subsided into +good-natured growls. She hoped to prevent a political conflagration +emanating from her social circle by scattering the firebrands, and she +succeeded admirably. The Marquis was constantly with her, permitting +nobody to intervene between them, and provided her with a perpetual +round of amusements that made the time pass very quickly. Moreover, +she was faithful to the Marquis, so wonderful a circumstance that her +friend and admirer wrote an elegy upon that circumstance, in which he +draws a picture of the pleasures of the ancients in ruralizing, but +reproaches Ninon for indulging in a passion for so long a period to +the detriment of her other friends and admirers. But Ninon was happy +in attaining the summit of her desire, which was to defeat Madame +Scarron, her rival in the affections of the Marquis, keeping the +latter by her side for three whole years as has already been said. + +However delighted Ninon may have been with this arrangement, the +Marquis, himself, did not repose upon a bed of roses. The jealousy of +the "Birds" gave him no respite, he being obliged in honor to respond +to their demands for an explanation of his conduct in carrying off +their leader, generally insisting upon the so-called field of honor as +the most appropriate place for giving a satisfactory answer. They even +invaded his premises until they forced him to make them some +concessions in the way of permission to see the object of their +admiration, and to share in her society. The Marquis was proud of his +conquest, the very idea of a three years' tête à tête with the most +volatile heart in France being sufficient to justify him in boasting +of his prowess, but whenever he ventured to do so a champion on the +part of Ninon always stood ready to make him either eat his words or +fight to maintain them. + +Madame Scarron, whom he so basely deserted for the superior charms of +her friend Ninon, often gave him a bad quarter of an hour. When she +became the mistress of the king and, as Madame de Maintenon, really +held the reins of power, visions of the Bastile thronged his brain. He +knew perfectly well that he had scorned the charms of Madame Scarron, +who believed them irresistible, and that he deserved whatever +punishment she might inflict upon him. She might have procured a +lettre de cachet, had him immured in a dungeon or his head removed +from his shoulders as easily as order a dinner, but she did nothing to +gratify a spirit of revenge, utterly ignoring his existence. + +Added to these trifling circumstances, trifling in comparison with +what follows, was the furious jealousy of his wife, Madame la +Marquise. She was violently angry and did not conceal her hatred for +the woman who had stolen her husband's affections. The Marquise was a +trifle vulgar and common in her manner of manifesting her displeasure, +but the Marquis, a very polite and affable gentleman, did not pay the +slightest attention to his wife's daily recriminations, but continued +to amuse himself with the charming Ninon. + +Under such circumstances each was compelled to have a separate social +circle, the Marquis entertaining his friends with the adorable Ninon +as the center of attraction, and Madame la Marquise doing her best to +offer counter attractions. Somehow, Ninon drew around her all the most +desirable partis among the flower of the nobility and wits, leaving +the social circle managed by la Marquise to languish for want of +stamina. It was a constant source of annoyance to the Marquise to see +her rival's entertainments so much in repute and her own so poorly +attended, and she was at her wits' end to devise something that would +give them éclat. One of her methods, and an impromptu scene at one of +her drawing-rooms, will serve to show the reason why Madame la +Marquise was not in good repute and why she could not attract the +élite of Paris to her entertainments. + +La Marquise was a very vain, moreover, a very ignorant woman, a +"nouvelle riche" in fact, or what might be termed in modern parlance +"shoddy," without tact, sense, or savoir faire. One day at a grand +reception, some of her guests desired to see her young son, of whom +she was very proud, and of whose talents and virtues she was always +boasting. He was sent for and came into the presence accompanied by +his tutor, an Italian savant who never left his side. From praising +his beauty of person, they passed to his mental qualities. Madame la +Marquise, enchanted at the caresses her son was receiving and aiming +to create a sensation by showing off his learning, took it into her +head to have his tutor put him through an examination in history. + +"Interrogate my son upon some of his recent lessons in history," said +she to the tutor, who was not at all loth to show his own attainments +by the brilliancy of his pupil. + +"Come, now, Monsieur le Marquis," said the tutor with alacrity, "Quem +habuit successorem Belus rex Assiriorum?" (Whom did Belus, king of the +Assyrians, have for successor?) + +It so happened that the tutor had taught the boy to pronounce the +Latin language after the Italian fashion. Wherefore, when the lad +answered "Ninum," who was really the successor of Belus, king of the +Assyrians, he pronounced the last two letters "um" like the French +nasal "on," which gave the name of the Assyrian king the same sound as +that of Ninon de l'Enclos, the terrible bête noir of the jealous +Marquise. This was enough to set her off into a spasm of fury against +the luckless tutor, who could not understand why he should be so +berated over a simple question and its correct answer. The Marquise +not understanding Latin, and guided only by the sound of the answer, +which was similar to the name of her hated rival, jumped at the +conclusion that he was answering some question about Ninon de +l'Enclos. + +"You are giving my son a fine education," she snapped out before all +her guests, "by entertaining him with the follies of his father. From +the answer of the young Marquis I judge of the impertinence of your +question. Go, leave my sight, and never enter it again." + +The unfortunate tutor vainly protested that he did not comprehend her +anger, that he meant no affront, that there was no other answer to be +made than "Ninum," unfortunately, again pronouncing the word "Ninon," +which nearly sent the lady into a fit of apoplexy with rage at hearing +the tabooed name repeated in her presence. The incensed woman carried +the scene to a ridiculous point, refusing to listen to reason or +explanation. + +"No, he said 'Ninon,' and Ninon it was." + +The story spread all over Paris, and when it reached Ninon, she +laughed immoderately, her friends dubbing her "The successor of +Belus." Ninon told Molière the ridiculous story and he turned it to +profit in one of his comedies in the character of Countess +d'Escarbagnas. + +At the expiration of three years, peace had come to France after a +fashion, the cabals were not so frequent and the rivalry between the +factions not so bitter. Whatever differences there had been were +patched up or smoothed over. Ninon's return to the house in the Rue +des Tournelles was hailed with joy by her "Birds," who received her as +one returned from the dead. Saint-Evremond composed an elegy beginning +with these lines: + +Chère Philis, qu'êtes vous devenues? +Cet enchanteur qui vous a retenue +Depuis trois ans par un charme nouveau +Vous retient-il en quelque vieux château? + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Marquis de Sévigné + + +It has been attempted to cast odium upon the memory of Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos because of her connection with the second Marquis de Sévigné, +son of the celebrated Madame de Sévigné, whose letters have been read +far and wide by those who fancy they can find something in them with +reference to the morals and practices of the court of Versailles +during her period. + +The Marquis de Sévigné, by a vitiated taste quite natural in men of +weak powers, had failed to discover in a handsome woman, spirited, +perhaps of too jealous a nature or disposition to be esteemed, the +proper sentiments, or sentiments strong enough to retain his +affections. He implored Ninon to aid him in preserving her affections +and to teach him how to secure her love. Ninon undertook to give him +instructions in the art of captivating women's hearts, to show him the +nature of love and its operations, and to give him an insight into the +nature of women. The Marquis profited by these lessons to fall in love +with Ninon, finding her a thousand times more charming than his +actress or his princess. Madame de Sévigné's letter referring to the +love of her son for Ninon testifies by telling him plainly "Ninon +spoiled your father," that this passion was not so much unknown to +her as it was a matter of indifference. + +The young Chevalier de Vassé often gave brilliant receptions in honor +of Ninon at Saint Cloud, which the Marquis de Sévigné always attended +as the mutual friend of both. De Vassé was well acquainted with +Ninon's peculiarities and knew that the gallantry of such a man as de +Sévigné was a feeble means of retaining the affections of a heart that +was the slave of nothing but its own fugitive desires. But he was a +man devoted to his friends and, being Epicurean in his philosophy, he +did not attempt to interfere with the affection he perceived growing +between Ninon and his friend. It never occurred to the Marquis that he +was guilty of a betrayal of friendship by paying court to Ninon, and +the latter took the Marquis' attentions as a matter of course without +considering the ingratitude of her conduct. She rather flattered +herself at having been sufficiently attractive to capture a man of de +Seine's family distinction. She had captured the heart of de Soigné, +the father, and had received so many animadversions upon her conduct +from Madame de Sévigné, that it afforded her great pleasure to "spoil" +the son as she had the father. + +But her satisfaction was short-lived, for she had the chagrin to learn +soon after her conquest that de Sévigné had perished on the field of +honor at the hands of Chevalier d'Albret. Her sorrow was real, of +course, but the fire lighted by the senses is small and not enduring, +and when the occasion arises regret is not eternalized, besides there +were others waiting with impatience. His successful rival out of the +way, de Vassé supposed he had a clear field, but he did not attain his +expected happiness. He was no longer pleasing to Ninon and she did no: +hesitate to make him understand that he could never hope to win her +heart. According to her philosophy there is nothing so shameful in a +tender friendship as the art of dissimulation. + +As has been said, much odium has been cast upon Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos in this de Sévigné matter. It all grew out of the dislike of +Madame de Sévigné for a woman who attracted even her own husband and +son from her side and heart, and for whom her dearest friends +professed the most intimate attachment. Madame de Grignan, the proud, +haughty daughter of the house of de Sévigné, did not scruple to array +herself on the side of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos with Madame de +Coulanges, another bright star among the noble and respectable +families of France. + +"Women have the privilege of being weak," says Madame de Sévigné, "and +they make use of that privilege without scruple." + +Women had never, before the time of Ninon, exercised their rights of +weakness to such an unlimited extent. There was neither honor nor +honesty to be found among them. They were common to every man who +attracted their fancy without regard to fidelity to any one in +particular. The seed sown by the infamous Catherine de Medici, the +utter depravity of the court of Charles IX, and the profligacy of +Henry IV, bore an astonishing supply of bitter fruit. The love of +pleasure had, so to speak, carried every woman off her feet, and there +was no limit to their abuses. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, while devoting +herself to a life of pleasure, followed certain philosophical rules +and regulations which removed from the unrestrained freedom of the +times the stigma of commonness and conferred something of +respectability upon practices that nowadays would be considered +horribly immoral, but which then were regarded as nothing uncommon, +nay, were legitimate and proper. The cavaliers cut one another's +throats for the love of God and in the cause of religion, and the +women encouraged the arts, sciences, literature, and the drama, by +conferring upon talent, wit, genius and merit favors which were deemed +conducive as encouragements to the growth of intellect and +spirituality. + +Ninon was affected by the spirit of the times, and being a woman, it +was impossible for her to resist desire when aided by philosophy and +force of example. Her intimacy with de Sévigné grew out of her attempt +to teach a young, vigorous, passionate man how to gain the love of a +cold-blooded, vain and conceited woman. Her letters will show the +various stages of her desires as she went along vainly struggling to +beat something like comprehension into the dull brain of a clod, who +could not understand the simplest principle of love, or the smallest +point in the female character. At last she resolved to use an argument +that was convincing with the brightest minds with whom she had ever +dealt, that is, the power of her own love, and if the Marquis had +lived, perhaps he might have become an ornament to society and an +honor to his family. + +To do this, however, she violated her compact with de Vassé, betrayed +his confidence and opened the way for the animadversions of Madame de +Sévigné. At that time de Sévigné was in love with an actress, +Mademoiselle Champmêlé, but desired to withdraw his affections, or +rather transfer them to a higher object, a countess, or a princess, as +the reader may infer from his mother's hints in one of her letters to +be given hereafter. To Ninon, therefore, he went for instruction and +advice as to the best course to pursue to get rid of one love and on +with a new. Madame de Sévigné and Madame de La Fayette vainly implored +him to avoid Ninon as he would the pest. The more they prayed and +entreated, the closer he came to Ninon until she became his ideal. +Ninon, herself was captivated by his pleasant conversation, agreeable +manners and seductive traits. She knew that he had had a love affair +with Champmêlé, the actress, and when she began to obtain an +ascendency over his mind, she wormed out of him all the letters he had +ever received from the comedienne. Some say it was jealousy on Ninon's +part, but any one who reads her letters to de Sévigné will see between +the lines a disposition on his part to wander away after a new +charmer. Others, however, say that she intended to send them to the +Marquis de Tonnerre, whom the actress had betrayed for de Sévigné. + +But Madame de Sévigné, to whom her son had confessed his folly in +giving up the letters, perhaps fearing to be embroiled in a +disgraceful duel over an actress, made him blush at his cruel +sacrifice of a woman who loved him, and made him understand that even +in dishonesty there were certain rules of honesty to be observed. She +worked upon his mind until he felt that he had committed a +dishonorable act, and when he had reached that point, it was easy to +get the letters away from Ninon partly by artifice, partly by force. +Madame de Sévigné tells the story in a letter to her daughter, Madame +de Grignan: + +"Elle (Ninon) voulut l'autre jour lui faire donner des lettres de la +comedienne (Champmêlé); il les lui donna; elle en était jalouse; elle +voulait les donner à un amant de la princesse, afin de lui faire +donner quelque coups de baudrier. Il me le vint dire: je lui fis voir +que c'était une infamie de couper ainsi la gorge à une petite créature +pour l'avoir aimer; je representai qu'elle n'avait point sacrifié ses +lettres, comme on voulait lui faire croire pour l'animer. Il entra +dans mes raisons; il courut chez Ninon, et moitié par adresse, et +moitié par force, il retira les lettres de cette pauvre diablesse." + +It was easy for a doting mother like Madame de Sévigné to credit +everything her son manufactured for her delectation. The dramatic +incident of de Sévigné taking letters from Ninon de l'Enclos partly by +ingenuity and partly by force, resembled his tale that he had left +Ninon and that he did not care for her while all the time they were +inseparable. He was truly a lover of Penelope, the bow of Ulysses +having betrayed his weakness. + +"The malady of his soul," says his mother, "afflicted his body. He +thought himself like the good Esos; he would have himself boiled in a +caldron with aromatic herbs to restore his vigor." + +But Ninon's opinion of him was somewhat different. She lamented his +untimely end, but did not hesitate to express her views. + +"He was a man beyond definition," was her panegyric. "He possessed a +soul of pulp, a body of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseed +in snow." + +She finally became ashamed of ever having loved him, and insisted that +they were never more than brother and sister. She tried to make +something out of him by exposing all the secrets of the female heart, +and initiating him in the mysteries of human love, but as she said: +"His heart was a pumpkin fricasseed in snow." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Family Tragedy + + +Some of Ninon's engagements following upon one another in quick +succession were the cause of an unusual disagreement, not to say +quarrel, between two rivals in her affections. A Marshal of France, +d'Estrées and the celebrated Abbé Deffiat disputed the right of +parentage, the dispute waxing warm because both contended for the +honor and could not see any way out of their difficulty, neither +consenting to make the slightest concession. Ninon, however, calmed +the tempest by suggesting a way out of the difficulty through the +hazard of the dice. Luck or good fortune for the waif declared in +favor of the warrior, who made a better guardian than the Abbé could +possibly have done, and brought him greater happiness. + +Ninon surrendered all her maternal rights in the child to the worthy +Marshal, who became in reality a tender and affectionate father to the +waif, cared for him tenderly and raised him up to a good position in +life. He placed him in the marine service, where, as the Chevalier de +la Bossière, he reached the grade of captain of a vessel, and died at +an advanced age respected by his brother officers and by all who knew +him. He inherited some of the talents of his mother, particularly +music, in which he was remarkably proficient. His apartments at +Toulon, where he was stationed, were crowded with musical instruments +and the works of the greatest masters. All the musicians traveling +back and forth between Italy and France made his house their +headquarters. The Chevalier accorded them a generous welcome on all +occasions; the only return demanded was an exhibition of their +proficiency in instrumental music. + +The happiness of this son solaced Ninon for his unfortunate birth, and +it would have been happy for her had she never had a second. But her +profound love for the Chevalier de Gersay overcame any scruples that +might have arisen in her mind against again yielding to the maternal +instinct, and another son came to her, one who was destined to meet a +most horrible fate and cause her the most exquisite mental torture. + +This de Gersay, who was famous for the temerity of his passion for the +queen, Anne of Austria, a fact he announced from the housetops of +Paris in his delirium, was as happy as a king over the boy that came +to him so unexpectedly, and lavished upon him the most extravagant +affection. He took him to his heart and trained him up in all the +accomplishments taught those of the highest rank and most noble blood. +The boy grew up and received the name of Chevalier de Villiers, +becoming a credit to his father. + +His mother was beyond sixty years of age when de Villiers began to +enter society, and her beauty was still remarkable according to the +chronicles of the times and the allusions made to it in the current +literature. She was as attractive in her appearance, and as lovable as +at twenty years of age, few, even among the younger habitués of her +drawing-rooms being able to resist the charms of her person. Her house +was thronged with the élite of French society, young men of noble +families being designedly sent into her society to acquire taste, +grace, and polish which they were unable to acquire elsewhere. Ninon +possessed a singular genius for inspiring men with high and noble +sentiments, and her schooling in the art of etiquette was marvelous in +its details and perfection. Her power was practically a repetition of +the history of the Empress Theodora, whose happy admirers and +intimates could be distinguished from all others by their exquisite +politeness, culture, finish and social polish. It was the same in +Ninon's school, the graduates of which occupied the highest rank in +letters, society, statesmanship, and military genius. + +De Gersay intending his son to fill a high position in society and +public honors, sent him to this school, where he was received and put +upon the same footing as other youth of high birth, and was duly +trained with them in all the arts and accomplishments of refined +society. The young man was not aware of his parentage, de Gersay +having extracted a solemn promise from Mademoiselle de l'Enclos that +she would never divulge the secret of the youth's birth without his +father's express consent, a promise which resulted in the most +disastrous consequences. + +Ninon, as mother of this handsome youth, admired him, and manifested a +tenderness which he misunderstood for the emotion of love, Ninon, +herself never contemplating such a fatality, and ended by becoming +enamored of his own mother. Ninon thought nothing of his passion, +believing that it would soon pass away, but it increased in intensity, +becoming a violent flame which finally proved irresistible, forcing +the youth to fall at his mother's feet and pour forth his passion in +the most extravagant language. + +Alarmed at this condition of her son's heart, Ninon withdrew from his +society, refusing to admit him to her presence. Although the Chevalier +was an impetuous wooer, he was dismayed by the loss of his inamorata, +and begged for the privilege of seeing her, promising solemnly never +to repeat his declaration of love. Ninon was deceived by his +professions and re-admitted him to her society. Insensibly, however, +perhaps in despite of his struggle to overcome his amorous +propensities, the Chevalier violated the conditions of the truce. +Ninon, on the watch for a repetition of his former manifestations, +quickly perceived the return of a love so abhorrent to nature. His +sighs, glances, sadness when in her presence, were signs to her of a +passion that she would be compelled to subdue with a strong, ruthless +hand. + +"Raise your eyes to that clock," she said to him one day, "and mark +the passing of time. Rash boy, it is sixty-five years since I came +into the world. Does it become me to listen to a passion like love? +Is it possible at my age to love or be loved? Enter within yourself, +Chevalier, and see how ridiculous are your desires and those you would +arouse in me." + +All Ninon's remonstrances, however, tended only to increase the +desires which burned in the young man's breast. His mother's tears, +which now began to flow, were regarded by the youth as trophies of +success. + +"What, tears?" he exclaimed, "you shed tears for me? Are they wrung +from your heart by pity, by tenderness? Ah, am I to be blessed?" + +"This is terrible," she replied, "it is insanity. Leave me, and do not +poison the remainder of a life which I detest." + +"What language is this?" exclaimed the Chevalier. "What poison can the +sweetness of making still another one happy instill into the loveliest +life? Is this the tender and philosophic Ninon? Has she not raised +between us that shadow of virtue that makes her sex adorable? What +chimeras have changed your heart? Shall I tell you? You carry your +cruelty to the extent of fighting against yourself, resisting your own +desires. I have seen in your eyes a hundred times less resistance than +you now set against me. And these tears which my condition has drawn +from your eyes--tell me, are they shed through indifference or hate? +Are you ashamed to avow a sensibility which honors humanity?" + +"Cease, Chevalier," said Ninon, raising her hand in protest, "the +right to claim my liveliest friendship rested with you, I thought you +worthy of it. That is the cause of the friendly looks which you have +mistaken for others of greater meaning, and it is also the cause of +the tears I shed. Do not flatter yourself that you have inspired me +with the passion of love. I can see too plainly that your desires are +the effect of a passing presumption. Come now, you shall know my +heart, and it should destroy all hope for you. It will go so far as to +hate you, if you repeat your protestations of blind tenderness. I do +not care to understand you, leave me, to regret the favors you have so +badly interpreted." + +When Ninon learned that her son was plunged into despair and fury on +account of her rejection of his love, her heart was torn with sorrow +and she regretted that she had not at first told him the secret of his +birth, but her solemn promise to de Gersay had stood in her way. She +determined now to remedy the evil and she therefore applied to de +Gersay to relieve her from her promise. De Gersay advised her to +communicate the truth to her son as soon as possible to prevent a +catastrophe which he prophesied was liable to happen when least +expected. She accordingly wrote the Chevalier that at a certain time +she would be at her house in the Saint Antoine suburb and prayed him +to meet her there. The impassioned Chevalier, expecting nothing less +than the gratification of his desires, prepared himself with extreme +care and flew to the assignation. He was disconcerted, however, by +finding Ninon despondent and sad, instead of smiling and joyful with +anticipation. However, he cast himself at her feet, seized her hand +and covered it with tears and kisses. + +"Unfortunate," cried Ninon submitting to his embraces, "there are +destinies beyond human prudence to direct. What have I not attempted +to do to calm your agitated spirit? What mystery do you force me to +unfold?" + +"Ah, you are about to deceive me again," interrupted the Chevalier, "I +do not perceive in your eyes the love I had the right to expect. I +recognize in your obscure language an injustice you are about to +commit; you hope to cure me of my love, but disabuse yourself of that +fancy; the cruel triumph you seek to win is beyond the united strength +of both of us, above any imaginable skill, beyond the power of reason +itself. It seems to listen to nothing but its own intoxication, and at +the same time rush to the last extremity." + +"Stop," exclaimed Ninon, indignant at this unreasoning folly, "this +horrible love shall not reach beyond the most sacred duties. Stop, I +tell you, monster that you are, and shudder with dismay. Can love +flourish where horror fills the soul? Do you know who you are and who +I am? The lover you are pursuing--" + +"Well! That lover?" demanded the Chevalier. + +"Is your mother," replied Ninon; "you owe me your birth. It is my son +who sighs at my feet, who talks to me of love. What sentiments do you +think you have inspired me with? Monsieur de Gersay, your father, +through an excess of affection for you, wished you to remain ignorant +of your birth. Ah, my son, by what fatality have you compelled me to +reveal this secret? You know to what degree of opprobrium the +prejudiced have put one of your birth, wherefore it was necessary to +conceal it from your delicacy of mind, but you would not have it so. +Know me as your mother, oh, my son, and pardon me for having given you +life." + +Ninon burst into a flood of tears and pressed her son to her heart, +but he seemed to be crushed by the revelations he heard. Pale, +trembling, nerveless, he dared not pronounce the sweet name of mother, +for his soul was filled with horror at his inability to realize the +relationship sufficiently to destroy the burning passion he felt for +her person. He cast one long look into her eyes, bent them upon the +ground, arose with a deep sigh and fled. A garden offered him a +refuge, and there, in a thick clump of bushes, he drew his sword and +without a moment's hesitation fell upon it, to sink down dying. + +Ninon had followed him dreading some awful calamity, and there, in the +dim light of the stars, she found her son weltering in his blood, shed +by his own hand for love of her. His dying eyes which he turned toward +her still spoke ardent love, and he expired while endeavoring to utter +words of endearment. + +Le Sage in the romance of Gil Blas has painted this horrible +catastrophe of Ninon de l'Enclos in the characters of the old woman +Inisilla de Cantarilla, and the youth Don Valerio de Luna. The +incident is similar to that which happened to Oedipus, the Theban who +tore out his eyes after discovering that in marrying Jocasta, the +queen, he had married his own mother. Le Sage's hero, however, mourns +because he had not been able to commit the crime, which gives the case +of Ninon's son a similar tinge, his self-immolation being due, not to +the horror of having indulged in criminal love for his own mother, but +to the regret at not having been able to accomplish his purpose. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Her Bohemian Environments + + +The daily and nightly doings at Ninon's house in the Rue des +Tournelles, if there is anything of a similar character in modern +society that can be compared to them, might be faintly represented by +our Bohemian circles, where good cheer, good fellowship, and freedom +from restraint are supposed to reign. There are, indeed, numerous +clubs at the present day styled "Bohemian," but except so far as the +tendency to relaxation appears upon the surface, they possess very few +of the characteristics of that society of "Birds" that assembled +around Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. They put aside all conventional +restraint, and the mental metal of those choice spirits clashed and +evolved brilliant sparks, bright rays of light, the luster of which +still glitters after a lapse of more than two centuries. + +Personally, Ninon was an enemy of pedantry in every form, demanding of +her followers originality at all times on penalty of banishment from +her circle. The great writer, Mynard, once related with tears in his +eyes that his daughter, who afterward became the Countess de +Feuquières, had no memory. Whereat Ninon laughed him out of his +sorrow: + +"You are too happy in having a daughter who has no memory; she will +not be able to make citations." + +That her society was sought by very good men is evidenced by the grave +theologians who found her companionship pleasant, perhaps salutary. A +celebrated Jesuit who did not scruple to find entertainment in her +social circle, undertook to combat her philosophy and show her the +truth from his point of view, but she came so near converting him to +her tenets that he abandoned the contest remarking with a laugh: + +"Well, well, Mademoiselle, while waiting to be convinced that you are +in error, offer up to God your unbelief." Rousseau has converted this +incident into an epigram. + +The grave and learned clergy of Port Royal also undertook the labor of +converting her, but their labor was in vain. + +"You know," she told Fontenelle, "what use I make of my body? Well, +then, it would be easier for me to obtain a good price for my soul, +for the Jansenists and Molinists are engaged in a competition of +bidding for it." + +She was not bigoted in the least, as the following incident will show: +One of her friends refused to send for a priest when in extremis, but +Ninon brought one to his bedside, and as the clergyman, knowing the +scepticism of the dying sinner, hesitated to exercise his functions, +she encouraged him to do his duty: + +"Do your duty, sir," she said, "I assure you that although our friend +can argue, he knows no more about the truth than you and I." + +The key to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos' character is to be found in her +toleration and liberality. Utterly unselfish, she had no thoughts +beyond the comfort and, happiness of her friends. For them she +sacrificed her person, an astounding sacrifice in a woman, one for +which a multitude have suffered martyrdom for refusing to make, and +are cited as models of virtue to be followed. Yet, notwithstanding her +strange misapplication or perversion of what the world calls "female +honor," her world had nothing but the most profound respect and +admiration for her. It requires an extremely delicate pencil to sketch +such a character, and even then, a hundred trials might result in +failing to seize upon its most vivid lights and shades and bring out +its best points. + +Standing out clearly defined through her whole life was a noble soul +that never stooped to anything common, low, debasing or vulgar. +Brought up from infancy in the society of men, taught to consider them +as her companions and equals, and treated by them as one of +themselves, she acquired a grace and a polish that made her society +desired by the proudest ladies of the court. There is no one in the +annals of the nations of the earth that can be compared to her. The +Aspasia of Pericles has been regarded by some as a sort of prototype, +but Aspasia was a common woman of the town, her thoughts were devoted +to the aggrandizement of one man, her love affairs were bestowed upon +an open market. On the contrary, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos never +bestowed her favors upon any but one she could ever after regard as an +earnest, unselfish friend. Their friendship was a source of delight to +her and she was Epicurean, in the enjoyment of everything that goes +with friendship. + +Saint-Evremond likens her to Leontium, the Athenian woman, celebrated +for her philosophy and for having dared to write a book against the +great Theophrastus, a literary venture which may have been the reason +why Saint-Evremond gave Ninon the title. Ninon's heart was weak, it is +true, but she had early learned those philosophical principles which +drew her senses away from that portion of her soul, and her +environments were those most conducive to the cultivation of the +senses which are so easily led away into seductive paths. But however +far her love of pleasure may have led her, her philosophical ideas and +practices did not succeed in destroying or even weakening any other +virtue. "The smallest fault of gallant women," says de la +Rochefoucauld, "is their gallantry." + +The distinguished Abbé Châteauneuf expresses a trait in her character +which drew to her side the most distinguished men of the period. + +"She reserved all her esteem, all her confidence for friendship, which +she always regarded as a respectable liaison," says the Abbé, "and to +maintain that friendship she permitted no diminution or relaxation." + +In other words she was constant and true, without whims or caprice. +The Comte de Segur, in his work on "Women, their Condition and +Influence in Society," says: "While Ninon de l'Enclos was fostering +and patronizing genius, and giving it opportunities to expand, Madame +de Sévigné was at the head of a cabal in opposition to genius, unless +it was measured upon her own standard. In her self-love she wrought +against Racine and sought to diminish the literary luster of Flèchier. +But with all her ability Madame de Sévigné possessed very little +genius or tact, and her lack of discrimination is apparent in the fact +that none of her protégés ever reached any distinction. Moreover, her +virtues must have been of an appalling character since they were not +strong enough to save her husband and son from falling into the +clutches of "That horrid woman," referring to Ninon. + +Ninon certainly understood men; she divined them at the first glance +and provided for their bodily and intellectual wants. If they were +deemed worthy of her favors, she bestowed them freely, and out of one +animal desire gratified, there were created a thousand intellectual +aspirations. She understood clearly that man can not be all animal or +all spiritual, and that the attempt to divert nature from its duality +of being was to wreck humanity and make of man neither fish, flesh nor +fowl. Her constant prayer in her younger days, for the truth of which +Voltaire vouches, was: + +"Mon Dieu, faîtes de moi un honnête homme, et n'en faîtes jamais une +honnête femme." (My God, make me an honest man, but never an honest +woman). + +Count Segur, in his book already referred to, has this to say further +concerning Ninon: + +"Ninon shone under the reign of Louis XIV like a graceful plant in its +proper soil. Splendor seemed to be her element. That Ninon might +appear in the sphere that became her, it was necessary that Turenne +and Condé should sigh at her feet, that Voltaire should receive from +her his first lessons, in a word, that in her illustrious cabinet, +glory and genius should be seen sporting with love and the graces." + +Had it not been for the influence of Ninon de l'Enclos--there are many +who claim it as the truth--the sombre tinge, the veil of gloominess +and hypocritical austerity which surrounded Madame de Maintenon and +her court, would have wrecked the intellects of the most illustrious +and brightest men in France, in war, literature, science, and +statesmanship. Madame de Maintenon resisted that influence but the Rue +des Tournelles strove against Saint Cyr. The world fluctuated between +these two systems established by women, both of them--shall it be +said--courtesans? The legality and morality of our modern common law +marriages and the ease and frequency of trivial divorces forbid it. +Ninon prevailed, however, and not only governed hearts but souls. The +difference between the two courts was, the royal salon was thronged +with women of the most infamous character who had nothing but their +infamy to bestow, while the drawing rooms of Ninon de l'Enclos were +crowded with men almost exclusively, and men of wit and genius. + +The moral that the majority of writers draw from the three courts that +occupied society at that time, the Rue des Tournelles, Madame de +Sévigné, and Versailles, is, that men demand human nature and will +have it in preference to abnormal goodness, and female debauchery. +Ninon never hesitated to declaim against the fictitious beauty that +pretended to inculcate virtue and morality while secretly engaged in +the most corrupt practices, but Molière came with his Précieuses +Ridicules and pulverized the enemies of human nature. Ninon did not +know Molière personally at that time but she was so loud in his praise +for covering her gross imitators with confusion, that Bachaumont and +Chapelle, two of her intimate friends, ventured to introduce the young +dramatist into her society. The father of this Bachaumont who was a +twin, said of him: "My son who is only half a man, wants to do as if +he were a whole one." Though only "half a man" and extremely feeble +and delicate, he became a voluptuary according to the ideas of +Chapelle, and by devoting himself to the doctrines of Epicurus, he +managed to live until eighty years of age. Chapelle was a drunkard as +has been intimated in a preceding chapter, and although he loved Ninon +passionately, she steadily refused to favor him. + +Molière and Ninon were mutually attracted, each recognizing in the +other not only a kindred spirit, but something not apparent on the +surface. Nature had given them the same eyes, and they saw men and +things from the same view point. Molière was destined to enlighten his +age by his pen, and Ninon through her wise counsel and sage +reflections. In speaking of Molière to Saint-Evremond, she declared +with fervor: + +"I thank God every night for finding me a man of his spirit, and I +pray Him every morning to preserve him from the follies of the heart." + +There was a great opposition to Molière's comedy "Tartuffe." It +created a sensation in society, and neither Louis XIV, the prelates of +the kingdom and the Roman legate, were strong enough to withstand the +torrents of invectives that came from those who were unmasked in the +play. They succeeded in having it interdicted, and the comedy was on +the point of being suppressed altogether, when Molière took it to +Ninon, read it over to her and asked her opinion as to what had better +be done. With her keen sense of the ridiculous and her knowledge of +character, Ninon went over the play with Molière to such good purpose +that the edict of suppression was withdrawn, the opponents of the +comedy finding themselves in a position where they could no longer +take exceptions without confessing the truth of the inuendoes. + +When the comedy was nearly completed, Molière began trying to think of +a name to give the main character in the play, who is an imposter. One +day while at dinner with the Papal Nuncio, he noticed two +ecclesiastics, whose air of pretended mortification fairly represented +the character he had depicted in the play. While considering them +closely, a peddler came along with truffles to sell. One of the pious +ecclesiastics who knew very little Italian, pricked up his ears at the +word truffles, which seemed to have a familiar sound. Suddenly coming +out of his devout silence, he selected several of the finest of the +truffles, and holding them out to the nuncio, exclaimed with a laugh: +"Tartuffoli, Tartuffoli, signor Nuncio!" imagining that he was +displaying his knowledge of the Italian language by calling out +"Truffles, truffles, signor Nuncio," whereas, what he did say was +"Hypocrites, hypocrites, Signor Nuncio." Molière who was always a +close and keen observer of everything that transpired around him, +seized upon the name "Tartuffe" as suitable to the hypocritical +imposter in his comedy. + +Ninon's brilliancy was so animated, particularly at table, that she +was said to be intoxicated at the soup, although she rarely drank +anything but water. Her table was always surrounded by the wittiest of +her friends and her own flashes kept their spirits up to the highest +point. The charm of her conversation was equal to the draughts of +Nepenthe which Helen lavished upon her guests, according to Homer to +charm and enchant them. + +One story told about Ninon is not to her credit if true, and it is +disputed. A great preacher arose in France, the "Eagle of the Pulpit," +as he was called, or "The great Pan," as Madame de Sévigné, loved to +designate him. His renown for eloquence and piety reached Ninon's ears +and she conceived a scheme, so it is said; to bring this great orator +to her feet. She had held in her chains from time to time, all the +heroes, and illustrious men of France, and she considered Père +Bourdaloue worthy of a place on the list. She accordingly arrayed +herself in her most fascinating costume, feigned illness and sent for +him. But Père Bourdaloue was not a man to be captivated by any woman, +and, moreover, he was a man too deeply versed in human perversity to +be easily deceived. He came at her request, however, and to her +question as to her condition he answered: "I perceive that your malady +exists only in your heart and mind; as to your body, it appears to me +to be in perfect health. I pray the great physician of souls that he +will heal you." Saying which he left her without ceremony. + +The story is probably untrue and grew out of a song of the times, to +ridicule the attempts of numerous preachers to convert Ninon from her +way of living. They frequented her social receptions but those were +always public, as she never trusted herself to any one without the +knowledge and presence of some of her "Birds," taking that precaution +for her own safety and to avoid any appearance of partiality. The song +referred to, composed by some unknown scribe begins as follows: + +"Ninon passe les jours au jeu: +Cours où l'amour te porte; +Le prédicateur qui t'exhorte, +S'il était au coin de ton feu, +Te parlerait d'un autre sorte." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A Remarkable Old Age + + +When Ninon had reached the age of sixty-five years, there were those +among the beauties of the royal court who thought she ought to retire +from society and make way for them, but there appeared to be no +diminution of her capacity for pleasure, no weakening of her powers of +attraction. The legend of the Noctambule, or the little black man, who +appeared to Ninon when she was at the age of twenty years, and +promised her perpetual beauty and the conquest of all hearts, was +revived, and there was enough probability in it to justify a strong +belief in the story. Indeed, the Abbé Servien spread it about again +when Ninon was seventy years of age, and even then there were few who +disputed the mysterious gift as Ninon showed little change. + +As old age approached, Ninon ceased to be regarded with that +familiarity shown her by her intimates in her younger days, and a +respect and admiration took its place. She was no longer "Ninon," but +"Mademoiselle de l'Enclos." Her social circle widened, and instead of +being limited to men exclusively, ladies eagerly took advantage of the +privilege accorded them to frequent the charming circle. That circle +certainly became celebrated. The beautiful woman had lived the life of +an earnest Epicurean in her own way, regardless of society's +conventionalities, and had apparently demonstrated that her way was +the best. She had certainly attained a long life, and what was more to +the purpose she had preserved her beauty and the attractions of her +person were as strong as when she was in her prime. Reason enough why +the women of the age thronged her apartments to learn the secret of +her life. Moreover, her long and intimate associations with the most +remarkable men of the century had not failed to impart to her, in +addition to her exquisite femininity, the wisdom of a sage and the +polish of a man of the world. + +Madame de La Fayette, that "rich field so fertile in fruits," as Ninon +said of her, and Madame de la Sablière, "a lovely garden enameled with +eye-charming flowers," another of Ninon's descriptive metaphors, +passed as many hours as they could in her society with the illustrious +Duke de la Rochefoucauld, who, up to the time of his death honored +Ninon with his constant friendship and his devoted esteem. Even Madame +de Sévigné put aside her envy and jealousy and never wearied of the +pleasure of listening to the conversation of this wise beauty, in +company with her haughty daughter, Madame de Grignan, Madame de +Coulanges, Madame de Torp, and, strange to say, the Duchess de +Bouillon. + +Her friends watched over her health with the tenderest care and +affection, and even her slightest indisposition brought them around +her with expressions of the deepest solicitude. They dreaded losing +her, for having had her so long among them they hoped to keep her +always, and they did, practically, for she outlived the most of them. +As proof of the anxiety of her friends and the delight they +experienced at her recovery from the slightest ailment, one +illustration will suffice. + +On one occasion she had withdrawn from her friends for a single +evening, pleading indisposition. The next evening she reappeared and +her return was celebrated by an original poem written by no less a +personage than the Abbé Regnier-Desmarais, who read it to the friends +assembled around her chair: + +"Clusine qui dans tous les temps + Eut de tous les honnêtes gens + L'amour et l'estime en partage: + Qui toujours pleine de bon sens + Sut de chaque saison de l'âge + Faire à propos un juste usage: +Qui dans son entretien, dont on fut enchanté + Sut faire un aimable alliage + De l'agreable badinage, + Avec la politesse et la solidité, + Et que le ciel doua d'un esprit droit et sage, + Toujours d'intelligence avec la verité, +Clusine est, grâce au ciel, en parfaite santé." + +Such a poem would not be accorded much praise nowadays, but the hearts +of her friends regarded the sentiments more than the polish, as a +substantial translation into English will serve to show appeared in +the lines: + +Clusine who from our earliest ken + Had from all good and honest men + Love and esteem a generous share: + Who knew so well the season when + Her heritage of sense so rare + To use with justice and with care: +Who in her discourse, friends enchanted all-around, + Could fashion out of playful ware + An alloy of enduring wear, + Good breeding and with solid ground, + A heavenly spirit wise and fair, + With truth and intellect profound, +Clusine, thanks be to Heaven, her perfect health has found. + +Her salon was open to her friends in general from five o'clock in the +evening until nine, at which hour she begged them to permit her to +retire and gain strength for the morrow. In winter she occupied a +large apartment decorated with portraits of her dearest male and +female friends, and numerous paintings by celebrated artists. In +summer, she occupied an apartment which overlooked the boulevard, its +walls frescoed with magnificent sketches from the life of Psyche. In +one or the other of these salons, she gave her friends four hours +every evening, after that retiring to rest or amusing herself with a +few intimates. Her friendship finds an apt illustration in the case of +the Comte de Charleval. He was always delicate and in feeble health, +and Ninon when he became her admirer in his youth, resolved to +prolong his life through the application of the Epicurian philosophy. +De Marville, speaking of the Count, whom no one imagined would survive +to middle age, says: "Nature, which gave him so delicate a body in +such perfect form, also gave him a delicate and perfect intelligence." +This frail and delicate invalid, lived, however, until the age of +eighty years, and was always grateful to Ninon for her tenderness. He +never missed a reception and sang her praises on every occasion. +Writing to Saint-Evremond to announce his death, Ninon, herself very +aged, says: "His mind had retained all the charms of his youth, and +his heart all the sweetness and tenderness of a true friend." She felt +the loss of this common friend, for she again writes of him afterward: +"His life and that I live had much in common. It is like dying oneself +to meet with such a loss." + +It was at this period of her life that Ninon occupied her time more +than ever in endearing herself to her friends. As says Saint-Evremond: +"She contents herself with ease and rest, after having enjoyed the +liveliest pleasures of life." Although she was never mistress of the +invincible inclination toward the pleasures of the senses which nature +had given her, it appears that Ninon made some efforts to control +them. Referring to the ashes which are sprinkled on the heads of the +penitent faithful on Ash Wednesday, she insisted that instead of the +usual prayer of abnegation there should be substituted the words: "We +must avoid the movements of love." What she wrote Saint-Evremond +might give rise to the belief that she sometimes regretted her +weakness: "Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of in my +time than many another. However that may be, if any one had proposed +to me such a life I would have hanged myself." One of her favorite +maxims, however, was: "We must provide a stock of provisions and not +of pleasures, they should be taken as they come." + +That her philosophical principles did not change, is certain from the +fact that she retained all her friends and gained new ones who flocked +to her reunions. Says Madame de Coulanges in one of her letters: "The +women are running after Mademoiselle de l'Enclos now as much as the +men used to do. How can any one hate old age after such an example." +This reflection did not originate with Ninon, who regretted little her +former pleasures, and besides, friendship with her had as many sacred +rights as love. From what Madame de Coulanges says, one might suppose +that the men had deserted Ninon in her old age, leaving women to take +their place, but Madame de Sévigné was of a different opinion. She +says: "Corbinelli asks me about the new marvels taking place at +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos' house in the way of good company. She +assembles around her in her old age, whatever Madame de Coulanges may +say to the contrary, both men and women, but even if women did not +flock to her side, she could console herself for having had men in her +young days to please." + +The celebrated English geometrician, Huygens, visited Ninon during a +sojourn at Paris in the capacity of ambassador. He was so charmed +with the attractions of her person, and with her singing, that he fell +into poetry to express his admiration. French verses from an +Englishman who was a geometrician and not a poet, were as surprising +to Ninon and her friends as they will be to the reader. They are not +literature but express what was in the mind of the famous scientist: + +"Elle a cinq instruments dont je suis amoureux, +Les deux premiers, ses mains, les deux autres, ses yeux; +Pour le dernier de tous, et cinquième qui reste, +Il faut être galant et leste." + +In the year 1696, when Ninon had reached eighty, she had several +attacks of illness which worried her friends exceedingly. The Marquis +de Coulanges writes: "Our amiable l'Enclos has a cold which does not +please me." A short time afterward he again wrote: "Our poor l'Enclos +has a low fever which redoubles in the evening, and a sore throat +which worries her friends." These trifling ailments were nothing to +Ninon, who, though growing feeble, maintained her philosophy, as she +said: "I am contenting myself with what happens from day to day; +forgetting to-day what occurred yesterday, and holding on to a used up +body as one that has been very agreeable." She saw the term of her +life coming to an end without any qualms or fear. "If I could only +believe with Madame de Chevreuse, that by dying we can go and talk +with all our friends in the other world, it would be a sweet thought." + +Madame de Maintenon, then in the height of her power and influence, +had never forgotten the friend of her youth, and now, she offered her +lodgings at Versailles. It is said that her intention was to enable +the king to profit by an intimacy with a woman of eighty-five years +who, in spite of bodily infirmities, possessed the same vivacity of +mind and delicacy of taste which had contributed to her great renown, +much more than her personal charms and frailties. But Ninon was born +for liberty, and had never been willing to sacrifice her philosophical +tranquility for the hope of greater fortune and position in the world. +Accordingly, she thanked her old friend, and as the only concession +she would grant, consented to stand in the chapel of Versailles where +Louis the Great could pass and satisfy his curiosity to see once, at +least, the astonishing marvel of his reign. + +During the latter years of her life, she took a fancy to young +Voltaire, in whom she detected signs of future greatness. She +fortified him with her counsel, which he prayed her to give him, and +left him a thousand francs in her will to buy books. Voltaire +attempted to earn the money by ridiculing the memory of his +benefactress. + +At the age of ninety years, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos grew feebler +every day, and felt that death would not be long coming. She performed +all her social duties, however, until the very end, refusing to +surrender until compelled. On the last night of her life, unable to +sleep, she arose, and at her desk wrote the following verses: + +"Qu'un vain espoir ne vienne point s'offrir, +Qui puisse ébranler mon courage; +Je suis en age de mourir; +Que ferais-je ici davantage?" + +(Let no vain hope now come and try, +My courage strong to overthrow; +My age demands that I shall die, +What more can I do here below?) + +On the seventeenth of October, 1706, she expired as gently as one who +falls asleep. + + + + +LETTERS + +OF + +NINON de L'ENCLOS + +TO THE + +MARQUIS de SÉVIGNÉ. + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS + + +The celebrated Abbé de Châteauneuf, in his "Dialogues on Ancient +Music," refers to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos under the name of +"Leontium," a name given her by le Maréchal de Saint-Evremond, and in +his eulogy upon her character, lays great stress on the genius +displayed in her epistolary style. After censuring the affectation to +be found in the letters of Balzac and Voiture, the learned Abbé says: + +"The letters of Leontium, although novel in their form of expression, +although replete with philosophy, and sparkling with wit and +intelligence contain nothing stilted, or overdrawn. + +"Inasmuch as the moral to be drawn from them is always seasoned with +sprightliness, and the spirit manifested in them, displays the +characteristics of a liberal and natural imagination, they differ in +nothing from personal conversation with her choice circle of friends. + +"The impression conveyed to the mind of their readers is, that she is +actually conversing with them personally." + +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos writes about the heart, love, and women. +Strange subjects, but no woman ever lived who was better able to do +justice to them. In her frame of mind, she could not see men without +studying their dispositions, and she knew them thoroughly, her +experience extending over a period of seventy-five years of intimate +association with men of every stamp, from the Royal prince to the +Marquis de Sévigné, the latter wearying her to such an extent that she +designated him as "a man beyond definition; with a soul of pulp, a +body of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseed in snow," his own +mother, the renowned Madame de Sévigné, admitting that he was "a heart +fool." + +Ninon took this weak Chevalier in charge and endeavored to make a man +of him by exposing his frailties, and, entering into a long +correspondence, to instruct him in the pathology of the female heart, +with which he was disposed to tamper on the slightest provocation. Her +letters will show that she succeeded finally in bringing him to +reason, but that in doing so, she was compelled to betray her own sex +by exposing the secret motives of women in their relations with men. + +That she knew women as well as men, can not be disputed, for, +beginning with Madame de Maintenon and the Queen of Sweden, Christine, +down along the line to the sweet Countess she guards so successfully +against the evil designs of the Marquis de Sévigné, including Madame +de La Fayette, Madame de Sévigné, Madame de La Sablière, and the most +distinguished and prominent society women of France, they all were her +particular friends, as well as intimates, and held her in high esteem +as their confidante in all affairs of the heart. + +No other woman ever held so unique a position in the world of society +as Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and her letters to the Marquis de Sévigné +may, therefore, be considered as standards of the epistolary art upon +the subjects she treats; as containing the most profound insight into +the female heart where love is concerned, and as forming a study of +the greatest value in everything that pertains to the relations +between the sexes. + +There is an entire absence of mawkish sentimentality, of effort to +conceal the secret motives and desires of the heart beneath specious +language and words of double meaning. On the contrary, they tear away +from the heart the curtain of deceit, artifice and treachery, to +expose the nature of the machinery behind the scenes. + +These letters must be read in the light of the opinions of the wisest +philosophers of the seventeenth century upon her character. + +"Inasmuch as the first use she (Mademoiselle de l'Enclos) made of her +reason, was to become enfranchised from vulgar errors, it is +impossible to be further removed from the stupid mistake of those who, +under the name of "passion," elevate the sentiment of love to the +height of a virtue. Ninon understood love to be what it really is, a +taste founded upon the senses, a blind sentiment, which admits of no +merit in the object which gives it birth, and which promises no +recompense; a caprice, the duration of which does not depend upon our +volition, and which is subject to remorse and repentance." + + + + +LETTERS OF NINON de L'ENCLOS + +TO THE + +MARQUIS de SÉVIGNÉ + + + +I. + +A Hazardous Undertaking. + +What, I, Marquis, take charge of your education, be your guide in the +enterprise upon which you are about to enter? You exact too much of my +friendship for you. You ought to be aware of the fact, that when a +woman has lost the freshness of her first youth, and takes a special +interest in a young man, everybody says she desires to "make a +worldling of him." You know the malignity of this expression. I do not +care to expose myself to its application. All the service I am willing +to render you, is to become your confidante. You will tell me your +troubles, and I will tell you what is in my mind, likewise aid you to +know your own heart and that of women. + +It grieves me to say, that whatever pleasure I may expect to find in +this correspondence, I can not conceal the difficulties I am liable to +encounter. The human heart, which will be the subject of my letters, +presents so many contrasts, that whoever lays it bare must fall into +a flood of contradictions. You think you have something stable in your +grasp, but find you have seized a shadow. It is indeed a chameleon, +which, viewed from different aspects, presents a variety of opposite +colors, and even they are constantly shifting. You may expect to read +many strange things in what I shall say upon this subject. I will, +however, give you my ideas, though they may often seem strange; +however, that shall be for you to determine. I confess that I am not +free from grave scruples of conscience, foreseeing that I can scarcely +be sincere without slandering my own sex a little. But at least you +will know my views on the subject of love, and particularly everything +that relates to it, and I have sufficient courage to talk to you +frankly upon the subject. + +I am to dine to-night with the Marquis de la Rochefoucauld. Madame de +la Sablière and La Fontaine will also be guests. If it please you to +be one of us, La Fontaine will regale you with two new stories, which, +I am told, do not disparage his former ones. Come Marquis--But, again +a scruple. Have I nothing to fear in the undertaking we contemplate? +Love is so malicious and fickle! Still, when I examine my heart, I do +not feel any apprehension for myself, it being occupied elsewhere, and +the sentiments I possess toward you resemble love less than +friendship. If the worst should happen and I lose my head some day, we +shall know how to withdraw in the easiest possible manner. + +We are going to take a course of morals together. Yes, sir, MORALS! +But do not be alarmed at the mere word, for there will be between us +only the question of gallantry to discuss, and that, you know, sways +morals to so high a degree that it deserves to be the subject of a +special study. The very idea of such a project is to me infinitely +risible. However, if I talk reason to you too often, will you not grow +weary? This is my sole anxiety, for you well know that I am a pitiless +reasoner when I wish to be. With any other heart than that which you +misunderstand, I could be a philosopher such as the world never knew. + +Adieu, I await your good pleasure. + + + + +II + +Why Love is Dangerous + + +I assure you, Marquis, I shall keep my word, and on all occasions, I +shall speak the truth, even though it be to my own detriment. I have +more stability in my disposition than you imagine, and I fear +exceedingly that the result of our intercourse may sometimes lead you +to think that I carry this virtue into severity. But you must remember +that I have only the external appearance of a woman, and that in mind +and heart I am a man. Here is the method that I wish to follow with +you. As I ask only to acquire information for myself before +communicating to you my ideas, my intention is to propound them to the +excellent man with whom we supped yesterday. It is true that he has +none too good an opinion of poor humanity. He believes neither in +virtue nor in spiritual things. But this inflexibility, mitigated by +my indulgence for human frailties, will give you, I believe, the kind +and the quantity of philosophy which is required in all intercourse +with women. Let us come to the gist of your letter. + +Since your entrance into the world it has offered you nothing, you +say, of what you had imagined you would find there. Disgust and +weariness follow you everywhere. You seek solitude, and as soon as +you are enjoying it, it wearies you. In a word, you do not know to +what cause to attribute the restlessness which torments you. I am +going to save you the trouble, I am, for my burden is to speak my +thoughts on everything that may perplex you; and I do not know but you +will often ask me questions as embarrassing for me to answer as they +may have been for you to ask. + +The uneasiness which you experience is caused only by the void in your +heart. Your heart is without love, and it is trying to make you +comprehend its wants. You have really what one calls the "need of +loving." Yes, Marquis, nature, in forming us, gave us an allowance of +sentiments which must expend themselves upon some object. Your age is +the proper period for the agitations of love; as long as this +sentiment does not fill your heart, something will always be wanting; +the restlessness of which you complain will never cease. In a word, +love is the nourishment of the heart as food is of the body; to love +is to fulfill the desire of nature, to satisfy a need. But if +possible, manage it so that it will not become a passion. To protect +you from this misfortune, I could almost be tempted to disprove the +counsel given you, to prefer, to the company of women capable of +inspiring esteem rather than love, the intercourse of those who pride +themselves on being amusing rather than sedate and prim. At your age, +being unable to think of entering into a serious engagement, it is not +necessary to find a friend in a woman; one should seek to find only +an amiable mistress. + +The intercourse with women of lofty principles, or those whom the +ravages of time force into putting themselves forward only by virtue +of great qualities, is excellent for a man who, like themselves, is on +life's decline. For you, these women would be too good company, if I +dare so express myself. Riches are necessary to us only in proportion +to our wants; and what you would better do, I think, is to frequent +the society of those who combine, with agreeable figure, gentleness in +conversation, cheerfulness in disposition, a taste for the pleasures +of society, and strong enough not to be frightened by one affair of +the heart. + +In the eyes of a man of reason they appear too frivolous, you will +say: but do you think they should be judged with so much severity? Be +persuaded, Marquis, that if, unfortunately, they should acquire more +firmness of character, they and you would lose much by it. You require +in women stability of character! Well, do you not find it in a +friend?--Shall I tell you what is in my mind? It is not our virtues +you need; but our playfulness and our weakness. The love which you +could feel for a woman who would be estimable in every respect, would +become too dangerous for you. Until you can contemplate a contract of +marriage, you should seek only to amuse yourself with those who are +beautiful; a passing taste alone should attach you to one of them: be +careful not to plunge in too deep with her; there can nothing result +but a bad ending. If you did not reflect more profoundly than the +greater part of young people, I should talk to you in an entirely +different tone; but I perceive that you are ready to give to excess, a +contrary meaning to their ridiculous frivolity. It is only necessary, +then, to attach yourself to a woman who, like an agreeable child, +might amuse you with pleasant follies, light caprices, and all those +pretty faults which make the charm of a gallant intercourse. + +Do you wish me to tell you what makes love dangerous? It is the +sublime view that one sometimes takes of it. But the exact truth is, +it is only a blind instinct which one must know how to appreciate: an +appetite which you have for one object in preference to another, +without being able to give the reason for your taste. Considered as a +friendly intimacy when reason presides, it is not a passion, it is no +longer love, it is, in truth, a warm hearted esteem, but tranquil; +incapable of drawing you away from any fixed position. If, walking in +the footsteps of our ancient heroes of romance, you aim at great +sentiments, you will see that this pretended heroism makes of love +only a sad and sometimes fatal folly. It is a veritable fanaticism; +but if you disengage it from all that opinion makes it, it will soon +be your happiness and pleasure. Believe me, if it were reason or +enthusiasm which formed affairs of the heart, love would become +insipid, or a frenzy. The only means of avoiding these two extremes is +to follow the path I have indicated. You need only to be amused, and +you will find amusement only among the women I mention to you as +capable of it. Your heart wishes occupation, they are made to fill it. +Try my recipe and you will find it good--I made you a fair promise, +and it seems to me I am keeping my word with you exactly. Adieu, I +have just received a charming letter from M. de Saint-Evremond, and I +must answer it. I wish at the same time to propose to him the ideas +which I have communicated to you, and I shall be very much mistaken if +he does not approve of them. + +To-morrow I shall have the Abbé de Châteauneuf, and perhaps Molière. +We shall read again the Tartuffe, in which some changes should be +made. Take notice, Marquis, that those who do not conform to all I +have just told you, have a little of the qualities of that character. + + + + +III + +Why Love Grows Cold + + +In despite of everything I may say to you, you still stick to your +first sentiment. You wish a respectable person for a mistress, and one +who can at the same time be your friend. These sentiments would +undoubtedly merit commendation if in reality they could bring you the +happiness you expect them to; but experience teaches you that all +those great expectations are pure illusions. Are serious qualities the +only question in pastimes of the heart? I might be tempted to believe +that romances have impaired your mental powers. Poor Marquis! He has +allowed himself to become fascinated by the sublime talk common in +conversation. But, my dear child, what do you mean to do with these +chimeras of reason? I willingly tell you, Marquis: it is very fine +coin, but it is a pity that it can not enter into commercial +transactions. + +When you wish to begin housekeeping, look for a reliable woman, full +of virtue and lofty principles. All this is becoming to the dignity of +the marriage tie; I intended to say, to its gravity. But at present, +as you require nothing but a love affair, beware of being serious, and +believe what I tell you; I know your wants better than you yourself +know them. Men usually say that they seek essential qualities in those +they love. Blind fools that they are! How they would complain could +they find them! What would they gain by being deified? They need only +amusement. A mistress as reasonable as you require would be a wife for +whom you would have an infinite respect, I admit, but not a particle +of ardor. A woman estimable in all respects is too subduing, +humiliates you too much, for you to love her long. Forced to esteem +her, and even sometimes to admire her, you can not excuse yourself for +ceasing to love her. So many virtues are a reproach too discreet, too +tiresome a critic of our eccentricities, not to arouse your pride at +last, and when that is humbled, farewell to love. Make a thorough +analysis of your sentiments, examine well your conscience, and you +will see that I speak the truth. I have but a moment left to say +adieu. + + + + +IV + +The Spice of Love + + +Do you know, Marquis, that you will end by putting me in a temper? +Heavens, how very stupid you are sometimes! I see it in your letter; +you have not understood me at all. Take heed; I did not say that you +should take for a mistress a despicable object. That is not at all my +idea. But I said that in reality you needed only a love affair, and +that, to make it pleasant, you should not attach yourself exclusively +to substantial qualities. I repeat it; when in love, men need only to +be amused; and I believe on this subject I am an authority. Traces of +temper and caprice, a senseless quarrel, all this has more effect upon +women, and retains their affection more than all the reason +imaginable, more than steadiness of character. + +Someone whom you esteem for the justice and strength of his ideas, +said one day at my house, that caprice in women was too closely allied +to beauty to be an antidote. I opposed this opinion with so much +animation, that it could readily be seen that the contrary maxim was +my sentiment, and I am, in truth, well persuaded that caprice is not +close to beauty, except to animate its charms in order to make them +more attractive, to serve as a goad, and to flavor them. There is no +colder sentiment, and none which endures less than admiration. One +easily becomes accustomed to see the same features, however regular +they may be, and when a little malignity does not give them life or +action, their very regularity soon destroys the sentiment they excite. +A cloud of temper, even, can give to a beautiful countenance the +necessary variety, to prevent the weariness of seeing it always in the +same state. In a word, woe to the woman of too monotonous a +temperament; her monotony satiates and disgusts. She is always the +same statue, with her a man is always right. She is so good, so +gentle, that she takes away from people the privilege of quarreling +with her, and this is often such a great pleasure! Put in her place a +vivacious woman, capricious, decided, to a certain limit, however, and +things assume a different aspect. The lover will find in the same +person the pleasure of variety. Temper is the salt, the quality which +prevents it from becoming stale. Restlessness, jealousy, quarrels, +making friends again, spitefulness, all are the food of love. +Enchanting variety! which fills, which occupies a sensitive heart much +more deliciously than the regularity of behavior, and the tiresome +monotony which is called "good disposition." + +I know how you men must be governed. A caprice puts you in an +uncertainty, which you have as much trouble and grief in dispelling as +though it were a victory obtained over a new object. Roughness makes +you hold your breath. You do not stop disputing, but neither do you +cease to conquer and to be conquered. In vain does reason sigh. You +can not comprehend how such an imp manages to subjugate you so +tyrannically. Everything tells you that the idol of your heart is a +collection of caprices and follies, but she is a spoiled child, whom +you can not help but love. The efforts which reflection causes you to +make to loosen them, serve only to forge still tighter your chains; +for love is never so strong as when you believe it ready to break away +in the heat of a quarrel. It loves, it storms; with it, everything is +convulsive. Would you reduce it to rule? It languishes, it expires. In +a word, this is what I wanted to say; do not take for a mistress a +woman who has only reliable qualities; but one who is sometimes +dominated by temper, and silences reason; otherwise I shall say that +it is not a love affair you want, but to set up housekeeping. + + + + +V + +Love and Temper + + +Oh, I agree with you, Marquis, a woman who has only temper and +caprices is very thorny for an acquaintance and in the end only +repels. I agree again that these irregularities must make of love a +never ending quarrel, a continual storm. Therefore, it is not for a +person of this character that I advise you to form an attachment. You +always go beyond my ideas. I only depicted to you in my last letter an +amiable woman, one who becomes still more so by a shade of diversity, +and you speak only of an unpleasant woman, who has nothing but +ungracious things to say. How we have drifted away from the point! + +When I spoke of temper I only meant the kind which gives a stronger +relish, anxiety, and a little jealousy: that, in a word, which springs +from love alone, and not from natural brutality, that roughness which +one ordinarily calls "bad temper." When it is love which makes a woman +rough, when that alone is the cause of her liveliness, what sort can +the lover be who has so little delicacy as to complain of it? Do not +these errors prove the violence of passion? For myself, I have always +thought that he who knew how to keep himself within proper bounds, +was moderately amorous. Can one be so, in effect, without allowing +himself to be goaded by the fire of a devouring impetuosity, without +experiencing all the revolutions which it necessarily occasions? No, +undoubtedly. Well! who can see all these disturbances in a beloved +object without a secret pleasure? While complaining of its injustice +and its transports, one feels no less deliciously at heart that he is +loved, and with passion, and that these same aggravations are most +convincing proofs that it is voluntary. + +There, Marquis, is what constitutes the secret charm of the troubles +which lovers sometimes suffer, of the tears they shed. But if you are +going to believe that I wished to tell you that a woman of bad temper, +capricious, can make you happy, undeceive yourself. I said, and I +shall always persist in my idea, that diversity is necessary, +caprices, bickerings, in a gallant intercourse, to drive away +weariness, and to perpetuate the strength of it. But consider that +these spices do not produce that effect except when love itself is the +source. If temper is born of a natural brusqueness, or of a restless, +envious, unjust disposition, I am the first one to say that such a +woman will become hateful, she will be the cause of disheartening +quarrels. A connection of the heart becomes then a veritable torment, +from which it is desirable to free oneself as quickly as possible. + + + + +VI + +Certain Maxims Concerning Love + + +You think, then, Marquis, that you have brought up an invincible +argument, when you tell me that one is not the master of his own +heart, in disposing of it where he wishes, and that consequently you +are not at liberty to choose the object of your attachment? Morals of +the opera! Abandon this commonplace to women who expect, in saying so, +to justify their weaknesses. It is very necessary that they should +have something to which to cling: like the gentleman of whom our +friend Montaigne speaks who, when the gout attacked him, would have +been very angry if he had not been able to say: "Cursed ham!" They say +it is a sympathetic stroke. That is too strong for me. Is anyone +master of his heart? He is no longer permitted to reply when such good +reasons are given. They have even so well sanctioned these maxims that +they wish to attract everyone to their arms in order to try to +overcome them. But these same maxims find so much approbation only +because everyone is interested in having them received. No one +suspects that such excuses, far from justifying caprices, may be a +confession that one does not wish to correct them. + +For myself, I take the liberty of being of a different opinion from +the multitude. It is enough for me that it is not impossible to +conquer one's inclination to condemn all those who are unreasonable or +dishonorable. Dear me! Have we not seen women succeed in destroying in +their hearts a weakness which has taken them by surprise, as soon as +they have discovered that the object of their affections was unworthy +of them? How often have they stifled the most tender affection, and +sacrificed it to the conventionalities of an establishment? Rest, +time, absence, are remedies which passion, however ardent one may have +supposed it, can never resist; insensibly it weakens, and dies all at +once. I know that to withdraw honorably from such a liaison requires +all the strength of reason. I comprehend still more, that the +difficulties you imagine stand in the way of maintaining a victory, do +not leave you enough courage to undertake it; so that, although I may +say that there are no invincible inclinations in the speculation, I +will admit that there are few of them to be vanquished by practice; +and it happens so, only because one does not like to attempt without +success. However that may be, on the whole, I imagine that there being +here only a question of gallantry, it would be folly to put you to the +torture, in order to destroy the inclination which has seized upon you +for a woman more or less amiable; but also, because you are not +smitten with anyone, I persist in saying that I was right in +describing to you the character which I believed would be the most +capable of making you happy. + +It is without doubt to be desired, that delicate sentiments, real +merit, should have more power over our hearts, and that they might be +able to occupy them and find a permanent place there forever. But +experience proves that this is not so. I do not reason from what you +should be, but from what you really are. My intention is to give you a +knowledge of the heart such as it is, and not what it ought to be. I +am the first one to regret the depravity of your taste, however +indulgent I may be to your caprices. But not being able to reform the +vices of the heart, I would at least teach you to draw out of them +whatever good you can. Not being able to render you wise, I try to +make you happy. It is an old saying: to wish to destroy the passions +would be to undertake our annihilation. It is only necessary to +regulate them. They are in our hands like the poison in a pharmacy; +compounded by a skillful chemist they become beneficent remedies. + + + + +VII + +Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo From Men + + +Oh, who doubts, Marquis, that it may be only by essential qualities +that you can succeed in pleasing women? It is simply a question of +knowing what meaning you attach to this expression. Do you call +essential qualities, worth, firmness of character, precision of +judgment, extent of learning, prudence, discretion, how can I tell the +number of virtues which often embarrass you more than they make you +happy? Our minds are not in accord upon this matter. Reserve all the +qualities I have specified for the intercourse you are obliged to have +with men, they are quite proper under such circumstances. But when it +comes to gallantry, you will have to change all such virtues for an +equal number of charming traits; those that captivate, it is the only +coin that passes current in this country; it is the only merit, and +you must be on your guard against calling it spurious money. It may be +that true merit consists less in real perfection than in that which +the world requires. It is far more advantageous to possess the +qualities agreeable to those whom we desire to please, than to have +those we believe to be estimable. In a word, we must imitate the +morals and even the caprices of those with whom we associate, if we +expect to live in peace with them. + +What is the destiny of women? What is their rôle on earth? It is to +please. Now, a charming figure, personal graces, in a word, all the +amiable and brilliant qualities are the only means of succeeding in +that role. Women possess them to a superlative degree, and it is in +these qualities that they wish men to resemble them. It will be vain +for you to accuse them of frivolity, for they are playing the beauty +rôle, since they are destined to make you happy. Is it not, indeed, +due to the charm of our companionship, to the gentleness of our +manners, that you owe your most satisfying pleasures, your social +virtues, in fact, your whole happiness? Have some good faith in this +matter. Is it possible for the sciences of themselves, the love of +glory, valor, nay, even that friendship of which you boast so much, to +make you perfectly happy? The pleasure you draw from any of them, can +it be keen enough to make you feel happy? Certainly not. None of them +have the power to relieve you from a wearisome monotony which crushes +you and makes you an object of pity. + +It is women who have taken upon themselves to dissipate these mortal +languors by the vivacious gayety they inject into their society; by +the charms they know so well how to lavish where they will prove +effectual. A reckless joy, an agreeable delirium, a delicious +intoxication, are alone capable of awakening your attention, and +making you understand that you are really happy, for, Marquis, there +is a vast difference between merely enjoying happiness and relishing +the sensation of enjoying it. The possession of necessary things does +not make a man comfortable, it is the superfluous which makes him +rich, and which makes him feel that he is rich. + +It is not because you possess superior qualities that you are a +pleasant companion, it may be a real defect which is essential to you. +To be received with open arms, you must be agreeable, amusing, +necessary to the pleasure of others. I warn you that you can not +succeed in any other manner, particularly with women. Tell me, what +would you have me do with your learning, the geometry of your mind, +with the precision of your memory, etc.? If you have only such +advantages, Marquis, if you have no charming accomplishments to offset +your crudity--I can vouch for their opinion--far from pleasing women, +you will seem to them like a critic of whom they will be afraid, and +you will place them under so much constraint, that the enjoyment they +might have permitted themselves in your society will be banished. Why, +indeed, try to be amiable toward a man who is a source of anxiety to +you by his nonchalance, who does not unbosom himself? Women are not at +their ease except with those who take chances with them, and enter +into their spirit. In a word, too much circumspection gives others a +chill like that felt by a man who goes out of a warm room into a cold +wind. I intended to say that habitual reserve locks the doors of the +hearts of those who associate with us; they have no room to expand. + +You must also bear this in mind, Marquis, that in cases of gallantry, +your first advances must be made under the most favorable +circumstances. You must have read somewhere, that one pleases more by +agreeable faults than by essential qualities. Great virtues are like +pieces of gold of which one makes less use than of ordinary currency. + +This idea calls to my mind those people who, in place of our kind of +money, use shells as their medium of exchange. Well, do you imagine +that these people are not so rich as we with all the treasures of the +new world? We might, at first blush, take this sort of wealth as +actual poverty, but we should be quickly undeceived upon reflection, +for metals have no value except in opinion. Our gold would be false +money to those people. Now, the qualities you call essential are not +worth any more in cases of gallantry, where only pebbles are +sufficient. What matters the conventional mark provided there is +commerce? + +Now, this is my conclusion: If it be true, as you can not doubt, that +you ought not to expect happiness except from an interchange of +agreeable qualities in women, you may be sure that you will never +please them unless you possess advantages similar to theirs. I stick +to the point. You men are constantly boasting about your science, your +firmness, etc., but tell me, how weary would you not be, how disgusted +even, with life, if, always logical, you were condemned to be forever +learned and sordid, to live only in the company of philosophers? I +know you, you would soon become weary of admiration for your good +qualities, and the way you are made, you would rather do without +virtue than pleasure. Do not amuse yourself, then, by holding +yourself out as a man with great qualities in the sense you consider +them. True merit is that which is esteemed by those we aim to please. +Gallantry has its own laws, and Marquis, amiable men are the sages of +this world. + + + + +VIII + +The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause. + + +This time, Marquis, you have not far to go, your hour has come. The +diagnosis you give me of your condition tells me that you are in love. +The young widow you mention is certainly capable of rousing an +inspiration in your heart. The Chevalier de ---- has given me a very +favorable portrait of her. But scarcely do you begin to feel a few +scruples, than you turn into a crime the advice I have been giving +you. The disorder which love brings to the soul, and the other evils +which follow in its train, appear to you, so you say, more to be +feared than the pleasures it gives are to be desired. + +It is true that some very good people are of the opinion that the +sorrows of love are about equal to its pleasures, but without entering +upon a tiresome discussion to ascertain whether they are right or +wrong, if you would have my opinion, here it is: Love is a passion +which is neither good nor bad of itself; it is only those who are +affected by it that determine whether it is good or bad. All that I +shall say in its favor is, that it gives us an advantage with which +any of the discomforts of life can not enter into comparison. It drags +us out of the rut, it stirs us up, and it is love which satisfies one +of our most pressing wants. I think I have already told you that our +hearts are made for emotion; to excite it therefore, is to satisfy a +demand of nature. What would vigorous youth be without love? A long +illness: it would not be existence, it would be vegetating. Love is to +our hearts what winds are to the sea. They grow into tempests, true; +they are sometimes even the cause of shipwrecks. But the winds render +the sea navigable, their constant agitation of its surface is the +cause of its preservation, and if they are often dangerous, it is for +the pilot to know how to navigate in safety. + +But I have wandered from my text, and return to it. Though I shock +your sensitive delicacy by my frank speaking, I shall add, that +besides the need of having our emotions stirred, we have in connection +with them a physical machinery, which is the primitive cause and +necessity of love. Perhaps it is not too modest for a woman to use +such language to you, but you will understand that I would not talk to +every one so plainly. We are not engaged in what may be called "nice" +conversation, we are philosophizing. If my discussions seem to you to +be sometimes too analytical for a woman, remember what I told you in +my last letter. From the time I was first able to reason, I made up my +mind to investigate and ascertain which of the two sexes was the more +favored. I saw that men were not at all stinted in the distribution of +the roles to be played, and I therefore became a man. + +If I were you, I would not investigate whether it be a good or a bad +thing to fall in love. I would prefer to have you ask whether it is +good or bad to be thirsty; or, that it be forbidden to give one a +drink because there are men who become intoxicated. Inasmuch as you +are not at liberty to divest yourself of an appetite belonging to the +mechanical part of your nature, as could our ancient romancers, do not +ruin yourself by speculating and meditating on the greater or less +advantages in loving. Take love as I have advised you to take it, only +do not let it be to you a passion, only an amusement. + +I understand what you are going to say: you are going to overwhelm me +again with your great principles, and tell me that a man has not +sufficient control over his feelings to stop when he would. Pooh! I +regard those who talk in that fashion in the same light as the man, +who believes he is in honor bound to show great sorrow on the occasion +of a loss or accident, which his friends consider great, but which is +nothing to him. Such a man feels less than any one the need of +consolation, but he finds pleasure in showing his tears. He rejoices +to know that he possesses a heart capable of excessive emotion, and +this softens it still more. He feeds it with sorrow, he makes an idol +of it, and offers it incense so often that he acquires the habit. All +such admirers of great and noble sentiments, spoiled by romances or by +prudes, make it a point of honor to spiritualize their passion. By +force of delicate treatment, they become all the more infatuated with +it, as they deem it to be their own work, and they fear nothing so +much as the shame of returning to common sense and resuming their +manhood. + +Let us take good care, Marquis, not to make ourselves ridiculous in +this way. This fashion of straining our intelligence is nothing more, +in the age in which we are living, than playing the part of fools. In +former times people took it into their heads that love should be +something grave, they considered it a serious matter, and esteemed it +only in proportion to its dignity. Imagine exacting dignity from a +child! Away would go all its graces, and its youth would soon become +converted into old age. How I pity our good ancestors! What with them +was a mortal weariness, a melancholy frenzy, is with us a gay folly, a +delicious delirium. Fools that they were, they preferred the horrors +of deserts and rocks, to the pleasures of a garden strewn with +flowers. What prejudices the habit of reflection has brought upon us! + +The proof that great sentiments are nothing but chimeras of pride and +prejudice, is, that in our day, we no longer witness that taste for +ancient mystic gallantry, no more of those old fashioned gigantic +passions. Ridicule the most firmly established opinions, I will go +further, deride the feelings that are believed to be the most natural +and soon both will disappear, and men will stand amazed to see that +ideas for which they possessed a sort of idolatry, are in reality +nothing but trifles which pass away like the ever changing fashions. + +You will understand, then, Marquis, that it is not necessary to +acquire the habit of deifying the fancy you entertain for the +Countess. You will know, at last, that love to be worthy of the name, +and to make us happy, far from being treated as a serious affair, +should be fostered lightly, and above all with gayety. Nothing can +make you understand more clearly the truth of what I am telling you, +than the result of your adventure, for I believe the Countess to be +the last woman in the world to harbor a sorrowful passion. You, with +your high sentiments will give her the blues, mark what I tell you. + +My indisposition continues, and I would feel like telling you that I +never go out during the day, but would not that be giving you a +rendezvous? If, however, you should come and give me your opinion of +the "Bajazet" of Racine, you would be very kind. They say that the +Champmesle has surpassed herself. + +I have read over this letter, Marquis, and the lecture it contains +puts me out of humor with you. I recognize the fact that truth is a +contagious disease. Judge how much of it goes into love, since you +bestow it even upon those who aim to undeceive you. It is quite +strange, that in order to prove that love should be treated with +levity, it was necessary to assume a serious tone. + + + + +IX + +Love is a Natural Inclination + + +So you have taken what I said about love in my last letter as a crime? +I have blasphemed love; I have degraded it by calling it a +"necessity?" You have such noble thoughts, Marquis. What is passing in +your mind is proof of it. You can not realize, or imagine anything +less than the pure and delicate sentiments which fill your heart. To +see the Countess, hold sweet discourse with her, listen to the sound +of her gentle voice, dance attendance upon her, that is the height of +your desires, it is your supreme happiness. Far from you are those +vulgar sentiments which I unworthily substitute for your sublime +metaphysics; sentiments created for worldly souls occupied solely with +sensual pleasures. What a mistake I made! Could I imagine that the +Countess was a woman to be captured by motives so little worthy of +her? To raise the suspicion in her mind that you possessed such views, +would it not inevitably expose you to her hate, her scorn, etc.? + +Are not these the inconveniences which my morality leads you to +apprehend? My poor Marquis! you are yourself deceived by your +misunderstanding of the real cause of your sentiments. Give me all +your attention: I wish to draw you away from error, but in a manner +that will best accord with the importance of what I am about to say. I +mount the tribune; I feel the presence of the god who inspires me. I +rub my forehead with the air of a person who meditates on profound +truths, and who is going to utter great thoughts. I am going to reason +according to rule. + +Men, I know not by what caprice, have attached shame to the indulgence +of that reciprocal inclination which nature has bestowed upon both +sexes. They knew, however, that they could not entirely stifle its +voice, so what did they do to relieve themselves of their +embarrassment? They attempted to substitute the mere shell of an +affection wholly spiritual for the humiliating necessity of appearing +in good faith to satisfy a natural want. Insensibly, they have grown +accustomed to meddle with a thousand little sublime nothings connected +with it, and as if that were not enough, they have at last succeeded +in establishing the belief that all these frivolous accessories, the +work of a heated imagination, constitute the essence of the +inclination. There you are; love erected into a fine virtue; at least +they have given it the appearance of a virtue. But let us break +through this prestige and cite an example. + +At the beginning of their intercourse, lovers fancy themselves +inspired by the noblest and most delicate sentiments. They exhaust +their ingenuity, exaggerations, the enthusiasm of the most exquisite +metaphysics; they are intoxicated for a time with the idea that their +love is a superior article. But let us follow them in their liaison: +Nature quickly recovers her rights and re-assumes her sway; soon, +vanity, gorged with the display of an exaggerated purpose, leaves the +heart at liberty to feel and express its sentiments without restraint, +and dissatisfied with the pleasures of love, the day comes when these +people are very much surprised to find themselves, after having +traveled around a long circuit, at the very point where a peasant, +acting according to nature, would have begun. And thereby hangs a +tale. + +A certain Honesta, to give her a fictitious name, in whose presence I +was one day upholding the theory I have just been maintaining, became +furious. + +"What!" she exclaimed in a transport of indignation, "do you pretend, +Madame, that a virtuous person, one who possesses only honest +intentions, such as marriage, is actuated by such vulgar motives? You +would believe, in that case, that I, for instance, who 'par vertu,' +have been married three times, and who, to subdue my husbands, have +never wished to have a separate apartment, that I only acted thus to +procure what you call pleasure? Truly you would be very much mistaken. +Indeed, never have I refused to fulfill the duties of my state, but I +assure you that the greater part of the time, I yielded to them only +through complaisance, or as a distraction, always with regret at the +importunities of men. We love men and marry them because they have +certain qualities of mind and heart; and no woman, with the exception +of those, perhaps, whom I do not care to name, even attaches any +importance to other advantages----" + +I interrupted her, and more through malice than good taste, carried +the argument to its logical conclusion. I made her see that what she +said was a new proof of my contention: + +"The reasons you draw from the legitimate views of marriage," said I, +"prove that those who hold them, fend to the same end as two ordinary +lovers, perhaps, even in better faith, with this difference only, that +they wish an extra ceremony attached to it." + +This shot roused the indignation of my adversary. + +"You join impiety to libertinage," said she, moving away from me. + +I took the liberty of making some investigations, and would you +believe it, Marquis? This prude so refined, had such frequent +'distractions' with her three husbands, who were all young and +vigorous, that she buried them in a very short time. + +Come now, Marquis, retract your error; abandon your chimera, reserve +delicacy of sentiment for friendship; accept love for what it is. The +more dignity you give it, the more dangerous you make it; the more +sublime the idea you form of it, the less correct it is. Believe de la +Rochefoucauld, a man who knows the human heart well: "If you expect to +love a woman for love of herself," says he, "you will be much +mistaken." + + + + +X + +The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's Nature + + +The commentaries the Countess has been making you about her virtue, +and the refinement she expects in a lover, have certainly alarmed you. +You think she will always be as severe as she now appears to you. All +I have told you does not reassure you. You even esteem it a favor to +me that you stop with doubting my principles. If you dared you would +condemn them entirely. When you talk to me in that fashion, I feel at +liberty to say that I believe you. It is not your fault if you do not +see clearly into your own affair, but in proportion as you advance, +the cloud will disappear, and you will perceive with surprise the +truth of what I have been telling you. + +The more cold blooded you are, or at least, as long as passion has not +yet reached that degree of boldness its progress will ultimately lead +you to, the mere hope of the smallest favor is a crime; you tremble at +the most innocent caress. At first you ask for nothing, or for so +slight a favor, that a woman conscientiously believes herself obliged +to grant it, delighted with you on account of your modesty. To obtain +this slight favor, you protest never to ask another, and yet, even +while making your protestations, you are preparing to exact more. She +becomes accustomed to it and permits further trifling, which seems to +be of so little importance that she would endure it from any other +man, if she were on the slightest terms of intimacy with him. But, to +judge from the result, what appears to be of so little consequence on +one day when compared with the favor obtained the day before, becomes +very considerable when compared with that obtained on the first day. A +woman, re-assured by your discretion, does not perceive that her +frailties are being graduated upon a certain scale. She is so much +mistress of herself, and the little things which are at first exacted, +appear to her to be so much within her power of refusal, that she +expects to possess the same strength when something of a graver +character is proposed to her. It is just this way: she flatters +herself that her power of resistance will increase in the same +proportion with the importance of the favors she will be called upon +to grant. She relies so entirely upon her virtue, that she challenges +danger by courting it. She experiments with her power of resistance; +she wishes to see how far the granting of a few unimportant favors can +lead her. Here is where she is imprudent, for by her very rashness she +accustoms her imagination to contemplate suggestions which are the +final cause of her seduction. She travels a long way on the road +without perceiving that she has moved a single step. If upon looking +back along the route, she is surprised at having yielded so much, her +lover will be no less surprised at having obtained so much. + +But I go still further. I am persuaded that love is not always +necessary to bring about the downfall of a woman. I knew a woman, who, +although amiable in her manner with everybody, had never been +suspected of any affair of the heart. Fifteen years of married life +had not diminished her tenderness for her husband, and their happy +union could be cited as an example to imitate. + +One day at her country place, her friends amused themselves so late +that they were constrained to remain at her house all night. In the +morning, her servants happening to be occupied with her guests, she +was alone in her apartment engaged in making her toilet. A man whom +she knew quite well, but who was without social position, dropped in +for a short visit and to pass the compliments of the day. Some +perplexity in her toilette, induced him to offer his services. The +neglige dress she wore, naturally gave him an opportunity to +compliment her upon her undiminished charms. Of course she protested, +but laughingly, claiming they were unmerited. However, one thing +followed another, they became a trifle sentimental, a few +familiarities which they did not at first deem of any consequence, +developed into something more decided, until, finally, unable to +resist, they were both overcome, the woman being culpable, for she +regarded his advances in the nature of a joke and let them run on. +What was their embarrassment after such a slip? They have never since +been able to understand how they could have ventured so far without +having had the slightest intention of so doing. + +I am tempted to exclaim here: Oh, you mortals who place too much +reliance upon your virtue, tremble at this example! Whatever may be +your strength, there are, unfortunately, moments when the most +virtuous is the most feeble. The reason for this strange phenomenon +is, that nature is always on the watch; always aiming to attain her +ends. The desire for love is, in a woman, a large part of her nature. +Her virtue is nothing but a piece of patchwork. + +The homilies of your estimable Countess may be actually sincere, +although in such cases, a woman always exaggerates, but she deludes +herself if she expects to maintain to the end, sentiments so severe +and so delicate. Fix this fact well in your mind, Marquis, that these +female metaphysicians are not different in their nature from other +women. Their exterior is more imposing, their morals more austere, but +inquire into their acts, and you will discover that their heart +affairs always finish the same as those of women less refined. They +are a species of the "overnice," forming a class of their own, as I +told Queen Christine of Sweden, one day: "They are the Jansenists of +love." (Puritans.) + +You should be on your guard, Marquis, against everything women have to +say on the chapter of gallantry. All the fine systems of which they +make such a pompous display, are nothing but vain illusions, which +they utilize to astonish those who are easily deceived. In the eyes of +a clear sighted man, all this rubbish of stilted phrases is but a +parade at which he mocks, and which does not prevent him from +penetrating their real sentiments. The evil they speak of love, the +resistance they oppose to it, the little taste they pretend for its +pleasures, the measures they take against it, the fear they have of +it, all that springs from love itself. Their very manner renders it +homage, indicates that they harbor the thought of it. Love assumes a +thousand different forms in their minds. Like pride, it lives and +flourishes upon its own defeat; it is never overthrown that it does +not spring up again with renewed force. + +What a letter, good heavens! To justify its length would be to +lengthen it still more. + + + + +XI + +The Distinction Between Love and Friendship + + +I was delighted with your letter, Marquis. Do you know why? Because it +gives me speaking proof of the truth of what I have been preaching to +you these latter days. Ah! for once you have forgotten all your +metaphysics. You picture to me the charms of the Countess with a +complacency which demonstrates that your sentiments are not altogether +so high flown as you would have me believe, and as you think down in +your heart. Tell me frankly: if your love were not the work of the +senses, would you take so much pleasure in considering that form, +those eyes which enchant you, that mouth which you describe to me in +such glowing colors? If the qualities of heart and mind alone seduce +you, a woman of fifty is worth still more in that respect than the +Countess. You see such a one every day, it is her mother; why not +become enamored of her instead? Why neglect a hundred women of her +age, of her plainness, and of her merit, who make advances to you, and +who would enact the same role with you that you play with the +Countess? Why do you desire with so much passion to be distinguished +by her from other men? Why are you uneasy when she shows them the +least courtesy? Does her esteem for them diminish that which she +pretends for you? Are rivalries and jealousies recognized in +metaphysics? I believe not I have friends and I do not observe such +things in them; I feel none in my own heart when they love other +women. + +Friendship is a sentiment which has nothing to do with the senses; the +soul alone receives the impression of it, and the soul loses nothing +of its value by giving itself up to several at the same time. Compare +friendship with love, and you will perceive the difference between a +desire which governs a friend, and that which offers itself to a +lover. You will confess, that at heart, I am not so unreasonable as +you at first thought, and that it might be very well if it should +happen that in love, you might have a soul as worldly as that of a +good many people, whom it pleases you to accuse of very little +refinement. + +I do not wish, however, to bring men alone to trial. I am frank, and I +am quite sure that if women would be honest, they would soon confess +that they are not a bit more refined than men. Indeed, if they saw in +love only the pleasures of the soul, if they hoped to please only by +their mental accomplishments and their good character, honestly, now, +would they apply themselves with such particular care to please by the +charms of their person? What is a beautiful skin to the soul; an +elegant figure; a well shaped arm? What contradictions between their +real sentiments and those they exhibit on parade! Look at them, and +you will be convinced that they have no intention of making themselves +valued except by their sensual attractions, and that they count +everything else as nothing. Listen to them: you will be tempted to +believe that it is not worldly things which they consider the least. I +think I deserve credit for trying to dispel your error in this +respect, and ought I not to expect everything from the care they will +take to undeceive you themselves? Perhaps they will succeed only too +easily in expressing sentiments entirely contrary to those you have +heard to-day from me. + +I am due at Mademoiselle de Raymond's this evening, to hear the two +Camus and Ytier who are going to sing. Mesdames de la Sablière, de +Salins, and de Monsoreau will also be there. Would you miss such a +fine company? + + + + +XII + +A Man in Love is an Amusing Spectacle + + +You take things too much to heart, Marquis. Already two nights that +you have not slept. Oh! it is true love, there is no mistaking that. +You have made your eyes speak, you, yourself, have spoken quite +plainly, and not the slightest notice has been taken of your +condition. Such behavior calls for revenge. Is it possible that after +eight whole days of devoted attention she has not given you the least +hope? Such a thing can not be easily imagined. Such a long resistance +begins to pass beyond probability. The Countess is a heroine of the +last century. But if you are beginning to lose patience, you can +imagine the length of time you would have had to suffer, if you had +continued to proclaim grand and noble sentiments. You have already +accomplished more in eight days than the late Celadon could in eight +months. However, to speak seriously, are your complaints just? You +call the Countess ungrateful, insensible, disdainful, etc. But by what +right do you talk thus? Will you never believe what I have told you a +hundred times? Love is a veritable caprice, involuntary, even in one +who experiences its pangs. Why should, you say that the beloved object +is bound to recompense a blind sentiment acquired without her +connivance? + +You are very queer, you men. You consider yourselves offended because +a woman does not respond with eagerness to the languishing looks you +deign to cast upon her. Your revolted pride immediately accuses her of +injustice, as if it were her fault that your head is turned; as if she +were obliged, at a certain stage, to be seized with the same disease +as you. Tell me this: is the Countess responsible if she is not +afflicted with the same delirium as soon as you begin to rave? Cease, +then, to accuse her and to complain, and to try to communicate your +malady to her; I know you, you are seductive enough. Perhaps she will +feel, too soon for her peace of mind, sentiments commensurate with +your desires. I believe she has in her everything to subjugate you, +and to inspire you with the taste I hope will be for your happiness, +but so far, I do not think she is susceptible of a very serious +attachment. + +Vivacious, inconsistent, positive, decided, she can not fail to give +you plenty of exercise. An attentive and caressing woman would weary +you; you must be handled in a military fashion, if you are to be +amused and retained. As soon as the mistress assumes the rôle of +lover, love begins to weaken; it does more, it rises like a tyrant, +and ends in disdain which leads directly to disgust and inconstancy. +Have you found, perchance, everything you required in the little +mistress who is the cause of your dolorous martyrdom? Poor Marquis! +What storms will blow over you. What quarrels I foresee! How many +vexations, how many threats to leave her! But do not forget this: So +much emotion will become your punishment, if you treat love after the +manner of a hero of romance, and you will meet a fate entirely the +contrary if you treat it like a reasonable man. + +But ought I to continue to write you? The moments you employ to read +my letters will be so many stolen from love. Great Heavens! how I +should like to be a witness of your situations! Indeed, for a +sober-minded person, is there a spectacle more amusing than the +contortions of a man in love? + + + + +XIII + +Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love. + + +You are not satisfied, then, Marquis, with what I so cavalierly said +about your condition? You wish me by all means to consider your +adventure as a serious thing, but I shall take good care not to do so. +Do you not see that my way of treating you is consistent with my +principles? I speak lightly of a thing I believe to be frivolous, or +simply amusing. When it comes to an affair on which depends a lasting +happiness, you will see me take on an appropriate tone. I do not want +to pity you, because it depends upon yourself whether you are to be +pitied or not. By a trick of your imagination, what now appears to be +a pain to you may become a pleasure. To succeed, make use of my recipe +and you will find it good. But to refer to the second paragraph of +your letter: + +You say you are all the more surprised at the coldness of the Countess +as you did not think it in earnest. According to what you say, your +conjectures are based on the indiscretions of her friends. The good +she spoke about you to them, was the main cause of your taking a fancy +to her. I know men by this trait. The smallest word that escapes a +woman's lips leads them into the belief that she has designs upon +them. Everything has some reference to their merits; their vanity +seizes upon everything, and they turn everything into profit. To +examine them closely, nearly all of them love through gratitude, and +on this point, women are not any more reasonable. So that gallantry is +an intercourse in which we want the others to go along with us, always +want to be their debtors. And you know pride is much more active in +paying back than in giving. If two lovers would mutually explain, +without reservation, the beginning and progress of their passion, what +confidences would they not exchange? + +Elise, to whom Valère uttered a few general compliments, responded, +perhaps without intending to, in a more affectionate manner than is +usual in the case of such insipidities. It was enough. Valère is +carried away with the idea that from a gallant he must become a lover. +The fire is insensibly kindled on both sides; finally, it bursts +forth, and there you are, a budding passion. If you should charge +Elise with having made the first advances, nothing would appear more +unjust to her, and yet nothing could be more true. I conclude from +this that to take love for what it really is, it is less the work of +what is called invincible sympathy, than that of our vanity. Notice +the birth of all love affairs. They begin by the mutual praises we +bestow upon each other. It has been said that it is folly which +conducts love; I should say that it is flattery, and that it can not +be introduced into the heart of a belle until after paying tribute to +her vanity. Add to all this, the general desire and inclination we +have to be loved, and we are bravely deceived. Like those enthusiasts +who, by force of imagination, believe they can really see the images +they conjure up in their minds, we fancy that we can see in others the +sentiments we desire to find there. + +Be careful, then, Marquis, not to let yourself be blinded by a false +notion. The Countess may have spoken well of you with the sole object +of doing you justice, without carrying her intention any farther. And +be sure you are wrong when you suspect her of insincerity in your +regard. After all, why should you not prefer to have her dissemble her +sentiments toward you, if you are the source of their inspiration? Are +not women in the right to hide carefully their sentiments from you, +and does not the bad use you make of the certainty of their love +justify them in so doing? + + + + +XIV + +Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in Love + + +No, Marquis, the curiosity of Madame de Sévigné has not offended me. +On the contrary, I am very glad that she wished to see the letters you +receive from me. Without doubt, she thought that if it were a question +of gallantry, it could only be to my profit; she now knows the +contrary. She will also know that I am not so frivolous as she +imagined, and I believe her just enough to form hereafter another idea +of Ninon than the one she has heretofore had of her, for I am not +ignorant of the fact that she does not speak of me much to my +advantage. But her injustice will never influence my friendship for +you. I am philosophic enough to console myself for not securing the +commendation of people who judge me without knowing me. Whatever may +happen, I shall continue to talk to you with my ordinary frankness, +and I am sure that Madame de Sévigné, in spite of her refined mind, +will, at heart, be more of my opinion than she cares to show. Now, I +come to what relates to you. + +Well, Marquis, after infinite care and trouble, you think you have at +last softened that stony heart? I am glad of it; but I laugh at your +interpretation of the Countess' sentiments. You share with all men a +common error which it is necessary to remove, however flattering it +may be to you to foster it. You believe, every one of you, that it is +your worth alone that kindles passion in the heart of women, and that +qualities of heart and mind are the causes of the love they feel +toward you. What a mistake! You only think so, it is true, because +your pride finds satisfaction in the thought. But, if you can do so +without prejudice, inquire into the motives that actuate you, and you +will soon perceive that you are laboring under a delusion, and that we +deceive you; that, everything well considered, you are the dupe of +your vanity and of ours; that the worth of the person loved is only an +excuse which gives an occasion for love, and is not the real cause. +Finally, that all this sublime by-play, which is paraded on both +sides, is a mere preliminary which enters into the desire to satisfy +the need I first indicated to you as the prime exciting cause of this +passion. I tell you this is a hard and humiliating truth, but it is +none the less certain. We women enter the world with this necessity of +loving undefined, and if we take one man in preference to another, let +us say so honestly, we yield less to the knowledge of merit than to a +mechanical instinct which is nearly always blind. + +For proof of this I need only refer to the foolish passions with which +we sometimes become intoxicated for strangers, or at least for men +with whom we are not sufficiently acquainted, to relieve our selection +of them from the odium of imprudence from the beginning; in which case +if there is a mutual response, well, it is pure chance. We are always +forming attachments without sufficient circumspection, hence I am not +wrong in comparing love to an appetite which one sometimes feels for +one kind of food rather than for another, without being able to give +the reason. I am very cruel to thus dissipate the phantoms of your +self love, but I am telling you the truth. You are flattered by the +love of a woman, because you believe it implies the worthiness of the +object loved. You do her too much honor: let us say rather, that you +have too good an opinion of yourself. Understand that it is not for +yourself that we love you, to speak with sincerity, it is our own +happiness we seek. Caprice, interest, vanity, disposition, the +uneasiness that affects our hearts when they are unoccupied, these are +the sources of the great sentiment we wish to deify! It is not great +qualities that affect us; if they enter for anything into the reasons +which determine us in your favor, it is not the heart which receives +the impression, it is vanity; and the greater part of the things in +you which please us, very often makes you ridiculous or contemptible. + +But, what will you have? We need an admirer who can entertain us with +ideas of our perfections; we need an obliging person who will submit +to our caprices; we need a man! Chance presents us with one rather +than another; we accept him, but we do not choose him. In a word, you +believe yourselves to be the objects of our disinterested affection. I +repeat: You think women love you for yourselves. Poor dupes! You are +only the instruments of their pleasures, the sport of their caprices. +I must, however, do women justice; it is not that you are what I have +just enumerated with their consent, for the sentiments which I develop +here are not well defined in their minds, on the contrary, with the +best faith in the world, women imagine themselves influenced and +actuated only by the grand ideas which your vanity and theirs has +nourished. It would be a crying injustice to accuse them of deceit in +this respect; but, without being aware of it, they deceive themselves, +and you are equally deceived. + +You see that I am revealing the secrets of the good goddess. Judge of +my friendship, since, at the expense of my own sex, I labor to +enlighten you. The better you know women, the fewer follies they will +lead you to commit. + + + + +XV + +The Hidden Motives of Love + + +Really, Marquis, I do not understand how you can meekly submit to the +serious language I sometimes write you. It seems as if I had no other +aim in my letters than to sweep away your agreeable illusions and +substitute mortifying truths. I must, however, get rid of my mania for +saying deeply considered things. I know better than any one else that +pleasant lies are more agreeable than the most reasonable +conversation, but my disposition breaks through everything in spite of +me. I feel a fit of philosophy upon me again to-day, and I must ask +you to prepare to endure the broadside of morality I am making ready +to give you. Hereafter, I promise you more gayety. So now to answer +your letter. + +No, I will not take back anything. You may make war on me as much as +it please you, because of the bad opinion of my sex I expressed in my +last letter. Is it my fault if I am furnished with disagreeable truths +to utter? Besides, do you not know, Marquis, that the being on earth +who thinks the most evil of women, is a woman? + +I wish, however, very seriously, to justify the ideas, to my manner of +expressing which you have taken an exception. I am neither envious nor +unjust. Because I happened to mention my own sex rather than yours, +you must not imagine that it is my intention to underrate women. I +hoped to make you understand that, without being more culpable than +men, they are more dangerous because they are accustomed more +successfully to hide their sentiments. In effect, you will confess the +object of your love sooner than they will acknowledge theirs. However, +when they assure you that their affection for you has no other source +than a knowledge of your merit and of your good qualities, I am +persuaded that they are sincere. I do not even doubt that when they +realize that their style of thought is becoming less refined, they do +everything in their power to hide the fact from themselves. But the +motives, about which I have been telling you, are in the bottom of +their hearts just the same. They are none the less the true causes of +the liking they have for you, and whatever efforts they may make to +persuade themselves that the causes are wholly spiritual, their desire +changes nothing in the nature of things. They hide this deformity with +as much care as they would conceal teeth that might disfigure an +otherwise perfect face. In such case, even when alone they would be +afraid to open their mouth, and so, by force of habit in hiding this +defect from others as well as from themselves, they succeed in +forgetting all about it or in considering that it is not much of a +defect. + +I agree with you that you would lose too much if men and women were to +show themselves in their true colors. The world has agreed to play a +comedy, and to show real, natural sentiments would not be acting, it +would be substituting the real character for the one it has been +agreed to feign. Let us then enjoy the enchantment without seeking to +know the cause of the charm which amuses and seduces us. To anatomize +love would be to enter upon its cure. Psyche lost it for having been +too curious, and I am tempted to believe that this fable is a lesson +for those who wish to analyze pleasure. + +I wish to make some corrections in what I have said to you: If I told +you that men are wrong in priding themselves on their choice of a +woman, and their sentiments for her; if I said that the motives which +actuate them are nothing less than glorious for the men, I desire to +add, that they are equally deceived if they imagine that the +sentiments which they show with so much pompous display are always +created by force of female charms, or by an abiding impression of +their merits. How often does it happen that those men who make +advances with such a respectful air, who display such delicate and +refined sentiments, so flattering to vanity, who, in a word, seem to +breathe only through them, only for them, and have no other desire +than their happiness; how often, I repeat, are those men, who adorn +themselves with such beautiful sentiments, influenced by reasons +entirely the contrary? Study, penetrate these good souls, and you will +see in the heart of this one, instead of a love so disinterested, only +desire; in that one, it will be only a scheme to share your fortune, +the glory of having obtained a woman of your rank; in a third you +will discover motives still more humiliating to you; he will use you +to rouse the jealousy of some woman he really loves, and he will +cultivate your friendship merely to distinguish himself in her eyes by +rejecting you. I can not tell you how many motives, there are so many. +The human heart is an insolvable enigma. It is a whimsical combination +of all the known contrarieties. We think we know its workings; we see +their effects; we ignore the cause. If it expresses its sentiments +sincerely, even that sincerity is not reassuring. Perhaps its +movements spring from causes entirely contrary to those we imagine we +feel to be the real ones. But, after all, people have adopted the best +plan, that is, to explain everything to their advantage, and to +compensate themselves in imagination for their real miseries, and +accustom themselves, as I think I have already said, to deifying all +their sentiments. Inasmuch as everybody finds in that the summit of +his vanity, nobody has ever thought of reforming the custom, or of +examining it to see whether it is a mistake. + +Adieu; if you desire to come this evening you will find me with those +whose gayety will compensate you for this serious discourse. + + + + +XVI + +How to Be Victorious in Love + + +Is what you write me possible, Marquis, what, the Countess continues +obdurate? The flippant manner in which she receives your attentions +reveals an indifference which grieves you? I think I have guessed the +secret of the riddle. I know you. You are gay, playful, conceited +even, with women as long as they do not impress you. But with those +who have made an impression upon your heart, I have noticed that you +are timid. This quality might affect a bourgeoise, but you must attack +the heart of a woman of the world with other weapons. The Countess +knows the ways of the world. Believe me, and leave to the Celadons, +such things as sublime talk, beautiful sentiments; let them spin out +perfection. I tell you on behalf of women: there is not one of us who +does not prefer a little rough handling to too much consideration. Men +lose through blundering more hearts than virtue saves. + +The more timidity a lover shows with us the more it concerns our pride +to goad him on; the more respect he has for our resistance, the more +respect we demand of him. We would willingly say to you men: "Ah, in +pity's name do not suppose us to be so very virtuous; you are forcing +us to have too much of it. Do not put so high a price upon your +conquest; do not treat our defeat as if it were something difficult. +Accustom our imagination by degrees to seeing you doubt our +indifference." + +When we see a lover, although he may be persuaded of our gratitude, +treat us with the consideration demanded by our vanity, we shall +conclude without being aware of it, that he will always be the same, +although sure of our inclination for him. From that moment, what +confidence will he not inspire? What flattering progress may he not +make? But if he notifies us to be always on our guard, then it is not +our hearts we shall defend; it will not be a battle to preserve our +virtue, but our pride; and that is the worst enemy to be conquered in +women. What more is there to tell you? We are continually struggling +to hide the fact that we have permitted ourselves to be loved. Put a +woman in a position to say that she has yielded only to a species of +violence, or to surprise; persuade her that you do not undervalue her, +and I will answer for her heart. + +You must manage the Countess as her character requires; she is lively, +and playful, and by trifling follies you must lead her to love. Do not +even let her see that she distinguishes you from other men, and be as +playful as she is light hearted. Fix yourself in her heart without +giving her any warning of your intention. She will love you without +knowing it, and some day she will be very much astonished at having +made so much headway without really suspecting it. + + + + +XVII + +Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation + + +Perhaps, Marquis, you will think me still more cruel than the +Countess. She is the cause of your anxieties, it is true, but I am the +cause of something worse; I feel a great desire to laugh at them. Oh, +I enter into your troubles seriously enough, I can not do more, and +your embarrassment appears great to me. Really, why risk a declaration +of love to a woman who takes a wicked pleasure in avoiding it on every +occasion? Now, she appears affected, and then again, she is the most +unmindful woman in the world in spite of all you do to please her. She +listens willingly and replies gaily to the gallant speeches and bold +conversation of a certain Chevalier, a professional coxcomb, but to +you she speaks seriously and with a preoccupied air. If you take on a +tender and affectionate tone, she replies flippantly, or perhaps +changes the subject. All this intimidates you, troubles you, and +drives you to despair. Poor Marquis!--and I answer you, that all this +is love, true and beautiful. The absence of mind which she affects +with you, the nonchalance she puts on for a mask, ought to make you +feel at heart that she is far from being indifferent. But your lack of +boldness, the consequences which she feels must follow such a passion +as yours, the interest which she already takes in your condition, all +this intimidates the countess herself, and it is you who raise +obstacles in her path. A little more boldness on your part would put +you both at your ease. Do you remember what M. de la Rochefoucauld +told you lately: "A reasonable man in love may act like a madman, but +he should not and can not act like an idiot." + +Besides, when you compare your respect and esteem with the free and +almost indecent manner of the Chevalier; when you draw from it the +conclusion that she should prefer you to him, you do not know how +incorrectly you argue. The Chevalier is nothing but a gallant, and +what he says is not worth considering, or at least appears so. +Frivolity alone, the habit of romancing to all the pretty women he +finds in his way, makes him talk. Love counts for nothing, or at least +for very little, in all his liaisons. Like the butterfly, he hovers +only a moment over each flower. An amusing episode is his only object. +So much frivolity is not capable of alarming a woman. She is delighted +at the trifling danger she incurs in listening to such a man. + +The Countess knows very well how to appreciate the discourse of the +Chevalier; and to say everything in a word, she knows him to be a man +whose heart is worn out. Women, who, to hear them talk, go in more for +metaphysics, know admirably how to tell the difference between a lover +of his class and a man like you. But you will always be more +formidable and more to be dreaded by your manner of making yourself +felt. + +You boast to me of your respectful esteem, but I reply that it is +nothing of the kind, and the Countess knows it well. Nothing ends with +so little respect as a passion like yours. Quite different from the +Chevalier, you require recognition, preference, acknowledgment, even +sacrifices. The Countess sees all these pretensions at a glance, or at +least, if in the cloud which still envelops them, she does not +distinguish them clearly, nature gives her a presentiment of what the +cost will be if she allows you the least opportunity to instruct her +in a passion which she doubtless already shares. Women rarely inquire +into the reasons which impel them to give themselves up or to resist; +they do not even amuse themselves by trying to understand or explain +them, but they have feelings, and sentiment with them is correct, it +takes the place of intelligence and reflection. It is a sort of +instinct which warns them in case of danger, and which leads them +aright perhaps as surely as does the most enlightened reason. Your +beautiful Adelaide wishes to enjoy an incognito as long as she can. +This plan is very congenial to her real interests, and yet I am fully +persuaded that it is not the work of reflection. She sees it only from +the point of view of a passion, outwardly constrained, making stronger +impressions and still greater progress inwardly. Let it have an +opportunity to take deep root, and give to this fire she tries to +hide, time to consume the heart in which you wish to confine it. + +You must also admit, Marquis, that you deceive yourself in two ways +in your calculation. You thought you respected the Countess more than +the Chevalier does, on the contrary you see that the gallant speeches +of the Chevalier are without effect, while you begrudge them to the +heart of your beauty. On the other hand, you figure that her +preoccupied air, indifferent and inattentive manner are proofs or +forewarnings of your unhappiness. Undeceive yourself. There is no more +certain proof of a passion than the efforts made to hide it. In a +word, when the Countess treats you kindly, whatever proofs you may +give her of your affection, when she sees you without alarm on the +point of confessing your love, I tell you that her heart is caught; +she loves you, on my word. + +By the way, I forgot to reply to that part of your letter concerning +myself. Yes, Marquis, I constantly follow the method which I +prescribed at the commencement of our correspondence. There are few +matters in my letters that I have not used as subjects of conversation +in my social reunions. I rarely suggest ideas of any importance to +you, without having taken the opinions of my friends on their verity. +Sometimes it is Monsieur de la Bruyère, sometimes Monsieur de +Saint-Evremond whom I consult; another time it will be Monsieur l'Abbé +de Châteauneuf. You must admire my good faith, Marquis, for I might +claim the credit of the good I write you, but I frankly avow that you +owe it only to the people whom I receive at my house. + +Apropos of men of distinguished merit, M. de la Rochefoucauld has +just sent me word that he would like to call on me. I fixed to-morrow, +and you might do well to be present, but do not forget how much he +loves you. Adieu. + + + + +XVIII + +When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of It + + +I have been engaged in some new reflections on the condition you are +in, Marquis, and on the embarrassment in which you continue. After +all, why do you deem it necessary to make a formal declaration of +love? Can it be because you have read about such things in our old +romances, in which the proceedings in courtship were as solemn as +those of the tribunals? That would be too technical. Believe me, let +it alone; as I told you in my last letter, the fire lighted, will +acquire greater force every day, and you will see, that without having +said you love, you will be farther advanced than if you were +frightened by avowals which our fathers insisted should worry the +women. Avowals absolutely useless in themselves, and which always +incumber a passion with several nebulous days. They retard its +progress. Bear this well in mind, Marquis: A woman is much better +persuaded that she is loved by what she guesses than by what she is +told. + +Act as if you had made the declaration which is costing you so much +anxiety; or imitate the Chevalier; take things easy. The way the +Countess conducts herself with him in your presence seems to be a law +in your estimation. With your circumspection and pretended respect, +you present the appearance of a man who meditates an important design, +of a man, in a word, who contemplates a wrong step. Your exterior is +disquieting to a woman who knows the consequences of a passion such as +yours. Remember that as long as you let it appear that you are making +preparations for an attack, you will find her on the defensive. Have +you ever heard of a skillful general, who intends to surprise a +citadel, announce his design to the enemy upon whom the storm is to +descend? In love as in war, does any one ever ask the victor whether +he owes his success to force or skill? He has conquered, he receives +the crown, his desires are gratified, he is happy. Follow his example +and you will meet the same fate. Hide your progress; do not disclose +the extent of your designs until it is no longer possible to oppose +your success, until the combat is over, and the victory gained before +you have declared war. In a word, imitate those warlike people whose +designs are not known except by the ravaged country through which they +have passed. + + + + +XIX + +Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy + + +At last, Marquis, you are listened to dispassionately when you protest +your love, and swear by everything lovers hold sacred that you will +always love. Will you believe my predictions another time? However, +you would be better treated if you were more reasonable, so you are +told, and limit your sentiments to simple friendship. The name of +lover assumed by you is revolting to the Countess. You should never +quarrel over quality when it is the same under any name, and follow +the advice Madame de la Sablière gives you in the following madrigal: + + Bélise ne veut point d'amant, + Mais voudrait un ami fidèle, +Qui pour elle eût des soins et de l'empressement, + Et qui même la trouvât belle. + Amants, qui soupirez pour elle, + Sur ma parole tenez bon, +Bélise de l'amour ne hait que le nom. + + (Bélise for a lover sighed not, + But she wanted a faithful friend, +Who would cuddle her up and care for her lot, + And even her beauty defend. + Oh, you lovers, whose sighs I commend, +'Pon my word, hold fast to such game, +What of love Bélise hates is only the name.) + +But you are grieved by the injurious doubts cast upon your sincerity +and constancy. You are disbelieved because all men are false and +perjured, and because they are inconstant, love is withheld. How +fortunate you are! How little the Countess knows her own heart, if she +expects to persuade you of her indifference in that fashion! Do you +wish me to place a true value on the talk she is giving you? She is +very much affected by the passion you exhibit for her, but the +warnings and sorrows of her friends have convinced her that the +protestations of men are generally false. I do not conceive any +injustice in this, for I, who do not flatter men willingly, am +persuaded that they are usually sincere on such occasions. They become +amorous of a woman, that is they experience the desire of possession. +The enchanting image of that possession bewitches them; they calculate +that the delights connected with it will never end; they do not +imagine that the fire which consumes them can ever weaken or die out; +such a thing seems impossible to them. Hence they swear with the best +faith in the world to love us always; and to cast a doubt upon their +sincerity would be inflicting a mortal injury. + +But the poor fellows make more promises than they can keep. They do +not perceive that their heart has not enough energy always to hold the +same object. They cease to love without knowing why. They are good +enough to be scrupulous over their growing coldness. Long after love +has fled they continue to insist that they still love. They exert +themselves to no purpose, and after having tormented themselves as +long as they can bear it, they surrender to dissatisfaction, and +become inconstant with as much good faith as they possessed when they +protested that they would be forever constant. Nothing is simpler and +easier to explain. The fermentation of a budding love, excited in +their heart the charm that seduced them; by and by, the enchantment is +dispelled, and nonchalance follows. With what can they be charged? +They counted upon keeping their vows. Dear me, how many women are too +happy with what is lacking, since men give them a free rein to their +lightness! + +However this may be, the Countess has charged up to you the +inconstancy of your equals; she apprehends that you are no better than +all other lovers. Ready to yield to you, however little you may be +able to reassure her, she is trying to find reasons for believing you +sincere. The love you protest for her does not offend her. What am I +saying? It enchants her. She is so much flattered by it, that her sole +fear is that it may not be true. Dissipate her alarms, show her that +the happiness you offer her and of which she knows the price, is not +an imaginary happiness. Go farther; persuade her that she will enjoy +it forever, and her resistance will disappear, her doubts will vanish, +and she will seize upon everything that will destroy her suspicions +and uncertainty. She would have already believed you; already she +would have resolved to yield to the pleasure of being loved, if she +had believed herself really loved, and that it would last forever. + +How maladroit women are if they imagine that by their fears and their +doubts of the sincerity and constancy of men, they can make any one +believe they are fleeing from love, or despise it! As soon as they +fear they will be deceived in the enjoyment of its pleasures; when +they fear they will not long enjoy it, they already know the charms of +it, and the only source of anxiety then is, that they will be deprived +of its enjoyment too soon. Forever haunted by this fear, and attacked +by the powerful inclination toward pleasure, they hesitate, they +tremble with the apprehension that they will not be permitted to enjoy +it but just long enough to make the privation of it more painful. +Hence, Marquis, you may very easily conjecture a woman who talks to +you as does the Countess, using this language: + +"I can imagine all the delights of love. The idea I have formed of it +is quite seductive. Do you think that deep in my heart I desire to +enjoy its charms less than you? But the more its image is ravishing to +my imagination, the more I fear it is not real, and I refuse to yield +to it lest my happiness be too soon destroyed. Ah, if I could only +hope that my happiness might endure, how feeble would be my +resistance? But will you not abuse my credulity? Will you not some day +punish me for having had too much confidence in you? At least is that +day very far off? Ah, if I could hope to gather perpetually the +fruits of the sacrifice I am making of my repose for your sake, I +confess it frankly, we would soon be in accord." + + + + +XX + +The Half-way House to Love + + +The rival you have been given appears to me to be all the more +redoubtable, as he is the sort of a man I have been advising you to +be. I know the Chevalier; nobody is more competent than he to carry a +seduction to a successful conclusion. I am willing to wager anything +that his heart has never been touched. He makes advances to the +Countess in cold blood. You are lost. A lover as passionate as you +have appeared to be, makes a thousand blunders. The most favorable +designs would perish under your management. He permits everybody to +take the advantage of him on every occasion. Indeed, such is his +misfortune that his precipitation and his timidity injure his +prospects by turns. + +A man who makes love for the pleasure he finds in it, profits by the +smallest advantage; he knows the feeble places and makes himself +master of them. Everything leads his way, everything is combined for +his purpose. Even his imprudences are often the result of wise +reflection; they help him along the road to success; they finally +acquire so superior a position that, from their beginning, so to +speak, dates the hour of his triumph. + +You must be careful, Marquis, not to go to extremes; you must not show +the Countess enough love to lead her to understand the excess of your +passion. Give her something to be anxious about; compel her to take +heed lest she lose you, by giving her opportunities to think that she +may. There is no woman on earth who will treat you more cavalierly +than one who is absolutely certain that your love will not fail her. +Like a merchant for whose goods you have manifested too great an +anxiety to acquire, she will overcharge you with as little regard to +consequences. Moderate, therefore, your imprudent vivacity; manifest +less passion and you will excite more in her heart. We do not +appreciate the worth of a prize more than when we are on the point of +losing it. Some regulation in matters of love are indispensable for +the happiness of both parties. I think I am even justified in advising +you on certain occasions to be a trifle unprincipled. On all other +occasions, though, it is better to be a dupe than a knave; but in +affairs of gallantry, it is only the fools who are the dupes, and +knaves always have the laugh on their side. Adieu. + +I have not the conscience to leave you without a word of consolation. +Do not be discouraged. However redoubtable may be the Chevalier, let +your heart rest in peace. I suspect that the cunning Countess is +making a play with him to worry you. I have no desire to flatter you, +but it gives me pleasure to say, that you are worth more than he. You +are young, you are making your debut in the world, and you are +regarded as a man who has never yet had any love affairs. The +Chevalier has lived; what woman will not appreciate these differences? + + + + +XXI + +The Comedy of Contrariness + + +Probity in love, Marquis? How can you think of such a thing? Ah, you +are like a drowned man. I shall take good care not to show your letter +to any one, it would dishonor you. You do not know how to undertake +the manoeuvres I have advised you to make, you say? Your candor, your +high sentiments made your fortune formerly! Well, love was then +treated like an affair of honor, but nowadays, the corruption of the +age has changed all that; love is now nothing more than a play of the +humor and of vanity. + +Your inexperience still leaves your virtues in an inflexible condition +that will inevitably cause your ruin, if you have not enough +intelligence to bring them into accord with the morals of the times. +One can not now wear his sentiments on his sleeve. Everything is show; +payment is made in airs, demonstrations, signs. Everybody is playing a +comedy, and men have had excellent reasons for keeping up the farce. +They have discovered the fact that nobody can gain anything by telling +the actual truth about women. There is a general agreement to +substitute for this sincerity a collection of contrary phrases. And +this custom has proved contagious in cases of gallantry. + +In spite of your high principles, you will agree with me, that unless +that custom, called "politeness," is not pushed so far as irony or +treason, it is a sociable virtue to follow, and of all the relations +among men, the true meaning of gallantry has more need of being +concealed than that of any other social affair. How many occasions do +you not find where a lover gains more by dissimulating the excess of +his passion, than another who pretends to have more than he really +has? + +I think I understand the Countess; she is more skillful than you. I am +certain she dissimulates her affection for you with greater care than +you take to multiply proofs of yours for her. I repeat; the less you +expose yourself, the better you will be treated. Let her worry in her +turn; inspire her with the fear that she will lose you, and see her +come around. It is the surest way of finding out the true position you +occupy in her heart. Adieu. + + + + +XXII + +Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to Love + + +A silence of ten days, Marquis. You begin to worry me in earnest. The +application you made of my counsel has, then, been successful? I +congratulate you. What I do not approve, however, is your +dissatisfaction with her for refusing to make the confession you +desired. The words: "I love you" seem to be something precious in your +estimation. For fifteen days you have been trying to penetrate the +sentiments of the Countess, and you have succeeded; you know her +affection for you. What more can you possibly want? What further right +over her heart would a confession give you? Truly, I consider you a +strange character. You ought to know that nothing is more calculated +to cause a reasonable woman to revolt, than the obstinacy with which +ordinary men insist upon a declaration of their love. I fail to +understand you. Ought not her refusal to be a thousand times more +precious to a delicate minded lover than a positive declaration? Will +you ever know your real interests? Instead of persecuting a woman on +such a point, expend your energies in concealing from her the extent +of her affection. Act so that she will love you before you call her +attention to the fact, before compelling her to resort to the +necessity of proclaiming it. Is it possible to experience a situation +more delicious than that of seeing a heart interested in you without +suspicion, growing toward you by degrees, finally becoming +affectionate? What a pleasure to enjoy secretly all her movements, to +direct her sentiments, augment them, hasten them, and glory in the +victory even before she has suspected that you have essayed her +defeat! That is what I call pleasure. + +Believe me, Marquis, your conduct toward the Countess must be as if +the open avowal of her love for you had escaped her. Of a truth, she +has not said in words: "I love you," but it is because she really +loves you that she has refrained from saying it. Otherwise she has +done everything to convince you of it. + +Women are under no ordinary embarrassment. They desire for the very +least, as much to confess their affection as you are anxious to +ascertain it, but what do you expect, Marquis? Women ingenious at +raising obstacles, have attached a certain shame to any avowal of +their passion, and whatever idea you men may have formed of our way of +thinking, such an avowal always humiliates us, for however small may +be our experience, we comprehend all the consequences. The words "I +love you" are not criminal, that is true, but their sequel frightens +us, hence we find means to dissimulate, and close our eyes to the +liabilities they carry with them. + +Besides this, be on your guard; your persistence in requiring an open +avowal from the Countess, is less the work of love than a persevering +vanity. I defy you to find a mistake in the true motives behind your +insistence. Nature has given woman a wonderful instinct; it enables +her to discern without mistake whatever grows out of a passion in one +who is a stranger to her. Always indulgent toward the effects produced +by a love we have inspired, we will pardon you many imprudences, many +transports; how can I enumerate them all? All the follies of which you +lovers are capable, we pardon, but you will always find us intractable +when our self-esteem meets your own. Who would believe it? You inspire +us to revolt at things that have nothing to do with your happiness. +Your vanity sticks at trifles, and prevents you from enjoying actual +advantages. Will you believe me when I say it? You will drop your idle +fancies, to delight in the certainty that you are beloved by an +adorable woman; to taste the pleasure of hiding the extent of her love +from herself, to rejoice in its security. Suppose by force of +importunities you should extract an "I love you," what would you gain +by it? Would your uncertainty reach an end? Would you know whether you +owe the avowal to love or complaisance? I think I know women, I ought +to. They can deceive you by a studied confession which the lips only +pronounce, but you will never be the involuntary witness of a passion +you force from them. The true, flattering avowals we make, are not +those we utter, but those that escape us without our knowledge. + + + + +XXIII + +Two Irreconcilable Passions in Women + + +Will you pardon me, Marquis, for laughing at your afflictions? You +take things too much to heart. Some imprudences, you say, have drawn +upon you the anger of the Countess, and your anxiety is extreme. You +kissed her hand with an ecstasy that attracted the attention of +everybody present. She publicly reprimanded you for your indiscretion, +and your marked preference for her, always offensive to other women, +has exposed you to the railleries of the Marquise, her sister-in-law. +Dear me, these are without contradiction terrible calamities! What, +are you simple enough to believe that you are lost beyond salvation +because of an outward manifestation of anger, and you do not even +suspect that inwardly you are justified? You impose upon me the burden +of convincing you of the fact, and in doing so I am forced to reveal +some strange mysteries concerning women. But, I do not intend, in +writing you, to be always apologizing for my sex. I owe you frankness, +however, and having promised it I acquit myself of the promise. + +A woman is always balancing between two irreconcilable passions which +continually agitate her mind: the desire to please, and the fear of +dishonor. You can judge of our embarrassment. On the one hand, we are +consumed with the desire to have an audience to notice the effect of +our charms. Ever engaged in schemes to bring us into notoriety; +ravished whenever we are fortunate enough to humiliate other women, we +would make the whole world witness of the preferences we encounter, +and the homage bestowed upon us. Do you know the measure of our +satisfaction in such cases? The despair of our rivals, the +indiscretions that betray the sentiments we inspire, this enchants us +proportionately to the misery they suffer. Similar imprudences +persuade us much more that we are loved, than that our charms are +incapable of giving us a reputation. + +But what bitterness poisons such sweet pleasures! Beside so many +advantages marches the malignity of rival competitors, and sometimes +your disdain. A fatality which is mournful. The world makes no +distinction between women who permit you to love them, and those whom +you compensate for so doing. Uninfluenced, and sober-minded, a +reasonable woman always prefers a good reputation to celebrity. Put +her beside her rivals who contest with her the prize for beauty, and +though she may lose that reputation of which she appears so jealous, +though she compromise herself a thousand times, nothing is equal in +her opinion to see herself preferred to others. By and by, she will +recompense you by preferences; she will at first fancy that she grants +them out of gratitude, but they will be proofs of her attachment. In +her fear of appearing ungrateful, she becomes tender. + +Can you not draw from this that it is not your indiscretions which vex +us? If they wound us, we must pay tribute to appearances, and you +would be the first to censure an excessive indulgence. + +See that you do not misunderstand us. Not to vex us on such occasions +would be really to offend. We recommend you to practice discretion and +prudence, that is the rôle we enact, is it not? Is it necessary for me +to tell you the part you are to play? I am often reminded that +accepting the letter of the law, is to fail to understand it. You may +be sure that you will be in accord with our intentions as soon as you +are able to interpret them properly. + + + + +XXIV + +An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable + + +The Countess no longer retreats? You think she has no other object in +view than to put your love to the proof? Whatever preference you have +manifested for her; however little precaution you have taken to +testify to your passion, she finds nothing in you but cause for +scolding. The least excuse, however, and the reproaches die upon her +lips, and her anger is so delightful that you do everything to deserve +it. Permit me to share in your joy with all my heart. But although +this behavior flatters you, if you consider that such acts are not +intended to be of long duration, how badly reasonable women, who value +their reputation, misunderstand their true interests by thus +multiplying through an affected incredulity, occasions for slandering +them. Do they not understand and feel that it is not always the moment +when they are tender which gives a blow to their reputation? The doubt +they cast upon the sincerity of the affection they have inspired, does +them more harm in the eyes of the world than even their defeat. As +long as they continue incredulous the slightest imprudence compromises +them. They dispose of their reputation at retail. + +Whenever a lover finds a woman incredulous of the truth of his +sentiments, he goes full lengths, every time he has an opportunity, to +furnish proofs of his sincerity. The most indiscreet eagerness, the +most marked preferences, the most assiduous attentions, seem to him +the best means of succeeding. Can he make use of them without calling +the attention of the whole world to the fact; without offending every +other woman and giving them occasions to be revenged by their sharpest +arrows? + +As soon as the preliminaries are settled, that is to say, as soon as +we commence to believe ourselves sincerely loved, nothing appears on +the surface, nothing happens; and if outsiders perceive our liaison, +if they put a malicious construction upon it, it will only be by the +recollection of what passed during a time when love was not in +question. + +I would, for the good of everybody concerned, that as soon as a woman +ceases to find any pleasure in the society of a man who wishes to +please her, that she could tell him so clearly and dismiss him, +without abusing his credulity, or giving him ground for vain hopes. +But I would also, that as soon as a woman is persuaded that a man +loves her, she could consent to it in good faith, reserving to +herself, however, the right to be further entreated, to such a point +as she may deem apropos, before making an avowal that she feels as +tenderly disposed toward her lover, as he is toward her. For, a woman +can not pretend to doubt without putting her lover to the necessity of +dissipating her doubts, and he can not do that successfully without +taking the whole world into his confidence by a too marked homage. + +I know very well that these ideas would not have been probable in +times when the ignorance of men rendered so many women intractable, +but, in these times when the audacity of our assailants leaves us so +few resources, in these times, I say, when, since the invention of +powder, there are few impregnable places, why undertake a prolonged +formal siege, when it is certain that after much labor and many +disasters it will be necessary to capitulate? + +Bring your amiable Countess to reason; show her the inconveniences of +a prolonged disregard of your sentiments. You will convince her of +your passion, you will compel her to believe you through regard for +her reputation, and still better, perhaps, you will furnish her with +an additional reason for giving you a confidence she doubtless now +finds it difficult to withhold from you. + + + + +XXV + +Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome + + +My last letter has apparently scandalized you, Marquis. You insist +that it is not impossible to find virtuous women in our age of the +world. Well, have I ever said anything to the contrary? Comparing +women to besieged castles, have I ever advanced the idea that there +were some that had not been taken? How could I have said such a thing? +There are some that have never been besieged, so you perceive that I +am of your opinion. I will explain, however, so that there will be no +more chicanery about the question. + +Here is my profession of faith in this matter: I firmly believe that +there are good women who have never been attacked, or who have been +wrongly attacked. + +I further firmly believe that there are good women who have been +attacked and well attacked, when they have had neither disposition, +violent passions, liberty, nor a hated husband. + +I have a mind at this point to put you in possession of a rather +lively conversation on this particular point, while I was still very +young, with a prude, whom an adventure of some brilliancy unmasked. I +was inexperienced then, and I was in the habit of judging others with +that severity which every one is disposed to manifest until some +personal fault has made us more indulgent toward our neighbors. I had +considered it proper to blame the conduct of this woman without mercy. +She heard of it. I sometimes saw her at an aunt's, and made +preparations to attack her morals. Before I had an opportunity she +took the matter into her own hands, by taking me aside one day, and +compelled me to submit to the following harangue, which I confess made +a deep impression in my memory: + +"It is not for the purpose of reproaching you for the talk you have +been making on my account, that I wish to converse with you in the +absence of witnesses," she explained, "it is to give you some advice, +the truth and solidity of which you will one day appreciate. + +"You have seen fit to censure my conduct with a severity, you have +actually treated me with a disdain, which tells me how proud you are +of the fact that you have never been taken advantage of. You believe +in your own virtue and that it will never abandon you. This is a pure +illusion of your amour propre, my dear child, and I feel impelled to +enlighten your inexperience, and to make you understand, that far from +being sure of that virtue which renders you so severe, you are not +even sure that you have any at all. This prologue astonishes you, eh? +Well, listen with attention, and you will soon be convinced of the +truth whereof I speak. + +"Up to the present time, nobody has ever spoken to you of love. Your +mirror alone has told you that you are beautiful. Your heart, I can +see by the appearance of indifference that envelops you like a +mantle, has not yet been developed. As long as you remain as you are, +as long as you can be kept in sight as you are, I will be your +guarantee. But when your heart has spoken, when your enchanting eyes +shall have received life and expression from sentiment, when they +shall speak the language of love, when an internal unrest shall +agitate your breast, when, in fine, desire, half stifled by the +scruples of a good education, shall have made you blush more than once +in secret, then your sensibility, through the combats by which you +will attempt to vanquish it, will diminish your severity toward +others, and their faults will appear more excusable. + +"The knowledge of your weakness will no longer permit you to regard +your virtue as infallible. Your astonishment will carry you still +farther. The little help it will be to you against too impetuous +inclinations, will make you doubt whether you ever had any virtue. Can +you say a man is brave before he has ever fought? It is the same with +us. The attacks made upon us are alone the parents of our virtue, as +danger gives birth to valor. As long as one has not been in the +presence of the enemy, it is impossible to say whether he is to be +feared, and what degree of resistance it will be necessary to bear +against him. + +"Hence to justify a woman in flattering herself that she is +essentially virtuous and good by force of her own strength, she must +be in a position where no danger, however great it may be, no motive +no matter how pressing, no pretext whatever, shall be powerful enough +to triumph over her. She must meet with the most favorable +opportunities, the most tender love, the certainty of secrecy, the +esteem and the most perfect confidence in him who attacks her. In a +word, all these circumstances combined should not be able to make an +impression upon her courage, so that to know whether a woman be +virtuous in the true meaning of the word, one must imagine her as +having escaped unscathed all these united dangers, for it would not be +virtue but only resistance where there should be love without the +disposition, or disposition without the occasion. Her virtue would +always be uncertain, as long as she had never been attacked by all the +weapons which might vanquish her. One might always say of her: if she +had been possessed of a different constitution, she might not have +resisted love, or, if a favorable occasion had presented itself, her +virtue would have played the fool." + +"According to this," said I, "it would be impossible to find a single +virtuous woman, for no one has ever had so many enemies to combat." + +"That may be," she replied, "but do you know the reason? Because it is +not necessary to have so many to overcome us, one alone is sufficient +to obtain the victory." + +But I stuck to my proposition: "You pretend then that our virtue does +not depend upon ourselves, since you make it the puppet of occasion, +and of other causes foreign to our own will?" + +"There is no doubt about it," she answered. "Answer me this: Can you +give yourself a lively or sedate disposition? Are you free to defend +yourself against a violent passion? Does it depend upon you to arrange +all the circumstances of your life, so that you will never find +yourself alone with a lover who adores you, who knows his advantages +and how to profit by them? Does it depend upon you to prevent his +pleadings, I assume them to be innocent at first, from making upon +your senses the impression they must necessarily make? Certainly not; +to insist upon such an anomaly would be to deny that the magnet is +master of the needle. And you pretend that your virtue is your own +work, that you can personally claim the glory of an advantage that is +liable to be taken from you at any moment? Virtue in women, like all +the other blessings we enjoy, is a gift from Heaven; it is a favor +which Heaven may refuse to grant us. Reflect then how unreasonable you +are in glorifying in your virtue: consider your injustice when you so +cruelly abuse those who have had the misfortune to be born with an +ungovernable inclination toward love, whom a sudden violent passion +has surprised, or who have found themselves in the midst of +circumstances out of which you would not have emerged with any greater +glory. + +"Shall I give you another proof of the justice of my ideas? I will +take it from your own conduct. Are you not dominated by that deep +persuasion that every woman who wishes to preserve her virtue, need +never allow herself to be caught, that she must watch over the +smallest trifles, because they lead to things of greater importance? +It is much easier for you to take from men the desire to make an +attack upon your virtue by assuming a severe exterior, than to defend +against their attacks. The proof of this is in the fact that we give +young girls in their education as little liberty as is possible in +order to restrain them. We do more: a prudent mother does not rely +upon her fear of dishonor, nor upon the bad opinion she has of men, +she keeps her daughter out of sight; she puts it out of her power to +succumb to temptation. What is the excuse for so many precautions? +Because the mother fears the frailty of her pupil, if she is exposed +for an instant to danger. + +"In spite of all these obstacles with which she is curbed, how often +does it not happen that love overcomes them all? A girl well trained, +or better, well guarded, laughs at her virtue, because she imagines it +is all her own, whereas, it is generally a slave rigorously chained +down, who thinks everybody is satisfied with him as long as he does +not run away. Let us inquire further into this: In what class do you +find abandoned females? In that where they have not sufficient wealth +or happiness constantly to provide themselves with the obstacles which +have saved you; in that, where men have attacked their virtue with +more audacity, more facility, more frequency, and more impunity, and +consequently with more advantages of every sort; in that, where the +impressions of education, of example, of pride, the desire of a +satisfactory establishment could not sustain them. Two doors below, +there is a woman whom you hate and despise. And in spite of the +outside aid which sustains that virtue, of which you are so proud, in +two days you might be more despicable than she, because you will have +had greater helps to guarantee you against misfortune. I am not +seeking to deprive you of the merit of your virtue, nor am I +endeavoring to prevent you from attaching too much importance to it; +by convincing you of its fragility, I wish to obtain from you only a +trifle of indulgence for those whom a too impetuous inclination, or +the misfortunes of circumstances have precipitated into a position so +humiliating in their own eyes; my sole object is to make you +understand that you ought to glorify yourself less in the possession +of an advantage which you do not owe to yourself, and of which you may +be deprived to-morrow." + +She was going to continue, but some one interrupted us. Soon +afterward, I learned by my own experience that I should not have had +so good an opinion of many virtues which had been formerly imposed +upon me, beginning with my own. + + + + +XXVI + +Love Demands Freedom of Action + + +I have been of the same opinion as you, Marquis, although the ideas I +communicated to you yesterday appeared to be true speculatively, that +it would be dangerous if all women were to be guided by them. It is +not by a knowledge of their frailty, that women will remain virtuous, +but by the conviction that they are free and mistresses of themselves +when it comes to yield or to resist. Is it by persuading a soldier +that he will be vanquished that he is goaded into fighting with +courage? Did you not notice that the woman who did the talking as I +have related in my last letter, had a personal interest in maintaining +her system? It is true, that when we examine her reasoning according +to the rules of philosophy, it does seem to be a trifle specious, but +it is to be feared that in permitting ourselves to reason in that +fashion on what virtue is, we may succeed in converting into a +problem, the rules we should receive and observe as a law, which it is +a crime to construe. Moreover, to persuade women that it is not to +themselves they are indebted for the virtue they possess, might it mot +deprive them of the most powerful motive to induce them to preserve +it? I mean by that, the persuasion that it is their own work they +defend. The consequences of such morality would be discouraging, and +tend to diminish, in the eyes of a guilty woman, the importance of her +errors. But let us turn to matters of more interest to you. + +At last, after so many uncertainties, after so many revolutions in +your imagination, you are sure you are loved? You have finally +succeeded in exciting the Countess to divulge her secret during a +moment of tenderness. The words you burned to hear have been +pronounced. More, she has allowed to escape her, a thousand +involuntary proofs of the passion you have inspired. Far from +diminishing your love, the certainty that you are beloved in return +has increased it; in a word, you are the happiest of men. If you knew +with how much pleasure I share your happiness you would be still +happier. The first sacrifice she desired to make was to refuse to +receive the Chevalier: you were opposed to her making it, and you were +quite right. It would have compromised the Countess for nothing, which +calls to my mind the fact, that women generally lose more by +imprudence than by actual faults. The confidence you so nobly +manifested in her, ought to have greatly impressed her. + +Everything is now as it should be. However, shall I tell you +something? The way this matter has turned out alarms me. We agreed, if +you remember, that we were to treat the subject of love without +gloves. You were not to have at the most but a light and fleeting +taste of it, and not a regulated passion. Now I perceive that things +become more serious every day. You are beginning to treat love with a +dignity which worries me. The knowledge of true merits, solid +qualities, and good character is creeping into the motives of your +liaison, and combining with the personal charms which render you so +blindly amorous. I do not like to have so much esteem mixed with an +affair of pure gallantry. It leaves no freedom of action, it is work +instead of amusement. I was afraid in the beginning that your +relations would assume a grave and measured turn. But perhaps you will +only too soon have new pretensions, and the Countess by new disputes +will doubtless re-animate your liaison. Too constant a peace is +productive of a deadly ennui. Uniformity kills love, for as soon as +the spirit of method mingles in an affair of the heart, the passion +disappears, languor supervenes, weariness begins to wear, and disgust +ends the chapter. + + + + +XXVII + +The Heart Needs Constant Employment + + +Madame de Sévigné does not agree with me upon the causes of love as I +give them. She pretends that many women know it only from its refined +side, and that the senses never count for anything in their heart +affairs. According to her, although what she calls my "system" should +be well founded, it would always be unbecoming in the mouth of a +woman, and might become a precedent in morals. + +These are assuredly very serious exceptions, Marquis, but are they +well grounded? I do not think so. I see with pain that Madame de +Sévigné has not read my letters in the spirit I wrote them. What, I +the founder of systems? Truly, she does me too much honor, I have +never been serious enough to devise any system. Besides, according to +my notion, a system is nothing but a philosophic dream, and therefore +does she consider all I have told you as a play of the imagination? In +that case, we are very far out of our reckoning. I do not imagine, I +depict real objects. I would have one truth acknowledged, and to +accomplish that, my purpose is not to surprise the mind; I consult the +sentiments. Perhaps she has been struck by the singularity of some of +my propositions, which appeared to me so evident that I did not think +it worth while to maintain them; but is it necessary to make use of a +mariner's compass to develop the greater or less amount of truth in a +maxim of gallantry? + +Moreover, I have such a horror of formal discussions, that I would +prefer to agree to anything rather than engage in them. Madame de +Sévigné, you say, is acquainted with a number of female +metaphysicians--there! there! I will grant her these exceptions, +provided she leaves me the general thesis. I will even admit, if you +so desire, that there are certain souls usually styled "privileged," +for I have never heard anybody deny the virtues of temperament. So, I +have nothing to say about women of that species. I do not criticise +them, nor have I any reproaches to make them; neither do I believe it +my duty to praise them, it is sufficient to congratulate them. +However, if you investigate them you will discover the truth of what I +have been saying since the commencement of our correspondence: the +heart must be occupied with some object. If nature does not incline +them in that direction, no one can lead them in the direction of +gallantry, their affection merely changes its object. Such a one +to-day appears to be insensible to the emotion of love, only because +she has disposed of all that portion of the sentiment she had to give. +The Count de Lude, it is said, was not always indifferent to Madame de +Sévigné. Her extreme tenderness for Madame Grignan (her daughter), +however, occupies her entire time at present. According to her, I am +very much at fault concerning women? In all charity I should have +disguised the defects which I have discovered in my sex, or, if you +prefer to have it that way, which my sex have discovered in me. + +But, do you really believe, Marquis, that if everything I have said on +this subject be made public, the women would be offended? Know them +better, Marquis; all of them would find there what is their due. +Indeed, to tell them that it is purely a mechanical instinct which +inclines them to flirt, would not that put them at their ease? Does it +not seem to be restoring to favor that fatality, those expressions of +sympathy, which they are so delighted to give as excuses for their +mistakes, and in which I have so little faith? Granting that love is +the result of reflection, do you not see what a blow you are giving +their vanity? You place upon their shoulders the responsibility far +their good or bad choice. + +One more thrust, Marquis: I am not mistaken when I say that all women +would be satisfied with my letters. The female metaphysicians, that +is, those women whom Heaven has favored with a fortunate constitution, +would take pleasure in recognizing in them their superiority over +other women; they would not fail to congratulate themselves upon the +delicacy of their own sentiments, and to consider them as works of +their own creation. Those whom nature built of less refined material, +would without doubt owe me some gratitude for revealing a secret which +was weighing upon them. They have made it a duty to disguise their +inclinations, and they are as anxious not to fail in this duty as they +are careful not to lose anything on the pleasure side of the question. +Their interest, therefore, is, to have their secret guessed without +being compromised. Whoever shall develop their hearts, will not fail +to render them an essential service. I am even fully convinced that +those women, who at heart, profess sentiments more comformable to +mine, would be the first to consider it an honor to dispute them. +Hence, I would be paying my court to women in two fashions, which +would be equally agreeable: In adopting the maxims which flatter their +inclinations, and in furnishing them with an occasion to appear +refined. + +After all, Marquis, do you think it would betray a deep knowledge of +women, to believe that they could be offended with the malicious talk +I have been giving you about them? Somebody said a long time ago, that +women would rather have a little evil said of them than not be talked +about at all You see therefore, that even supposing that I have +written you in the intention with which I am charged, they would be +very far from being able to reproach me in the slightest degree. + +Finally, Madame de Sévigné pretends that my "system" might become a +precedent. Truly, Marquis, I do not understand how, with the justice +for which she is noted, she was able to surrender to such an idea. In +stripping love, as I have, of everything liable to seduce you, in +making it out to be the effect of temperament, caprice, and vanity; +in a word, in undeceiving you concerning the metaphysics that lend it +grandeur and nobility, is it not evident that I have rendered it less +dangerous? Would it not be more dangerous, if, as pretends Madame de +Sévigné, it were to be transformed into a virtue? I would willingly +compare my sentiments with those of the celebrated legislator of +antiquity, who believed the best means of weakening the power of women +over his fellow citizens was to expose their nakedness. But I wish to +make one more effort in your favor. Since I am regarded as a woman +with a system, it will be better for me to submit to whatever such a +fine title exacts. Let us reason, therefore, for a moment upon +gallantry according to the method which appertains only to serious +matters. + +Is love not a passion? Do not very strict minded people pretend that +the passions and vices mean the same things? Is vice ever more +seductive than when it wears the cloak of virtue? Wherefore in order +to corrupt virtuous souls it is sufficient for it to appear in a +potential form. This is the form in which the Platonicians deified it. +In all ages, in order to justify the passions, it was necessary to +apotheosize them. What am I saying? Am I so bold as to play the +iconoclast with an accredited superstition? What temerity! Do I not +deserve to be persecuted by all women for attacking their favorite +cult? + +I am sorry for them; it was so lovely, when they felt the movements of +love, to be exempt from blushing, to be able even to congratulate +themselves, and lay the blame upon the operations of a god. But what +had poor humanity done to them? Why misunderstand it and seek for the +cause of its weakness in the Heavens? Let us remain on earth, we shall +find it there, and it is its proper home. + +In truth, I have never in my letters openly declaimed against love; I +have never advised you not to take the blame of it. I was too well +persuaded of the uselessness of such advice; but I told you what love +is, and I therefore diminished the illusion it would not have failed +to create in your mind; I weakened its power over you and experience +will justify me. + +I am perfectly well aware that a very different use is made of it in +the education of females. And what sort of profit is there in the +methods employed? The very first step is to deceive them. Their +teachers strive to inspire them with as much fear of love as of evil +spirits. Men are depicted as monsters of infidelity and perfidy. Now +suppose a gentleman appears who expresses delicate sentiments, whose +bearing is modest and respectful? The young woman with whom he +converses will believe she has been imposed upon; and as soon as she +discovers how much exaggeration there has been, her advisers will lose +all credit so far as she is concerned. Interrogate such a young woman, +and if she is sincere, you will find that the sentiments the alleged +monster has excited in her heart are far from being the sentiments of +horror. + +They are deceived in another manner also, and the misery of it is, it +is almost impossible to avoid it. Infinite care is taken to keep from +them the knowledge, to prevent them from having even an idea that they +are liable to be attacked by the senses, and that such attacks are the +most dangerous of all for them. They are drilled in the idea that they +are immaculate spirits, and what happens then? Inasmuch as they have +never been forewarned of the species of attacks they must encounter, +they are left without defense. They have never mistrusted that their +most redoubtable enemy is the one that has never been mentioned: how +then can they be on their guard against him? It is not men they should +be taught to fear, but themselves? What could a lover do, if the woman +he attacks were not seduced by her own desires? + +So, Marquis, when I say to women that the principal cause of their +weaknesses is physical, I am far from advising them to follow their +inclinations; on the contrary, it is for the purpose of putting them +on their guard in that respect. It is saying to the Governor of the +citadel, that he will not be attacked at the spot which up to then has +been the best fortified; that the most redoubtable assault will not be +made by the besiegers, but that he will be betrayed by his own. + +In a word, in reducing to their just value, the sentiments to which +women attach such high and noble ideas; in enlightening them upon the +real object of a lover who pretends to great delicacy and refinement, +do you not see that I am interesting their vanity to draw less glory +out of the fact of being loved, and their hearts to take less pleasure +in loving? Depend upon it, that if it were possible to enlist their +vanity in opposition to their inclination to gallantry, their virtue +would most assuredly suffer very little. + +I have had lovers, but none of them deceived me by any illusions. I +could penetrate their motives astonishingly well. I was always +persuaded that if whatever was of value from the standpoint of +intellect and character, was considered as anything among the reasons +that led them to love me, it was only because those qualities +stimulated their vanity. They were amorous of me, because I had a +beautiful figure, and they possessed the desire. So it came about that +they never obtained more than the second place in my heart. I have +always conserved for friendship the deference, the constancy, and the +respect even, which a sentiment so noble, so worthy deserves in an +elevated soul. It has never been possible for me to overcome my +distrust for hearts in which love was the principal actor. This +weakness degraded them in my eyes; I considered them incompetent to +raise their mind up to sentiments of true esteem for a woman for whom +they have felt a desire. + +You see, therefore, Marquis, that the precedent I draw from my +principles is far from being dangerous. All that enlightened minds can +find with which to reproach me, will be, perhaps, because I have +taken the trouble to demonstrate a truth which they do not consider +problematic. But does not your inexperience and your curiosity justify +whatever I have written so far, and whatever I may yet write you on +this subject? + + + + +XXVIII + +Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance + + +You are not mistaken, Marquis, the taste and talent of the Countess +for the clavecin (piano) will tend to increase your love and +happiness. I have always said that women do not fully realize the +advantages they might draw from their talents; indeed, there is not a +moment when they are not of supreme utility; most women always +calculating on the presence of a beloved object as the only thing to +be feared. In such case they have two enemies to combat; their love +and their lover. But when the lover departs, love remains; and +although the progress it makes in solitude is not so rapid, it is no +less dangerous. It is then that the execution of a sonata, the +sketching of a flower, the reading of a good book, will distract the +attention from a too seductive remembrance, and fix the mind on +something useful. All occupations which employ the mind are so many +thefts from love. + +Suppose his inclination brings a lover to our knees, what can he +accomplish with a woman who is only tender and pretty? With what can +he employ his time if he does not find in her society something +agreeable, some variety? Love is an active sentiment, it is a +consuming fire always demanding additional fuel, and if it can find +only sensible objects upon which to feed, it will keep to that diet. I +mean to say, that when the mind is not occupied the senses find +something to do. + +There are too many gesticulations while talking, sometimes I think we +shall be compelled to use sign language with a person we know to be +unable to understand a more refined language. It is not in resisting +advances, nor in taking offense at too bold a caress that a woman is +enabled to maintain her virtue. When she is attacked in that fashion, +even while defending herself, her senses are excited and the very +agitation which impels her to resist, hastens her defeat. But it is by +distracting the attention of the man to other objects, that the woman +is relieved of the necessity of resisting his advances, or taking +offense at his liberties to which she herself has opened the way, for +there is one thing certain, which is, that a man will never disappoint +a woman who is anxious for him. + +You will not find a single woman, unless you can suppose one +absolutely ignorant, who is not able to gauge exactly the degree of +familiarity she ought to permit. Those who complain that their lovers +do not come up to the mark do not affect me in the least. Inquire into +the reason, and you will perceive that their stupidities, their +imprudences are the cause. It was their desire to be found wanting. + +Defect in culture may expose us to the same inconveniences, for with a +woman without mind, and without talents what else is there to do but +undertake her conquest? When in her company, the only way to kill +time is to annoy her. There is nothing to talk about but her beauty, +and of the impression she has made upon the senses, and sensual +language is the only one that can be employed for that purpose. She +herself is not convinced that you love her, and she does not respond, +she does not recompense you but by the assistance of the senses, and +exhibits an agitation equal to yours, or else, her decency gone, she +has nothing but bad humor with which to oppose you. This is the last +ditch of a woman without mind, and what a culmination! On the +contrary, what are not the advantages of an intelligent, resourceful +woman? A lively repartee, piquant raillery, a quarrel seasoned with a +trifle of malice, a happy citation, a graceful recitation, are not +these so many distractions for her, and the time thus employed, is it +not so much gained for virtue? + +The great misfortune with women is, without doubt, the inability to +find occupations worthy of their attention, and this is the reason why +love with them is a more violent passion than with men, but they have +a characteristic which, properly directed may serve as an antidote. +All women, to say the least, are as vain as they are sensitive, +whence, the cure for sensitiveness is vanity. While a woman is +occupied in pleasing in other ways than by the beauty of her figure, +she loses sight of the sentiment which inspires her to act. In truth, +this sentiment will not cease to be the "determining motive" (you must +permit me to use some technical term of art), but it will not be the +actual object presented to her attention, and that is something +gained. Wholly devoted to the care of becoming perfect in the species +of glory to which she aspires, this same desire, of which love will be +the source, will turn against love, by dividing the attention of the +mind and the affections of the heart; in a word it will create a +diversion. + +But perhaps you will tell me that there are women of spirit and +talents beyond the reach of attack. Whence you infer that men who do +not dislike freedom will avoid them, but that fools and men of +intelligence cultivate them. That is true, but the fools take to them +because they do not perceive the difficulty in their way, and men of +intelligence do not avoid them, because they aspire to surmount it. + +Now, ought not you, who are a military man, to appreciate everything I +say to you about talent? I will suppose a campaign upon which you have +entered; you have been given charge of conducting the siege of a city. +Would you be satisfied if the governor, persuaded that the city is not +impregnable, should open to you the gates without having given you the +least occasion to distinguish yourself? I venture to say not; he +should resist, and the more he seeks to cover himself with glory, the +more glory he gives you. Well, Marquis, in love as in war, the +pleasure of obtaining a victory is measured according to the obstacles +in the way of it. Shall I say it? I am tempted to push the parallel +farther. See what it is to take a first step. The true glory of a +woman consists less, perhaps, in yielding, than in putting in a good +defense, so that she will merit the honors of war. + +I shall go still farther. Let a woman become feeble enough to be at +the point of yielding, what is left her to retain a satisfactory +lover, if her intelligence and talents do not come to her aid? I am +well aware that they do not give themselves these advantages, but if +we investigate the matter, we shall find that there are very few women +who may not acquire a few accomplishments if they really set about it; +the difference would only be the more, at least. But women are +generally born too indolent to be able to make such an effort. They +have discovered that there is nothing so convenient as being pretty. +This manner of pleasing does not require any labor; they would be glad +not to have any other. Blind that they are, they do not see that +beauty and talents equally attract the attention of men, but, beauty +merely exposes her who possesses it, whereas talents furnish her with +the means of defending it. + +In a word, to appreciate it at its full value, beauty stores up +regrets and a mortal weariness for the day when it shall cease to +exist. Would you know the reason? It is because it drowns out all +other resources. As long as beauty lasts, a woman is regarded as +something, she is celebrated, a crowd sighs at her feet. She flatters +herself that this will go on forever. What a desolate solitude when +age comes to ravish her of the only merit she possesses? I would like, +therefore (my expression is not elevated, but it interprets my +thought), I would like that in a woman, beauty could be a sign of +other advantages. + +Let us agree, Marquis, that in love, the mind is made more use of than +the heart. A liaison of the heart is a drama in which the acts are the +shortest and the between acts the longest; with what then, would you +fill the interludes if not with accomplishments? Possession puts every +woman on the same level, and exposes all of them equally to +infidelity. The elegant and the beautiful, when they are nothing else, +have not, in that respect, any advantage over her who is plain; the +mind, in that case making all the difference. That alone can bestow +upon the same person the variety necessary to prevent satiety. +Moreover, it is only accomplishments that can fill the vacuum of a +passion that has been satisfied, and we can always have them in any +situation we may imagine, either to postpone defeat and render it more +flattering, or to assure us of our conquests. Lovers themselves profit +by them. How many things they cherish although they set their faces +against them? Wherefore, let the Countess, while cultivating her +decided talent for the clavecin, understand her interests and yours. + +I have read over my letter, my dear Marquis, and I tremble lest you +find it a trifle serious. You see what happens when one is in bad +company. I supped last night with M. de la Rochefoucauld, and I never +see him that he does not spoil me in this fashion, at least for three +or four days. + + + + +XXIX + +The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal + + +I think as you do, Marquis, the Countess punishes you too severely for +having surprised an avowal of her love. Is it your fault if her secret +escaped? She has gone too far to retreat. A woman can experience a +return to reason, but to go so far as to refuse to see you for three +days; give out that she has gone into the country for a month; return +your tender letters without opening them, is, in my opinion, a +veritable caprice of virtue. After all, however, do not despair +whatever may happen. If she were really indifferent she would be less +severe. + +Do not make any mistake about this: There are occasions when a woman +is less out of humor with you than with herself. She feels with +vexation that her weakness is ready to betray her at any moment. She +punishes you for it, and she punishes herself by being unkind to you. +But you may be sure that one day of such caprice advances the progress +of a lover more than a year of care and assiduity. A woman soon begins +to regret her unkindness; she deems herself unjust; she desires to +repair her fault, and she becomes benevolent. + +What surprises me the most is the marked passage in your letter which +states that since the Countess has appeared to love you, her +character has totally changed. I have no particular information on +that point. All I know is, that she made her debut in society as a +lady of elegance, and her debut was all the more marked because, +during the life of her husband, her conduct was entirely the contrary. +Do you not remember when you first made her acquaintance, that she was +lively even to giddiness, heedless, bold, even coquettish, and +appeared to be incapable of a reasonable attachment? However, to-day, +you tell me, she has become a serious melancholic; pre-occupied, +timid, affected; sentiment has taken the place of mincing airs; at +least she appears to so fit in with the character she assumes to-day, +that you imagine it to be her true one, and her former one, borrowed. +All my philosophy would be at fault in such a case, if I did not +recognize in this metamorphosis the effects of love. I am very much +mistaken if the storm raging around you to-day, does not end in the +most complete victory, and one all the more assured because she has +done everything in her power to prevent it. But if you steadily pursue +your object, carrying your pursuit even as far as importunity, follow +her wherever she goes and where you can see her; if you take it upon +yourself not to allude to your passion, and treat her with all the +mannerism of an attentive follower, respectful, but impressed, what +will happen? She will be unable to refuse you the courtesies due any +indifferent acquaintance. Women possess an inexhaustible fund of +kindness for those who love them. You know this well, you men, and it +is what always reassures you when you are treated unkindly. You know +that your presence, your attentions, the sorrow that affects you have +their effect, and end by disarming our pride. + +You are persuaded that those whom our virtue keeps at a distance +through pride, are precisely those whom it fears the most, and +unfortunately, your guess is only too just, it keeps them off, indeed, +because it is not sure of its ability to resist them. It does more +sometimes, it goes to the length of braving an enemy whose attack it +dares not anticipate. In a word, the courage of a reasonable woman is +nearly always equal to a first effort, but rarely is that effort +lasting. The very excess of its violence is the cause of its +weakening. The soul has only one degree of force, and exhausted by the +constraint that effort cost it, it abandons itself to lassitude. By +and by, the knowledge of its weakness throws it into discouragement. A +woman of that disposition bears the first shock of a redoubtable enemy +with courage, but, the danger better understood, she fears a second +attack. A woman, persuaded that she has done everything possible to +defend herself against an inclination which is urging her on, +satisfied with the combats in which she has been engaged, finally +reaches the opinion that her resistance can not prevail against the +power of love. If she still resist, it is not by her own strength; she +derives no help except from the idea of the intrepidity she at first +displayed to him who attacks, or from the timidity she inspired in +him in the beginning of her resistance. Thus it is, that however +reasonable she may be, she nearly always starts out with a fine +defense, she only needs pride to resolve upon that; but unfortunately, +you divine the means of overcoming her, you persevere in your attacks, +she is not indefatigable, and you have so little delicacy that, +provided you obtain her heart, it is of no consequence to you whether +you have obtained it through your importunities or with her consent. + +Besides that, Marquis, the excess of precautions a woman takes against +you, is strong evidence of how much you are feared. If you were an +object of indifference, would a woman take the trouble to avoid you? I +declare to you that she would not honor you by being afraid of you. +But I know how unreasonable lovers are. Always ingenious in tormenting +themselves, the habit of never having but one object in view is so +powerful, that they prefer being pestered with one that is +disagreeable than with none at all. + +However, I feel sorry for you. Smitten as you are, your situation can +not fail to be a sad one. The poor Marquis, how badly he is treated! + + + + +XXX + +When Resistance Is Only a Pretense + + +I was delighted to learn before my departure for the country, that +your mind was more at rest. I feel free to say, that if the Countess +had persevered in treating you with the same severity, I should have +suspected, not that she was insensible to your love, but that you had +a fortunate rival. The resistance manifested by her would have been +beyond her strength in a single combat. For you should be well +advised, Marquis, that a woman is never more intractable than when she +assumes a haughtiness toward all other men, for the sake of her +favorite lover. + +I see in everything you have told me, proofs that you are loved, and +that you are the only one. I will be able to give you constant news on +that score, for I am going to investigate the Countess for myself. +This will surprise you, no doubt. Your astonishment will cease, +however, when you call to mind that Madame de la Sablière's house, +where I am going to spend a week, adjoins the grounds of your amiable +widow. You told me that she was at home, and, add to the neighborhood, +the unmeasured longing I have to make her acquaintance, you will not +be surprised at the promise I have just made you. + +I have not the time to finish this letter, nor the opportunity to +send it. I must depart immediately, and my traveling companion is +teasing me in a strange fashion, pretending that I am writing a love +letter. I am letting her think what she pleases, and carry the letter +with me to the country. Adieu. What! Madame de Grignan's illness will +not permit you to visit us in our solitude? + +Du Château de---. + +I am writing you from the country house of the Countess, my dear +Marquis, this is the third day I have been with her, which will enable +you to understand that I am not in bad favor with the mistress of the +house. She is an adorable woman, I am delighted with her. I sometimes +doubt whether you deserve a heart like hers. Here I am her confidante. +She has told me all she thinks about you, and I do not despair of +discovering, before I return to the city, the reasons for the change +in her character which you have remarked. I dare not write you more +now, I may be interrupted, and I do not wish any one to know that I am +writing you from this place. Adieu. + + + + +XXXI + +The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la Sablière + + +How many things I have to tell you, Marquis! I was preparing to keep +my word with you, and had arranged to use strategy upon the Countess +to worm her secret from her, when chance came to my aid. + +You are not ignorant of her confidence in Monsieur de la Sablière. She +was with him just now in an arbor of the garden, and I was passing +through a bushy path intending to join them, when the mention of your +name arrested my steps. I was not noticed, and heard all the +conversation, which I hasten to communicate to you word for word. + +"I have not been able to conceal from your penetration, my inclination +for M. de Sévigné," said the Countess, "and you can not reconcile the +serious nature of so decided a passion with the frivolity attributed +to me in society. You will be still more astonished when I tell you +that my exterior character is not my true one, that the seriousness +you notice in me now, is a return to my former disposition; I was +never giddy except through design. Perhaps you may have imagined that +women can only conceal their faults, but they sometimes go much +farther, sir, and I am an instance. They even disguise their virtues, +and since the word has escaped me, I am tempted, at the risk of +wearying you, to explain by what strange gradation I reached that +point. + +"During my married life I lived retired from the world. You knew the +Count and his taste for solitude. When I became a widow, there was the +question of returning to society, and my embarrassment as to how I was +to present myself was not small. I interrogated my own heart; in vain +I sought to hide it from my own knowledge, I had a strong taste for +the pleasures of society; but at the same time I was determined to add +to it purity of morals. But how to reconcile all this? It seemed to me +a difficult task to establish a system of conduct which, without +compromising me, would not at the same time deprive me of the +pleasures of life. + +"This is the way I reasoned: Destined to live among men, formed to +please them, and to share in their happiness, we are obliged to suffer +from their caprices, and above all fear their malignity. It seems that +they have no other object in our education than that of fitting us for +love, indeed, it is the only passion permitted us, and by a strange +and cruel contrariety, they have left us only one glory to obtain, +which is that of gaining a victory over the very inclination imposed +upon us. I therefore endeavored to ascertain the best means of +reconciling in use and custom, two such glaring extremes, and I found +predicaments on all sides. + +"We are, I said to myself, simple enough when we enter society, to +imagine that the greatest happiness of a woman should be to love and +be loved. We then are under the impression that love is based on +esteem, upheld by the knowledge of amiable qualities, purified by +delicacy of sentiment, divested of all the insipidities which +disfigure it, in a word, fostered by confidence and the effusions of +the heart. But unfortunately, a sentiment so flattering for a woman +without experience, is everything less than that in practice. She is +always disabused when too late. + +"I was so good in the beginning as to be scandalized at two +imperfections I perceived in men, their inconstancy and their +untruthfulness. The reflections I made on the first of these defects, +led me to the opinion that they were more unfortunate than guilty. +From the manner in which the human heart is constituted, is it +possible for it to be occupied with only one object? No, but does the +treachery of men deserve the same indulgence? Most men attack a +woman's virtue in cold blood, in the design to use her for their +amusement, to sacrifice her to their vanity, to fill a void in an idle +life, or to acquire a sort of reputation based upon the loss of ours. +There is a large number of men in this class. How to distinguish true +lovers? They all look alike on the surface, and the man who pretends +to be amorous, is often more seductive than one who really is. + +"We are, moreover, dupes enough to make love a capital affair. You +men, on the contrary, consider it merely a play; we rarely surrender +to it without an inclination for the person of the lover; you are +coarse enough to yield to it without taste. Constancy with us is a +duty; you give way to the slightest distaste without scruple. You are +scarcely decent in leaving a mistress, the possession of whom, six +months before, was your glory and happiness. She may consider herself +well off if she is not punished by the most cruel indiscretions. + +"Hence I regarded things from their tragical side, and said to myself: +'If love draws with it so many misfortunes, a woman who cherishes her +peace of mind and reputation, should never love.' However, everything +tells me that we have a heart, that this heart is made for love, and +that love is involuntary. Why, then, venture to destroy an inclination +that is part of our being? Would it not be wiser to rectify it? Let us +see how it will be possible to succeed in such an enterprise. + +"What is a dangerous love? I have observed that kind of love. It is a +love which occupies the whole soul to the exclusion of every other +sentiment, and which impels us to sacrifice everything to the object +loved. + +"What characters are susceptible of such a sentiment? They are the +most solid, those who show little on the outside, those who unite +reason with an elevated nobility of character in their fashion of +thinking. + +"Finally, who are the men the most reasonable for women of that kind? +It is those who possess just sufficient brilliant qualities to fix a +value on their essential merit. It must be confessed, though, that +such men are not good companions for women who think. It is true, +they are rare at present, and there has never been a period so +favorable as this to guarantee us against great passions, but +misfortune will have it that we meet one of them in the crowd. + +"The moralists pretend that every woman possesses a fund of +sensibility destined to be applied to some object or another. A +sensible woman is not affected by the thousand trifling advantages so +agreeable to men in ordinary women. When she meets an object worthy of +her attention, it is quite natural that she should estimate the value +of it; her affection is measured according to her lights, she can not +go half way. It is these characters that should not be imitated, and +all acquaintance with the men of whom I have just been speaking, +should be avoided if a woman values her peace of mind. Let us create a +character which can procure for us two advantages at one and the same +time: One to guard us from immoderate impressions; the other to ward +off men who cause them. Let us give them an outside which will at +least prevent them from displaying qualities they do not possess. Let +us force them to please us by their frivolity, by their absurdities. +However much they may practice affectation, their visible faults would +furnish us with weapons against them. What happy state can a woman +occupy to procure such safeguards? It is undoubtedly that of a +professional society woman. + +"You are doubtless astonished at the strange conclusion to which my +serious reasoning has led me. You will be still more astonished when +you shall have heard the logic I employ to prove that I am right: +listen to the end. I know the justice of your mind, and I am not +lacking in it, however frivolous I may appear to be, and you will +finish by being of my opinion. + +"Do you believe that the outward appearance of virtue guarantees the +heart against the assaults of love? A poor resource. When a woman +descends to a weakness, is not her humiliation proportionately as +great as the esteem she hoped to secure? The brighter her virtue, the +easier mark for malice. + +"What is the world's idea of a virtuous woman? Are not men so unjust +as to believe that the wisest woman is she who best conceals her +weakness; or who, by a forced retreat puts herself beyond the +possibility of having any? Rather than accord us a single perfection, +they carry wickedness to the point of attributing to us a perpetual +state of violence, every time we undertake to resist their advances. +One of our friends said: 'There is not an honest woman who is not +tired of being so.' And what recompense do they offer us for the cruel +torments to which they have condemned us? Do they raise up an altar to +our heroism? No! The most honest woman, they say, is she who is not +talked about, that is to say, a perfect indifference on the part of a +woman, a general oblivion is the price of our virtue. Must women not +have much of it to preserve it at such a price? Who would not be +tempted to abandon it? But there are grave matters which can not be +overlooked. + +"Dishonor closely follows upon weakness. Old age is dreadful in +itself, what must it not be when it is passed in remorse? I feel the +necessity of avoiding such a misfortune. I calculated at first that I +could not succeed in, doing so, without condemning myself to a life of +austerity, and I had not the courage to undertake it. But it gradually +dawned upon me that the condition of a society woman was alone +competent to reconcile virtue with pleasure. From the smile on your +face, I suspect such an idea appears to be a paradox to you. But it is +more reasonable than you imagine. + +"Tell me this: Is a society woman obliged to have an attachment? Is +she not exempt from tenderness? It is sufficient for her to be amiable +and courteous, everything on the surface. As soon as she becomes +expert in the role she has undertaken, then, the only mistrust the +world has of her is that she has no heart. A fine figure, haughty +airs, caprices, fashionable jargon, fantasies, and fads, that is all +that is required of her. She can be essentially virtuous with +impunity. Does any one presume to make advances? If he meet with +resistance he quickly gives over worrying her, he thinks her heart is +already captured, and he patiently awaits his turn. His perseverance +would be out of place, for she would notify a man who failed to pay +her deference, that it was owing to arrangements made before he +offered himself. In this way a woman is protected by the bad opinion +had of her. + +"I read in your eyes that you are about to say to me: The state of a +professional society woman may injure my reputation, and plunge me +into difficulties I seek to avoid. Is not that your thought? But do +you not know, Monsieur, that the most austere conduct does not guard a +woman from the shafts of malice? The opinion men give of women's +reputation, and the good and wrong ideas they acquire of us are always +equally false. It is prejudice, it is a species of fatality which +governs their judgment, so that our glory depends less upon a real +virtue than upon auspicious circumstances. The hope of filling an +honorable place in their imagination, ought not to be the sole +incentive to the practice of virtue, it should be the desire to have a +good opinion of ourselves, and to be able to say, whatever may be the +opinion of the public: I have nothing with which to reproach myself. +But, what matters it to what we owe our virtue, provided we have it? + +"I was therefore convinced that I could not do better, when I +reappeared in the world, than to don the mask I deemed the most +favorable to my peace of mind and to my glory. I became closely +attached to the friend who aided me with her counsel. She is the +Marquise de ----, a relative. Our sentiments were in perfect accord. +We frequented the same society. Charity for our neighbors was truly +not our favorite virtue. We made our appearance in a social circle as +into a ball room, where we were the only masks. We indulged in all +sorts of follies, we goaded the absurd into showing themselves in +their true character. After having amused ourselves in this comedy, +we had not yet reached the limit of our pleasure, it was renewed in +private interviews. How absolutely idiotic the women appeared to us, +and the men, how vacuous, fatuous, and impertinent! If we found any +who could inspire fear in a woman's heart, that is, esteem, we broke +their heart by our airs, by affecting utter indifference for them, and +by the allurements we heaped upon those who deserved them the least. +By force of our experience, we came near believing, that in order to +be virtuous, it was necessary to frequent bad company. + +"This course of conduct guaranteed us for a long time against the +snares of love, and saved us from the dreadful weariness a sad and +more mournful virtue would have spread over our lives. Frivolous, +imperious, bold, even coquettish if you will, in the presence of men, +but solid, reasonable, and virtuous in our own eyes, we were happy in +this character. We never met a man we were afraid of. Those who might +have been redoubtable, were obliged to make themselves ridiculous +before being permitted to enjoy our society. + +"But what finally led me to doubt the truth of my principles, is they +did not always guard me from the dangers I wished to avoid. I have +learned through my own experience, that love is a traitor with whom it +will not do to trifle. I do not know by what fatality, the Marquis de +Sévigné was able to render my projects futile. In spite of all my +precautions he has found the way to my heart. However much I resisted +him I was impelled to love him, and my reason is of no more use to me +except to justify in my own eyes the inclination I feel for him. I +would be happy if he never gave me an occasion to change my +sentiments. I have been unable to hide from him my true thoughts, I +was afraid at first that he might deem me actually as ridiculous as I +seemed to be. And when my sincerity shall render me less amiable in +his eyes (for I know that frivolity captures men more than real +merit), I wish to show myself to him in my true colors. I should blush +to owe nothing to his heart but a perpetual lie of my whole being." + +"I am still less surprised, Madame," said Monsieur de la Sablière, "at +the novelty of your project, than at the skill with which you have +succeeded in rendering such a singular idea plausible. Permit me to +say, that it is not possible to go astray with more spirit. Have you +experimented with everybody according to your system? Men go a long +way around to avoid the beaten track, but they all fall over the same +obstacles. To make use of the privilege you granted me to tell you +plainly my thought, believe me, Countess, that the only way for you to +preserve your peace of mind is to resume openly your position as a +reasonable woman. There is nothing to be gained by compounding with +virtue." + +When I heard the conversation taking that complexion, I knew it would +soon finish, and I therefore promptly withdrew, and could not think of +anything but satisfying your curiosity. I am tired of writing. In two +days I shall return to Paris. + + + + +XXXII + +The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart + + +Well, Marquis, here I am back again, but the news I bring you may not +be altogether to your liking. You have never had so fine an occasion +to charge women with caprice. I wrote you the last time to tell you +that you were loved, to-day I write just the contrary. + +A strange resolution has been taken against you; tremble, 'tis a thing +settled; the Countess purposes loving you at her ease, and without its +costing her any disturbance of her peace of mind. She has seen the +consequences of a passion similar to yours, and she can not face it +without dismay. She intends, therefore, to arrest its progress. Do not +let the proofs she has given you reassure you. You men imagine that as +soon as a woman has confessed her love she can never more break her +chains; undeceive yourself. The Countess is much more reasonable on +your account than I thought, and I do not hide from you the fact that +a portion of her firmness is due to my advice. You need not rely any +more on my letters, and you do not require any help from them to +understand women. + +I sometimes regret that I have furnished you weapons against my sex, +without them would you ever have been able to touch the heart of the +Countess? I must avow that I have judged women with too much rigor, +and you now see me ready to make them a reparation. I know it now, +there are more stable and essentially virtuous women than I had +thought. + +What a stock of reason! What a combination of all the estimable +qualities in our friend! No, Marquis, I could no longer withhold from +her the sentiment of my most tender esteem, and without consulting +your interests, I have united with her against you. You will murmur at +this, but the confidence she has given me, does it not demand this +return on my part? I will not hide from you any of my wickedness; I +have carried malice to the point of instructing her in the advantages +you might draw from everything I have written you about women. + +"I feel," she said to me, "how redoubtable is a lover who combines +with so much knowledge of the heart, the talent to express himself in +such noble and delicate language. What advantages can he not have of +women who reason? I have remarked it, it is by his powers of reasoning +that he has overcome them. He possesses the art of employing the +intelligence he finds in a woman to justify, in the eyes of his +reason, the errors into which he draws her. Besides, a woman in love +thinks she is obliged to proportion her sacrifices to the good +qualities of the man she loves. To an ordinary man, a weakness is a +weakness, he blushes at it; to a man of intelligence, it is a tribute +paid to his merits, it is even a proof of our discernment; he +eulogizes our good taste and takes the credit of it. It is thus by +turning it to the profit of the vanity which he rescues from virtue, +that this enchanter hides from our eyes the grades of our weakness." + +Such are at present, Marquis, the sentiments of the Countess, and I am +not sure if they leave you much to hope for. I do not ignore the fact +that it might have doubtless been better to carry out the project we +have in view without giving you any information concerning it. That +was our first intention; but could I in conscience secretly work +against you? Would it not have been to betray you? Moreover, by taking +that course, we should have appeared to be afraid of you, and hence we +found courage to put you in possession of all we expect to do to +resist you. + +Come, now, Marquis, our desire to see you really makes us impatient. +Would you know the reason? It is because we expect you without fearing +you. Remember that you have not now a weak loving woman to fight +against, she would be too feeble an adversary, her courage might give +out; it is I, now, it is a woman of cold blood, who fancies herself +interested in saving the reason of her friend from being wrecked. Yes, +I will penetrate to the bottom of your heart; I will read there your +perverse designs; I will forestall them; I will render all the +artifices of your malice innocuous. + +You may accuse me of treason as much as you please, but come to-night, +and I will convince you that my conduct is conformable to the most +exact equity. While your inexperience needed enlightenment, +assistance, encouragement, my zeal in your cause urged me to sacrifice +everything in your interests. Every advantage was then on the side of +the Countess. But now there is a different face on things; all her +pride to-day, is barely strong enough to resist you. Formerly, her +indifference was in her favor, and, what was worth still more, your +lack of skill; to-day you have the experience, and she has her reason +the less. + +After that, to combine with you against her, to betray the confidence +she reposes in me, to refuse her the succor she has the right to +expect from me, if you are sincere, you will avow it yourself, would +be a crying wrong. Henceforth, I purpose to repair the evil I have +done in revealing our secrets, by initiating you into our mysteries. I +do not know why, but the pleasure I feel in crossing you, appears to +be working in my favor, and you know how far my rights oven you +extend. My sentiments will always be the same, and, on your part +without doubt, you are too equitable to diminish your esteem for me, +because of anything I may have done in favor of a friend. + +By and by, then, at the Countess'. + + + + +XXXIII + +A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with Love + + +What, Marquis, afraid of two women? You already despair of your +affairs, because they oppose your success, and you are ready to +abandon the game? Dear me, I thought you had more courage. It is true +that the firmness of the Countess astonishes even me, but I do not +understand how she could hold out against your ardor for an entire +evening. I never saw you so seductive, and she has just confessed to +me that you were never so redoubtable. Now I can respond for her, +since her courage did not fail her on an occasion of so much peril. I +saw still farther, and I judge from her well sustained ironical +conversation, that she is only moderately smitten. A woman really +wounded by the shaft of love would not have played with sentiment in +such a flippant manner. + +This gives birth to a strange idea. It would be very delightful, if in +a joking way, we should discover that your tender Adelaide does not +love you up to a certain point. What a blow that would be to your +vanity! But you would quickly seek revenge. You might certainly find +beauties ready to console you for your loss. How often has vexation +made you say: "What is a woman's heart? Can any one give me a +definition of it?" + +However, do you know that I am tempted to find fault with you, and if +you take this too much to heart, I do not know what I would not do to +soften the situation. But I know you are strong minded. Your first +feelings of displeasure past, you will soon see that the best thing +you can do is to come down to the quality of friend, a position which +we have so generously offered you. You ought to consider yourself very +fortunate, your dismissal might be made absolute. But do not make this +out to be much of a victory, you will be more harshly treated if we +consider you more to be feared. + +Adieu, Marquis. The Countess, who is sitting at the head of my bed, +sends you a thousand tender things. She is edified by the discretion +with which you have treated us; not to insist when two ladies seem to +be so contrary to you, that is the height of gallantry. So much +modesty will certainly disarm them, and may some day move them to +pity. Hope, that is permitted you. + + +From the Countess. + +Although you may be inspired by the most flattering hopes, Marquis, I +will add a few words to this letter. I have not read it, but I suspect +that it refers to me. I wish, however, to write you with my own hand +that we shall be alone here all day. I wish to tell you that I love +you moderately well at present, but that I have the greatest desire +in the world not to love you at all. However, if you deem it advisable +to come and trouble our little party, it gives me pleasure to warn you +that your heart will be exposed to the greatest danger. I am told that +I am handsomer to-day than you have ever found me to be, and I never +felt more in the humor to treat you badly. + + + + +XXXIV + +Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder + + +All this, Marquis, begins to pass the bounds of pleasantry. Explain +yourself, I pray you. Did you pretend to speak seriously in your +letter, in making it understood that I was acting on this occasion +through jealousy, and that I was trying to separate you and the +Countess to profit by it myself? + +You are either the wickedest of men or the most adroit; the wickedest +if you ever could suspect me guilty of such baseness; the most adroit, +if you have thrown out that idea to make my friend suspect me. I see +very clearly in all this, that the alternative is equally injurious to +me, since the Countess has taken the matter to heart. I find that my +relations with her are very embarrassing. Criminal that you are, how +well you know your ascendency over her heart! You could not better +attack her than by the appearance of indifference you affect. Not +deign to answer my last letter, not come to the rendezvous given you, +remain away from us three days, and after all that, to write us the +coldest letter possible, oh, I confess it frankly, that is to act like +a perfect man; that is what I call a master stroke, and the most +complete success has responded to your hope. The Countess has not +been able to stand against so much coolness. The fear that this +indifference may become real has caused her a mortal anxiety. + +Great Heavens! What is the most reasonable woman when love has turned +her head? Why were you not the witness of the reproaches I have just +heard? How is that? To hear the Countess to-day, gave me an injurious +opinion of her virtue, a false idea of your pretensions, and I +considered your designs criminal because you took so much pleasure in +punishing her. + +I am hard, unjust, cruel, I can not remember all the epithets with +which I was covered. What outbursts! Oh, I protest to you, this will +be the last storm I will undergo for being mixed up in your affairs, +and I very cordially renounce the confidence with which you have both +honored me. Advisers do not play a very agreeable part in such cases, +so it seems to me, always charged with what is disagreeable in +quarrels, and the lovers only profit by a reconciliation. + +However, after due reflection, I think I should be very silly to take +offence at this. You are two children whose follies will amuse me, I +ought to look upon them with the eye of a philosopher, and finish by +being the friend of both. Come then, at once, and assure me if that +resolution will suit you. Now, do not play the petty cruel role any +more. Come and make peace. These poor children; one of them has such +innocent motives, the other is so sure of her virtue, that to stand in +the way of their inclination, is surely to afflict them without +reason. + + + + +XXXV + +The Heart Should be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano + + +I am beginning to understand, Marquis, that the only way to live with +the most reasonable woman, is never to meddle with her heart affairs. +I have, therefore, made up my mind. Henceforward I shall never mention +your name to the Countess unless she insists upon my doing so; I do +not like bickerings. + +But this resolution will change nothing of my sentiments for you, nor +my friendship for her. And, although I still stand her friend, I shall +not scruple to make use of my friendship, so far as you are concerned, +as I have in the past I shall continue, since you so wish it, to give +you my ideas on the situations in which you may become involved, on +condition, however, that you permit me sometimes to laugh at your +expense, a liberty I shall not take to-day, because if the Countess +follows up the plan she has formed, that is, if she persists in +refusing to see you alone, I do not see that your affairs will advance +very rapidly. She remembers what I told her, she knows her heart, and +has reason to fear it. + +It is only an imprudent woman who relies upon her own strength, and +exposes herself without anxiety to the advances of the man she loves. +The agitation which animates him, the fire with which his whole person +appears to be burning, excites our senses, fires our imagination, +appeals to our desires. I said to the Countess one day: "We resemble +your clavecin; however well disposed it may be to respond to the hand +which should play upon it, until it feels the impression of that hand, +it remains silent; touch its keys, and sounds are heard." Finish the +parallel, and draw your conclusions. + +But after all, why should you complain, Monsieur, the metaphysician? +To see the Countess, hear the soft tones of her voice, render her +little attentions, carry the delicacy of sentiment beyond the range of +mortal vision, feel edified at her discourses on virtue, are not these +supreme felicity for you? Leave for earthy souls the gross sentiments +which are beginning to develop in you. To look at you to-day, it might +be said that I was not so far out of the way when I declared love to +be the work of the senses. Your own experience will compel you to avow +that I had some good reason for saying so, for which I am not at all +sorry. Consider yourself punished for your injustice. Adieu. + +Your old rival, the Chevalier, has revenged himself for the rigors of +the Countess, by tying himself up with the Marquise, her relative. +This choice is assuredly a eulogy on his good taste, they are made for +each other. I shall be very much charmed to know whither their fine +passion will lead them. + + + + +XXXVI + +Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women + + +Do you think, Marquis, that I have not felt all the sarcasm you have +deigned to turn against me on account of my pretended reconciliation +with the Countess? Know this, sir, that we have never been at outs. + +It is true, she begged me to forget her vivacity, which she claimed +was due to her love, and she insisted that I should continue to give +her good counsel. But Good Heavens! Of what use are my counsels except +to provide you with an additional triumph? The best advice I can give +her is to break off her relations with you, for whatever confidence +she may have in her pride, her only preservative against you is +flight. She believes, for example, that she used her reason with good +effect in the conversation you have related to me. But every +reasonable woman does not fail to use the same language as soon as a +lover shows her some respectful pretensions. + +"I only want your heart," they say, "your sentiments, your esteem is +all I desire. Alas! you will find only too many women with so little +delicacy as to believe themselves very happy in accepting what I +refuse. I will never envy them a happiness of that kind." + +Be on your guard, Marquis, and do not openly combat such fine +sentiments; to doubt a woman's sincerity on such occasions, is to do +more than offend them, it is to be maladroit. You must applaud their +mistaken idea if you would profit by it. They wish to appear +high-minded, and sensible only of the pleasures of the soul, it is +their system, their esprit du corps. If some women are in good faith +on this point, how many are there who treat it as an illusion and wish +to impose it upon you? + +But whatever may be the reason which impels them to put you on a false +scent, ought you not to be delighted that they are willing to take the +trouble to deceive you? What obligations are you not under? They give +in this manner, a high value to those who, without it, would be very +undesirable. Admire our strategy when we feign indifference to what +you call the pleasures of love, pretending even to be far removed from +its sweetness, we augment the grandeur of the sacrifice we make for +you, by it, we even inspire the gratitude of the authors of the very +benefits we receive from them, you are satisfied with the good you do +us. + +And since it was said that we make it a duty to deceive you, what +obligation do you not owe us? We have chosen the most obliging way to +do it. You are the first to gain by this deceit, for we can not +multiply obstacles without enhancing the price of your victory. +Troubles, cares, are not these the money with which lovers pay for +their pleasures? What a satisfaction for your vanity to be able to +say within yourselves: "This woman, so refined, so insensible to the +impressions of the senses; this woman who fears disdain so much, comes +to me, nevertheless, and sacrifices her repugnance, her fears, her +pride? My own merit, the charms of my person, my skill, have +surmounted invincible objects for something quite different. How +satisfied I am with my prowess!" + +If women acted in good faith, if they were in as much haste to show +you their desires as you are to penetrate them, you could not talk +that way. How many pleasures lost! But you can not impute wrong to +this artifice, it gives birth to so many advantages. Pretend to be +deceived, and it will become a pleasure to you. + +If the Countess knew what I have written, how she would reproach me! + + + + +XXXVII + +The Allurements of Stage Women + + +I know too well that a man in your position, particularly a military +man, is often exposed to bad company, consequently, he is attracted by +the divinities you mention. In spite of that you are not deceived, and +I would probably censure you, if I were not so sure, that, in the +present state of your heart, the heroines of the theater are not +dangerous to you. But the Countess is less indulgent, you say. Her +jealousy does not astonish me, she confirms my ideas concerning female +metaphysicians. I know how much credit is due their sincerity. Her +complaints are very singular, for, what is she deprived of? The women +in question are nothing but women of sentiment, and it is to sentiment +that the Countess is attached. + +How little women are in accord! They pretend to despise women of the +stage; they fear them too much to despise them. But after all, are +they wrong to consider them rivals? Are you not more captivated with +their free and easy style, than with that of a sensible woman who has +nothing to offer but order, decency, and uniformity? With the former, +men are at their ease, they appear to be in their element; with the +latter, men are kept within bounds, obliged to stand on their +dignity, and to be very circumspect. From the portrait of several of +them, I should judge that there are some of them very capable of +making many men unfaithful to the most beloved mistress. But with a +sensible man, this infidelity, if it be one, can not be of long +duration. These women may create a sudden, lively desire, but never a +veritable passion. + +The fairies of the operatic stage would be too dangerous, if they had +the wit or the humor always to amuse you as much as they do the first +time you are thrown on their company. However little jargon, habits, +and decency they have on the surface, it is possible that they may +please you at first. You men have so little refinement sometimes! The +freedom of their conversation, the vivacity of their sallies of +alleged wit, their giddy ways, all this affords you a situation that +charms; a lively and silly joy seizes upon you, the hours you pass +with them seem to be only moments. But happily for you, they seldom +possess sufficient resources to maintain a role so amusing. Inasmuch +as they lack education and culture, they soon travel around the small +circle of their accomplishments. They feed you with the same +pleasantries, the same stories, the same antics, and it is seldom one +laughs twice at the same thing when one has no esteem for the fun +maker. + +The Countess need not worry, for I know you well enough to assure her +that it is not that class of women she may apprehend, there are in the +world, others more redoubtable, they are the "gallant women," those +equivocal women in society. They occupy a middle position between good +women and those I have been talking about; they associate with the +former and are not different from the latter except on the surface. +More voluptuous than tender, they seduce by lending to the least +refined sentiments an air of passion which is mistaken for love. They +understand how to convey an impression of tenderness to what is only a +taste for pleasure. They make you believe that it is by choice, by a +knowledge of your merit that they yield. If you do not know them to be +gallant women, the shade of difference which distinguishes the true +motives which actuates them, from the sensibility of the heart, is +impossible to seize. You accept for excess of passion what is only an +intoxication of the senses. You imagine you are loved because you are +lovable, but it is only because you are a man. + +These are the women I should fear if I were in the place of the +Countess. The financial woman who has lately appeared in society +belongs to this class, but I have already warned the Countess. + +I call to mind, here, that in your preceding letter, you mentioned the +allurements which the Countess thought proper to manifest? She was +right in taking umbrage. Your passion for her is truly too great to +prevent you from sacrificing everything, but I fear you will not +always be so honest. + +Madame de ---- possesses bloom and cheerfulness; she is at an age when +women assume charge of young men who desire to be fitted for society, +and to learn their first lessons in gallantry. The interesting and +affectionate disposition you find in her will have its effect, but be +careful, it is I who warn you. Although I despise such women, it +happens that they have the power to create attachments; they often +find the secret of making you commit more follies than any of the +other women. + + + + +XXXVIII + +Varieties of Resistance are Essential + + +I hasten to tell you, Marquis, that I have just maintained a thesis +against Monsieur de la Bruyère. No doubt you admire my temerity? +However it is true. He pretends that Corneille described men as they +should be, and Racine as they are; I held the contrary. We had some +illustrious spectators of the dispute, and I ought to be very proud of +the suffrages in my favor. + +But all the details would be too long to write you, so come and we +will talk them over. Every one has his own fashion of describing +things, I have mine, I know. I represent women as they are, and I am +very sorry not to be able to represent them as they should be. Now I +shall reply to your letter. + +The species of languor which affects you does not surprise me. The +malady which afflicts the Marquise has deprived you of the pleasure of +seeing the Countess, and your heart remaining in the same condition +for three days, it is not surprising that ennui should have gained +upon it. Neither does your present indifference for the Countess alarm +me. In the greatest passions there are always moments of lukewarmness, +which astonish the hearts that feel the sensation. Whether the heart, +constantly agitated by the same emotions, finally tires, or whether it +is absolutely impossible for it to be always employed with the same +object, there are moments of indifference, the cause of which can not +be ascertained. The livelier the emotions of the heart, the more +profound the calm that is sure to follow, and it is this calm that is +always more fateful to the object loved than storm and agitation. Love +is extinguished by a resistance too severe or constant. But an +intelligent woman goes beyond that, she varies her manner of +resisting; this is the sublimity of the art. + +Now, with the Countess, the duties of friendship are preferable to the +claims of love, and that is another reason for your indifference +toward her. Love is a jealous and tyrannical sentiment, which is never +satiated until the object loved has sacrificed upon its altar all +desires and passions. You do nothing for it unless you do everything. +Whenever you prefer duty, friendship, etc., it claims the right to +complain. It demands revenge. The small courtesies you deemed it +necessary to show Madame de ---- are proofs of it. I would have much +preferred, though, you had not carried them so far as accompanying her +home. The length of time you passed in her company, the pleasure you +experienced in conversing with her, the questions she put to you on +the state of your heart, all goes to prove the truth of what I said in +my last letter. It is vain for you to protest that you came away more +amorous than ever of the Countess, your embarrassment when she +inquired whether you had remained long with your "fermière générale," +the attempt you made to deceive her by an evasive answer, the extreme +care you took to disarm her slightest suspicion, are indications to me +that you are far more guilty than you pretend, or than you are aware +of yourself. + +The Countess suffers the consequences of all that. Do you not see how +she affects to rouse your jealousy by praising the Chevalier, your +ancient rival? For once, I can assure you that you will not so soon be +affected by the languors we mentioned a short time ago. Jealousy will +give you something to think about. Do you count for nothing, the +sufferings of the Marquise? You will soon see her, the ravages of the +smallpox will not alone disfigure her face, for her disposition will +be very different, as soon as she learns the extent of her misfortune. +How I pity her; how I pity other women! With what cordiality she will +hate them and tear them to tatters! The Countess is her best friend, +will she be so very long? She is so handsome, her complexion casts the +others in the shade. What storms I foresee! + +I had forgotten to quarrel with you about your treatment of me. You +have been so indiscreet as to show my recent letters to M. de la +Rochefoucauld. I will cease writing you if you continue to divulge my +secret. I am willing to talk personally with him about my ideas, but I +am far from flattering myself that I write well enough to withstand +the criticism of a reader like him. + + + + +XXXIX + +The True Value of Compliments Among Women + + +The marks left by the smallpox on the Marquise's face have set her +wild. Her resolution not to show herself for a long time does not +surprise me. How could she appear in public in such a state? If the +accident which humiliates her had not happened, how she would have +made the poor Chevalier suffer! Does not this prove that female virtue +depends upon circumstances, and diminishes with pride? + +How I fear a similar example in the case of the Countess! Nothing is +more dangerous for a woman than the weaknesses of her friend; love, +already too seductive in itself, becomes more so through the contagion +of example, if I may so speak; it is not only in our heart that it +gathers strength; it acquires new weapons against reason from its +environment. A woman who has fallen under its ban, deems herself +interested, for her own justification, in conducting her friend to the +edge of the same precipice, and I am not, therefore, surprised at what +the Marquise says in your favor. Up to the present moment they have +been guided by the same principles; what a shame, then, for her, that +the Countess could not have been guaranteed against the effects of it! +Now, the Marquise has a strong reason the more for contributing to +the defeat of her friend; she has become positively ugly, and +consequently obliged to be more complaisant in retaining a lover. Will +she suffer another woman to keep hers at a less cost? That would be to +recognize too humiliating a superiority, and I can assure you that she +will do the most singular things to bring her amiable widower up to +the point. + +If she succeed, how much I fear everything will be changed! To have +been as beautiful as another woman, and to be so no longer, although +she embellishes herself every day, and to suffer her presence every +day, is, I vow, an effort beyond the strength of the most reasonable +woman, greater than the most determined philosophy. Among women +friendship ceases where rivalry begins. By rivalry, I mean that of +beauty only, it would be too much to add that of sentiment. + +I foresee this with regret, but it is my duty to forewarn you. +Whatever precautions the Countess may take to control the amour propre +of the Marquise, she will never make anything else out of her than an +ingrate. I do not know by what fatality, everything a beautiful woman +tells one who is no longer beautiful, assumes in the mouth, an +impression of a commiseration which breaks down the most carefully +devised management, and humiliates her whom it is thought to console. +The more a woman strives to efface the superiority she possesses over +an unfortunate sister woman, the more she makes that superiority +apparent, until the latter reaches the opinion that it is only +through generosity that she is permitted to occupy the subordinate +position left her. + +You may depend upon it, Marquis, that women are never misled when it +comes to mutual praise; they fully appreciate the eulogies +interchanged among themselves; and as they speak without sincerity, so +they listen with little gratitude. And although she who speaks, in +praising the beauty of another, may do so in good faith, she who +listens to the eulogy, considers less what the other says than her +style of beauty. Is she ugly? We believe and love her, but if she be +as handsome as we, we thank her coldly and disdain her; handsomer, we +hate her more than before she spoke. + +You must understand this, Marquis, that as much as two beautiful women +may have something between them to explain, it is impossible for them +to form a solid friendship. Can two merchants who have the same goods +to sell become good neighbors? Men do not penetrate the true cause of +the lack of cordiality among women. Those who are the most intimate +friends often quarrel over nothing, but do you suppose this "nothing" +is the real occasion of their quarrel? It is only the pretext. We hide +the motive of our actions when to reveal it would be a humiliation. We +do not care to make public the fact that it is jealousy for the beauty +of our friend that is the real cause, to give that as the reason for +estrangement would be to charge us with envy, a pleasure one woman +will not give another; she prefers injustice. Whenever it happens +that two beautiful women are so happy as to find a pretext to get rid +of each other, they seize upon it with vivacity, and hate each other +with a cordiality which proves how much they loved each other before +the rupture. + +Well, Marquis, am I talking to you with sufficient frankness? You see +to what lengths my sincerity goes. I try to give you just ideas of +everything, even at my own expense, for I am assuredly not more exempt +than another woman from the faults I sometimes criticise. But as I am +sure that what passes between us will be buried in oblivion, I do not +fear embroiling myself in a quarrel with all my sex, they might, +perhaps, claim the right to blame my ingenuity. + +But the Countess is above all such petty things, she agrees, however, +with everything I have just said. Are there many women like her? + + + + +XL + +Oratory and Fine Phrases do Not Breed Love + + +The example of the Marquise has not yet had any effect on the heart of +her friend. It appears, on the contrary, that she is more on guard +against you, and that you have drawn upon yourself her reproaches +through some slight favor you have deprived her of. + +I have been thinking that she would not fail on this occasion to +recall to your recollection, the protestations of respect and +disinterestedness you made when you declared your passion for her. It +is customary in similar cases. But what seems strange about it is, +that the same eagerness that a woman accepts as a proof of disrespect, +before she is in perfect accord with her lover, becomes, in her +imagination, a proof of love and esteem, as soon as they meet on a +common ground. + +Listen to married women, and to all those who, being unmarried, permit +the same prerogatives; hear them, I say, in their secret complaints +against unfaithful husbands and cooling lovers. They are despised, and +that is the sole reason they can imagine. But with us, what they +consider a mark of esteem and sincerity, is it anything else than the +contrary? I told you some time ago, that women themselves, when they +are acting in good faith, go farther than men in making love consist +in an effervescence of the blood. Study a lover at the commencement of +her passion: with her, then, love is purely a metaphysical sentiment, +with which the senses have not the least relation. Similar to those +philosophers who, in the midst of grievous torments would not confess +that they were suffering pain, she is a martyr to her own system; but, +at last, while combatting this chimera, the poor thing becomes +affected by a change; her lover vainly repeats that love is a divine, +metaphysical sentiment, that it lives on fine phrases, on spiritual +discourses, that it would be degrading to mingle with it anything +material and human; he vainly, boasts of his respect and refinement. I +tell you, Marquis, on the part of all women, that such an orator will +never make his fortune. His respect will be taken as an insult, his +refinement for derision, and his fine discourses for ridiculous +pretexts. All the grace that will be accorded him, is that she will +find a pretext to quarrel with him because he has been less refined +with some other woman, and that he will be put to the sorrowful +necessity of displaying his high flown sentiments to his titular +mistress, and what is admirable about this is, that the excuse for it +arises out of the same principle. + +P.S.--You have so much deference for my demands! You not only show my +letters to M. de la Rochefoucauld, but you read them before the whole +assembly of my friends. It is true that the indulgence with which my +friends judge them, consoles me somewhat for your indiscretion, and I +see very well that the best thing for me to do is to continue on in my +own way as I have in the past. But, at least, be discreet when I +mention matters relating to the glory of the Countess; otherwise, no +letters. + + + + +XLI + +Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor + + +No, Marquis, I can not pardon in you the species of fury with which +you desire what you are pleased to call the "supreme happiness." How +blind you are, not to know that when you are sure of a woman's heart, +it is in your interests to enjoy her defeat a long time before it +becomes entire. Will you never understand, that of all there is good +on earth, it is the sweetness of love that must be used with the +greatest economy? + +If I were a man and were so fortunate as to have captured the heart of +a woman like the Countess, with what discretion I would use my +advantages? How many gradations there would be in the law I should +impose upon myself to overlook them successively and even leisurely? +Of how many amiable pleasures, unknown to men, would not I be the +creator? Like a miser, I would contemplate my treasure unceasingly, +learn its precious value, feel that in it consisted all my felicity, +base all my happiness upon the possession of it, reflect that it is +all mine, that I may dispose of it and yet maintain my resolution not +to deprive myself of its use. + +What a satisfaction to read in the eyes of an adorable woman the power +you have over her; to see her slightest acts give birth to an +impression of tenderness, whenever they relate to you; to hear her +voice soften when it is to you or of you she speaks; to enjoy her +confusion at your slightest eagerness, her anxiety at your most +innocent caresses? Is there a more delicious condition than that of a +lover who is sure of being loved, and can there be any sweeter than at +such moments? What a charm for a lover to be expected with an +impatience that is not concealed; to be received with an eagerness all +the more flattering from the effort made to hide the half of it? + +She dresses in a fashion to please; she assumes the deportment, the +style, the pose that may flatter her lover the most. In former times +women dressed to please in general, now their entire toilette is to +please men; for his sake she wears bangles, jewelry, ribbons, +bracelets, rings. He is the object of it all, the woman is transformed +into the man; it is he she loves in her own person. Can you find +anything in love more enchanting than the resistance of a woman who +implores you not to take advantage of her weakness? Is there anything, +in a word, more seductive than a voice almost stifled with emotion, +than a refusal for which she reproaches herself, and, the rigor of +which she attempts to soften by tender looks, before a complaint is +made? I can not conceive any. + +But it is certain that as soon as she yields to your eagerness, all +these pleasures weaken in proportion to the facility met. You alone +may prolong them, even increase them, by taking the time to know all +the sweetness and its taste. However, you are not satisfied unless +the possession, be entire, easy, and continuous. And after that, you +are surprised to find indifference, coolness, and inconstancy in your +heart. Have you not done everything to satiate your passion for the +beloved object? I have always contended that love never dies from +desire but often from indigestion, and I will sometime tell you in +confidence my feelings for Count ----. You will understand from that +how to manage a passion to render happiness enduring; you will see +whether I know the human heart and true felicity; you will learn from +my example that the economy of the sentiments is, in the question of +love, the only reasonable metaphysics. In fine, you will know how +little you understand your true interests in your conduct toward the +Countess. To interfere with your projects, I shall be with her as +often as it is possible. Now, do not be formal, and tell me that I am +an advocate on both sides; for I am persuaded that I am acting for the +good of the parties interested. + + + + +XLII + +Surface Indications in Women are Not Always Guides + + +What, I censure you, Marquis? I will take good care not to do so, I +assure you. You have not been willing to follow my advice, and hence, +I am not at all sorry for having ill-used you. You thought you had +nothing to do but to treat the Countess roughly. Her easy fashion of +treating love, her accessibility, her indulgence for your numerous +faults, the freedom with which she mocks the Platonicians, all this +encouraged you to hope that she was not very severe, but you have just +discovered your mistake. All this outward show was nothing but +deceitful and perfidious allurements. To take advantage thus of the +good faith of any one--I must confess that it is a conduct which cries +for vengeance; she deserves all the names you give her. + +But do you wish me to talk to you with my customary frankness? You +have fallen into an error which is common among men. They judge women +from the surface. They imagine that a woman whose virtue is not always +on the qui vive, will be easier to overcome than a prude; even +experience does not undeceive them. How often are they exposed to a +severity all the keener that it was unexpected? Their custom then, is +to accuse women of caprice and oddity; all of you use the same +language, and say: Why such equivocal conduct? When a woman has +decided to remain intractable, why surprise the credulity of a lover? +Why not possess an exterior conformable to her sentiments? In a word, +why permit a man to love her, when she does not care ever to see him +again? Is this not being odd and false? Is it not trifling with +sentiment? + +You are in error, gentlemen, you are imposing upon your vanity, it is +in vain you try to put us on a false scent, that, of itself, is +offensive, and you talk of sentiment as ennobling a thing that +resembles it very little. Are not you, yourselves, to blame if we +treat you thus? However little intelligence a woman may have, she +knows that the strongest tie to bind you to her is anticipation, +wherefore, you must let her lay the blame on you. If she were to arm +herself from the first with a severity that would indicate that she is +invincible, from that time, no lovers for her. What a solitude would +be hers, what shame even? For a woman of the most pronounced virtue is +no less sensible of the desire to please, she makes her glory consist +in securing homage and adoration. But without ignoring the fact that +those she expects attention from are induced to bestow them only for +reasons that wound her pride; unable to reform this defect, the only +part she can take is to use it to her advantage to keep them by her +side; she knows how to keep them, and not destroy the very hopes +which, however, she is determined never to gratify. With care and +skill she succeeds. Hence, as soon as a woman understands her real +interests she does not fail to say to herself what the Countess +confessed to me at our last interview: + +"I can well appreciate the 'I love you' of the men; I do not disguise +the fact that I know what it signifies at bottom, therefore upon me +rests the burden of being offended at hearing them; but when women +have penetrated their motives, they have need of their vanity to +disconcert their designs. Our anger, when they have offended us, is +not the best weapon to use in opposing them. Whoever must go outside +herself and become angry to resist them, exposes her weakness. A fine +irony, a piquant raillery, a humiliating coolness, these are what +discourage them. Never a quarrel with them, consequently no +reconciliation. What advantages does not this mode of procedure take +from them! + +"The prude, it is true, follows a quite different method. If she is +exposed to the least danger, she does not imagine herself to be +reasonable but in proportion to the resentment she experiences; but +upon whom does such conduct impose? Every man who knows the cards, +says to himself: 'I am ill used because the opportunity is +unfavorable. It is my awkwardness that is punished and not my +temerity. Another time, that will be well received which is a crime +to-day; this severity is a notice to redouble my effort, to merit more +indulgence and disarm pride; she wishes to be appeased.' And the only +means in such case to make her forget the offense is, that in making +an apology to repeat it a second time. With my recipe, I am certain +that a man will never reason that way. + +"The Marquis, for example, has sometimes permitted me to read in his +eyes his respectful intentions. I never knew but one way to punish +him; I have feigned not to understand him; insensibly, I have diverted +his mind to other objects. And this recipe has worked well up to the +moment I last saw him at my house. There was no way to dissimulate +with him; he wished to honor me with some familiarities, and I stopped +him immediately, but not in anger. I deemed it more prudent to arm +myself with reason than with anger. I appeared to be more afflicted +than irritated, and I am sure my grief touched his heart more than +bitter reproaches which might have alarmed him. He went away very much +dissatisfied; and just see what the heart is: at first, I was afraid I +had driven him away forever, I was tempted to reproach myself for my +cruelty, but, upon reflection, I felt reassured. Has severity ever +produced inconstancy?" + +To go on: We talked until we were out of breath, and everything the +Countess told me gave me to understand that she had made up her mind. +It will be in vain for you to cry out against her injustice, consider +her as odd and inhuman, she will not accept any of the sweetness of +love unless it costs her pride nothing, and I observe that she is +following that resolution with more firmness than I imagined her +capable of. The loss of your heart would undoubtedly be a misfortune +for which she could never be consoled. But, on the other hand, the +conditions you place upon your perseverance appear too hard to be +accepted; she is willing to compromise with you. She hopes to be able +to hold you without betraying her duty, a project worthy of her +courage, and I hope it will succeed better than the plan she had +formed to guarantee her heart against love. Let us await the outcome. + +Shall we see you to-morrow at Madame la Presidente's? If you should +desire to have an occasion to speak to her, I do not doubt that you +will make your peace. + + + + +XLIII + +Women Demand Respect + + +I should never have expected it, Marquis. What! My zeal in your behalf +has drawn your reproaches down upon me? I share with the Countess the +bad humor her severity has caused! you. Do you know? If what you say +were well founded, nothing could be more piquant for me than the +ironical tone in which you laud my principles. But to render me +responsible for your success, as you attempt, have you dared think for +an instant that my object in writing you, was ever for the purpose of +giving you lessons in seduction? Do you not perceive any difference in +teaching you to please, and exciting you toward seduction? I have told +you the motives which incline women to love, it is true, but have I +ever said that they were easier to vanquish? Have I ever told you to +attack them by sensuality, and that in attacking them to suppose them +without delicacy? I do not believe it. + +When your inexperience and your timidity might cause you to play the +role of a ridiculous personage among women, I explained the harm these +defects might cause you in the world. I advised you to have more +confidence, in order to lead you insensibly in the direction of that +noble and respectful boldness you should have when with women. But as +soon as I saw that your pretensions were going too far, and that they +might wound the reputation of the Countess, I did not dissimulate, I +took sides against you, and nothing was more reasonable, I had become +her friend. You see, then, how unjust you are in my regard, and you +are no less so in regard to her. You treat her as if she were an +equivocal character. According to your idea, she has neither decided +for nor against gallantry, and what you clearly see in her conduct is, +that she is a more logical coquette than other women. What an opinion! + +But there is much to pardon in your situation. However, a man without +prejudice, would see in the Countess only a lover as reasonable as she +is tender; a woman who, without having an ostentatious virtue, +nevertheless remains constantly attached to it; a woman, in a word, +who seeks in good faith the proper means of reconciling love and duty. +The difficulty in allying these two contraries is not slight, and it +is the source of the inequalities that wound you. Figure to yourself +the combats she must sustain, the revolutions she suffers, her +embarrassment in endeavoring to preserve a lover whom too uniform a +resistance might repel. If she were sure of keeping you by resisting +your advances; but you carry your odd conduct to the extent of leaving +her when her resistance is too prolonged. While praising our virtue, +you abandon us, and then, what shame for us! But since in both cases +it is not certain that her lover will be held, it is preferable to +accept the inconvenient rather than cause you to lose her heart and +her esteem. + +That is our advice, for the Countess and I think precisely alike on +the subject. Be more equitable, Marquis; complain of her rather than +criticise her. If her character were more decided, perhaps you would +be better satisfied with her; but, even in that case would you be +satisfied very long? I doubt it. + +Adieu. We count on seeing you this evening at Madame de La Fayette's, +and that you will prove more reasonable. The Abbé Gedoyn will be +presented me. The assembly will be brilliant, but you will doubtless +be bored, for you will not see the only object that can attract you, +and you will say of my apartment, what Malherbe so well says of the +garden of the Louvre: + +"Mais quoi que vous ayez, vous n'avez point Caliste, +Et moi je ne vois rien, quand je ne la vois pas." + +(Whatever you may have Caliste you have not got, +And I, I can see nothing when I see her not.) + + + + +XLIV + +Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's Opinion + + +A calm has succeeded the storm, Marquis, and I see by your letter that +you are more satisfied with the Countess and with yourself. How +powerful logic is coming from the mouth of a woman we adore! You see +how the conduct of our friend has produced an opposite effect from +that of the Marquise; the severity of the former increasing your +esteem and love for her and the kindness of the Marquise making an +unfaithful lover out of the Chevalier. So it generally happens among +men, ingratitude is commonly the price of benefits. This misfortune, +however, is not always beyond the reach of remedies, and in this +connection I wish to give you the contents of a letter I received from +Monsieur de Saint-Evremond a few days ago. You are not ignorant of the +intimate relations that have always existed between us. + +The young Count de ---- had just espoused Mademoiselle ----, of whom +he was passionately amorous. He complained one day to me that hymen +and the possession of the beloved object weakened every day, and often +destroyed the most tender love. We discussed the subject for a long +time, and as I happened to write to Saint-Evremond that day, I +submitted the question to him. This is his reply: + + +SAINT-EVREMOND TO MADEMOISELLE DE L'ENCLOS. + +My opinion is exactly in line with yours, Mademoiselle; it is not +always, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved object +which, of itself, destroys love, the true source of the +dissatisfaction that follows love is in the unintelligent manner of +economizing the sentiments, a possession too easy, complete, and +prolonged. + +When we have yielded to the transports of a passion without reserve, +the tremendous shock to the soul can not fail quickly to leave it in a +profound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms and +chills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calm +which follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equal +and more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. +Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desire +anything. You will find that your desires are nothing but curiosity, +and this curiosity, which is one of the forces of the heart, +satisfied, our desires vanish. Whoever, therefore, would hold a spouse +or a lover, should leave him something to be desired, something new +should be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, +procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I will +vouch for his perseverance in fidelity. + +I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat," is, in +an ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon the +lover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the cooling +of the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is due +to her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expended +in a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination she +had excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of her +lover, she becomes always the same statue; no variety to be hoped for, +and her lover knows it well. + +But in the woman I have in mind, it is the aurora of a lovelier day; +it is the beginning of the most satisfying pleasures. I understand by +effusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, +those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us the +certainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all the +esteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch when a +man of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which have always +been hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires who brings into +play all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; her +heart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far from +leading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. + +But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able to +control her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough +(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love with +prudence, with restraint, and modesty is for that reason the most +ingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to the +impetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in the +object loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That is +not love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover into +a spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve and +economy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, the +heart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. +If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will be +nothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive in +a lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, will +experience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity of +separating. + +To sum up; there is more intelligence required to love than is +generally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of the +fatal "yes," or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a woman +does not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, +desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches the +summit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care to +retain him, as he exhibited in overcoming her; the desire to keep him +should render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to a +high position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficient to +make a man amorous; to render him constant, something more is +necessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal of +intelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and fickleness. +Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become too +tender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good, if +they were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. I +maintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving the +heart something to wish for, and the time to consider. + +I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is always +the fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling the +time when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by their +side. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still in +their power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which is +so dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they will +not be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shall +become more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing new +difficulties, arousing our anxieties, in fine, forcing us to desire +new proofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes its +value in our estimation. They will then find less cause of complaint +in us, and will be better satisfied with themselves. + +Shall I frankly avow it? Things would indeed change, if women would +remember at the right time that their role is always that of the party +to be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors; that, +created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in an +excess of passion, they should guard against surrendering at +discretion; the lover should always have something to ask, and +consequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favors +without limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, +revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on the +same level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat, are +indistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority; +but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing further to +do than to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper and +faithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be the +foundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; but +these qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offset +by a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bring +on languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constituted +heart. + +Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoying +prosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so much +pleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identically +erroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, the +other fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessary +consequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglects +to be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by the +practice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, and +henceforward, no more seasoning in their relations; no more of those +trifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction by +forestalling it. + +But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated by +occasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretend +lovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I only +desire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings should +emanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by a +species of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her; +that by an excessive sensitiveness, she does not convert her love into +a source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of her +existence; that by a scrupulous fidelity, she may not render her lover +too sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. + +Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness of +temper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. +Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts of +their spouses or their lovers by too many indulgences and facilities. +What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificing +everything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. +So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soon +become accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as a +favor. + +You see women every day (even among those we despise with so much +reason), who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who are +attached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, +these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I am +persuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would never +think of following such an example. That military manner is repugnant +to gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes the +charm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable woman +soften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what is +necessary to hold a lover. + +We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we often +demand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in the +bottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us that +the governing hand bears down upon us sometimes for very good reasons, +and we take kindly to it. + +Now, for my last word: In everything relating to the force and energy +of love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope for +happiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as they +can govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their own +inclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromising +it and without abusing it. + + + + +XLV + +What Favors Men Consider Faults + + +To explain in two words to your satisfaction, Marquis. This is what I +think of the letter I sent you yesterday: For a woman to profit by the +advice of Monsieur de Saint-Evremond it is requisite that she should +be affected with only a mediocre fancy, and have excited the passion +of love. However, we shall talk about that more at large whenever it +may please you, now, I will take up what concerns you. + +The sacrifice the Countess has exacted of you is well worth the price +you put upon it. To renounce for her sake, a woman whose exterior +proclaimed her readiness to accord you whatever favor you might be +willing to ask; to renounce her publicly, in the presence of her +rival, and with so little regard for her vanity, is an effort which +naturally will not pass without a proportionate recompense. The +Countess could not have found a happier pretext for giving you her +portrait. + +But to take a solemn day when the Marquise received at her home for +the first time since her illness; to select a moment when the moneyed +woman was taking up arms to make an assault of beauty upon a woman of +rank; to speak to her merely in passing, to pretend to surrender +yourself entirely to the pleasure of seeing her rival; to entertain +the latter and become one of her party, is an outrage for which you +will never be pardoned. Revenge will come quickly, and be as cruel as +possible, you will see. It is I who guarantee it. Now for the second +paragraph of your letter: + +You ask me whether the last favor, or rather the last fault we can +commit, is a certain proof that a woman loves you. Yes and no. + +Yes, if you love the woman for whom you had your first passion, and +she is refined and virtuous. But even in such a case, this proof will +not be any more certain, or more flattering for you, than all the +others she may have given you of her inclination. Whatever a woman may +do when she loves, even things of the slightest essential nature in +appearance are as much certain marks of her passion, as those greater +things of which men are so proud. I will even add, that if this +virtuous woman is of a certain disposition, the last favor will prove +less than a thousand other small sacrifices you count for nothing, for +then, on her own behalf less than on yours, she is too much interested +in listening to you, for you to claim the glory of having persuaded +her, although every one else would have been accorded the same favor. + +I know a woman who permitted herself to be vanquished two or three +times by men she did not love, and the man she really loved never +obtained a single favor. It may happen, then, that the last favor +proves nothing to him to whom it is granted. Whereas, on the contrary, +it may happen that he owes the granting of it to the little regard +had for him. Women never respect themselves more than with those they +esteem, and you may be quite sure that it requires a very imperious +inclination to cause a reasonable woman to forget herself in the +presence of one whose disdain she dreads. Your pretended triumph, +therefore, may originate in causes which, so far from being glorious +for you, would humiliate you if you were aware of them. + +We see, for example, a lover who may be repelled; the woman who loves +him fears he will escape her to pay his addresses to another woman +more accommodating; she does not wish to lose him, for it is always +humiliating to be abandoned; she yields, because she is not aware of +any other means of holding him. They say there is nothing to reproach +in this. If he leaves her after that, at least he will be put in the +wrong, for, since a woman becomes attached more by the favors she +grants, she imagines the man will be forced into gratitude. What +folly! + +Women are actuated by different motives in yielding. Curiosity impels +some, they desire to know what love is. Another woman, with few +advantages of person or figure, would hold her lover by the +attractions of pleasure. One woman is determined to make a conquest +flattering to her vanity. Still another one surrenders to pity, +opportunity, importunities, to the pleasure of taking revenge on a +rival, or an unfaithful lover. How can I enumerate them all? The heart +is so very strange in its vagaries, and the reasons and causes which +actuate it are so curious and varied, that it is impossible to +discover all the hidden springs that set it in motion. But if we +delude ourselves as to the means of holding you, how often do men +deceive themselves as to the proofs of our love? If they possessed any +delicacy of discernment, they would find a thousand signs that prove +more than the most signal favor granted. + +Tell me, Marquis, what have I done to Monsieur de Coulanges? It is a +month since he has set foot in my house. But I will not reproach him, +I shall be very pleasant with him when he does come. He is one of the +most amiable men I am acquainted with. I shall be very angry with you +if you fail to bring him to me on my return from Versailles. I want +him to sing me the last couplets he has composed, I am told they are +charming. + + + + +XLVI + +Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice + + +It was too kind of you, Marquis, to have noticed my absence. If I did +not write you during my sojourn in the country, it was because I knew +you were happy, and that tranquilized me. I felt too, that it was +necessary for love to be accorded some rights, as its reign is usually +very short, and besides that, friendship not having any quarrel with +love, I waited patiently an interval in your pleasure which would +enable you to read my letters. + +Do you know what I was doing while away? I amused myself by piecing +out all the events liable to happen in the condition your society is +now in. I foresaw the bickerings between the Countess and her rival, +and I predicted they would end in an open rupture; I also guessed that +the Marquise would not espouse the cause of the Countess, but would +take up the other's quarrel. The moneyed woman is not quite so +handsome as her rival, a decisive reason for declaring for her and +backing her up without danger. + +What will be the upshot of all this quarreling among these women? How +many revolutions, Good Heavens! in so short a time! Your happiness +seems to be the only thing that has escaped. You discover new reasons +every day for loving and esteeming this amiable Countess. You believe +that a woman of so much real merit, and with so interesting a figure, +will become known more and more. Let nothing weaken the esteem you +have always had for her. You have, it is true, obtained an avowal of +her love for you, but is she less estimable for that? On the contrary, +ought not her heart to augment in price in your eyes, in proportion to +the certainty you have acquired that you are its sole possessor? Even +if you shall have obtained proofs of her inclination we spoke about +recently, do you think that gives you any right to underrate her? + +I can not avoid saying it; men like you arouse my indignation every +time they imagine they claim the right to lack in courtesy for my sex, +and punish us for our weaknesses. Is it not the height of injustice +and the depth of depravity to continue to insult the grief which is +the cause of their changes? Can not women be inconstant without being +unjust? Is their distaste always to be followed by some injurious act? +If we are guilty, is it the right of him who has profited by our +faults, who is the cause of them, to punish us? + +Always maintain for the Countess the sentiments you have expressed in +her regard. Do not permit a false opinion to interfere with the +progress which they can still make in your heart. It is not our defeat +alone which should render us despicable in your eyes. The manner in +which we have been defended, delivered, and guarded, ought to be the +only measure of your disdain. + +So Madame de La Fayette is of the opinion that my last letter is based +upon rather a liberal foundation? You see where your indiscretions +lead me. But she does not consider that I am no more guilty than a +demonstrator of anatomy. I analyse the metaphysical man as he dissects +the physical one. Do you believe that out of regard to scruples he +should omit in his operations those portions of his subject which +might offer corrupted minds occasions to draw sallies out of an ill +regulated imagination? It is not the essence of things that causes +indecency; it is not the words, or even the ideas, it is the intent of +him who utters them, and the depravity of him who listens. Madame de +La Fayette was certainly the last woman in the world whom I would have +suspected of reproaching me in that manner, and to-morrow, at the +Countess', I will make her confess her injustice. + + + + +XLVII + +Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals + + +What, I, Marquis, astonished at the new bickerings of your moneyed +woman? Do not doubt for an instant that she employs all the +refinements of coquetry to take you away from the Countess. She may +have a liking for you, but moderate your amour propre so far as that +is concerned, for the most powerful motive of her conduct, is, without +contradiction, the desire for revenge. Her vanity is interested in +punishing her rival for having obtained the preference. + +Women never pardon such a thing as that, and if he who becomes the +subject of the quarrel is not the first object of their anger, it is +because they need him to display their resentment. You have +encountered in the rival of the Countess precisely what you exacted +from her to strengthen your attachment. You are offered in advance the +price of the attentions you devote to her, and from which you will +soon be dispensed, and I think you will have so little delicacy as to +accept them. It is written across the heart of every man: "To the +easiest." + +You should blush to deserve the least reproach from the Countess. What +sort of a woman is it you seem to prefer to her? A woman without +delicacy and without love; a woman who is guided only by the +attractions of pleasure; more vain than sensible; more voluptuous than +tender; more passionate than affectionate, she seeks, she cherishes in +you nothing but your youth and all the advantages that accompany it. + +You know what her rival is worth; you know all your wrong doing with +her; you agree that you are a monster of ingratitude, yet, you are +unwilling to take it upon yourself to merit her pardon. Truly, +Marquis, I do not understand you. I am beginning to believe that +Madame de Sévigné was right when she said that her son knew his duty +very well, and could reason like a philosopher on the subject, but +that he was carried away by his passions, so that "he is not a head +fool, but a heart fool" (ce n'est pas par la tête qu'il est fou, mais +par le coeur). + +You recall in vain what I said to you long ago about making love in a +free and easy manner. You will remember that I was then enjoying +myself with some jocular reflections which were not intended to be +formal advice. Do not forget, either, that the question then was about +a mere passing fancy, and not of an ordinary mistress. But the case +to-day is very different, you can not find among all the women of +Paris, a single one who can be compared with her you are so cruelly +abandoning. And for what reason? Because her resistance wounds your +vanity. What resource is left us to hold you? + +I agree with you, nevertheless, that when a passion is extinguished it +can not be relighted without difficulty. No one is more the master of +loving than he is of not loving. I feel the truth of all these maxims; +I do homage to them with regret, as soon as, with a knowledge of the +cause, I consider that you reject what is excellent and accept the +worse; you renounce a solid happiness, durable pleasures, and yield to +depraved tastes and pure caprices; but I can see that all my +reflections will not reform you. I am beginning to fear that I am +wearying you with morals, and to tell you the truth, it is very +ridiculous in me to preach constancy when it is certain that you do +not love, and that you are a heart fool. + +I therefore abandon you to your destiny, without, however, giving up +my desire to follow you into new follies. Why: should I be afflicted? +Would it be of any moment to assume with you the tone of a pedagogue? +Assuredly not, both of us would lose too much thereby. I should become +weary and you would not be reformed. + + + + +XLVIII + +Friendship Must Be Firm + + +I do not conceal it, Marquis, your conduct in regard to the Countess +had put me out of patience with you, and I was tempted to break off +all my relations with so wicked a man as you. My good nature in +yielding to your entreaties inclines me to the belief that my +friendship for you borders on a weakness. You are right, though. To be +your friend only so long as you follow my advice would not be true +friendship. The more you are to be censured the stronger ought to be +my hold on you, but you will understand that one is not master of his +first thoughts. Whatever effort I may make to find you less guilty, +the sympathy I have for the misfortune of my friend is of still +greater importance to me. There were moments when I could not believe +in your innocence, and they were when so charming a woman complained +of you. Now that her situation is improving every day, I consider my +harshness in my last letter almost as a crime. + +I shall, hereafter, content myself with pitying her without +importuning you any longer about her. So let us resume our ordinary +gait, if it please you. You need no longer fear my reproaches, I see +they would be useless as well as out of place. + + + + +XLIX + +Constancy Is a Virtue Among the Narrow Minded + + +You did not then know, Marquis, that it is often more difficult to get +rid of a mistress than to acquire one? You are learning by experience. +Your disgust for the moneyed woman does not surprise me except that it +did not happen sooner. + +What! knowing her character so well, you could imagine that the +despair she pretended at the sight of your indifference increasing +every day, could be the effect of a veritable passion? You could also +be the dupe of her management! I admire, and I pity your blindness. + +But was it not also vanity which aided a trifle in fortifying your +illusion? In truth it would be a strange sort of vanity, that of being +loved by such a woman; but men are so vain, that they are flattered by +the love of the most confirmed courtesan. In any case undeceive +yourself. A woman who is deserted, when she is a woman like your +beauty, has nothing in view in her sorrow but her own interest. She +endeavors by her tears and her despair, to persuade you that your +person and your merit are all she regrets; that the loss of your heart +is the summit of misfortune; that she knows nobody who can indemnify +her for the loss of it. All these sentiments are false. It is not an +afflicted lover who speaks; it is a vain woman, desperate at being +anticipated, exasperated at the lack of power in her charms, worrying +over a plan to replace you promptly, anxious to give herself an +appearance of sensibility, and to appear worthy of a better fate. She +justifies this thought of Monsieur de la Rochefoucauld: "Women do not +shed tears over the lovers they have had, so much because they loved +them, as to appear more worthy of being loved." It is for D---- to +enjoy the sentiment. + +She must indeed, have a very singular idea of you to hope that she can +impose upon you. Do you wish to know what she is? The Chevalier is +actually without an affair of the heart on hand, engage him to take +your place. I have not received two letters from you that do not speak +of the facility with which she will be consoled for having lost you. A +woman of her age begins to fear that she will not recover what she has +lost, and so she is obliged to degrade her charms by taking the first +new comer. Perhaps her sorrow is true, but she deceives you as to the +motives she gives for it. Break these chains without scruple. In +priding yourself on your constancy and delicacy for such an object, +you appear to me to be as ridiculous as you were when you lacked the +same qualities on another occasion. + +Do you remember, Marquis, what Monsieur de Coulanges said to us one +day? "Constancy is the virtue of people of limited merit. Have they +profited by the caprice of an amiable woman to establish themselves in +her heart? the sentiment of medicrioty fixes them there, it +intimidates them, they dare not make an effort to please others. Too +happy at having surprised her heart, they are afraid of abandoning a +good which they may not find elsewhere, and, as an instant's attention +to their little worth might undeceive this woman, what do they then +do? They elevate constancy up among the virtues; they transform love +into a superstition; they know how to interest reason in the +preservation of a heart which they owe only to caprice, occasion, or +surprise." Be on your guard against imitating these shallow +personages. Hearts are the money of gallantry; amiable people are the +assets of society, whose destiny is to circulate in it and make many +happy. A constant man is therefore as guilty as a miser who impedes +the circulation in commerce. He possesses a treasure which he does not +utilize, and of which there are so many who would make good use of it. + +What sort of a mistress is that who is retained by force of reason? +What languor reigns in her society, what violence must one not employ +to say there is love when it has ceased to exist? It is seldom that +passion ceases in both parties at the same time, and then constancy is +a veritable tyrant; I compare it to the tyrant of antiquity who put +people to death by tying them to dead bodies. Constancy condemns us to +the same punishment. Discard such a baleful precedent to the liberty +of association. + +Believe me, follow your tastes, for the court lady you mentioned; she +may weary you at times, it is true, but at least she will not degrade +you. If, as you say, she is as little intelligent as she is beautiful, +her reign will soon be over. Your place in her heart will soon be +vacant, and I do not doubt that another or even several other +gallantries will follow yours. Perhaps you will not wait for the end, +for I see by your letter that you are becoming a man of fashion. The +new system you have adopted makes it certain, nothing can be better +arranged. Never finish one affair without having commenced another; +never withdraw from the first except in proportion as the second one +progresses. Nothing can be better, but in spite of such wise +precautions, you may find yourself destitute of any, as, for example, +some event beyond the reach of human foresight may interfere with +these arrangements, may have for principle always to finish with all +the mistresses at once, before enabling you to find any one to keep +you busy during the interregnum. I feel free to confess, Marquis, that +such an arrangement is as prudent as can be imagined, and I do not +doubt that you will be well pleased with a plan so wisely conceived. +Adieu. + +I do not know where I obtain the courage to write you such long and +foolish letters. I find a secret charm in entertaining you, which I +should suspect if I did not know my heart so well. I have been +reflecting that it is now without any affair, and I must henceforth be +on my guard against you, for you have very often thought proper to say +very tender things to me, and I might think proper to believe in their +sincerity. + + + + +L + +Some Women Are Very Cunning + + +You may derive as much amusement out of it as you wish, Marquis, but I +shall continue to tell you that you are not fascinated by Madame la +Presidente. Believe me when I say that I see more clearly into your +affairs than you do yourself. I have known a hundred good men who, +like you, pretended with the best faith in the world that they were +amorous, but who, in truth were not in any manner whatsoever. + +There are maladies of the heart as well as maladies of the body; some +are real and some are imaginary. Not everything that attracts you +toward a woman is love. The habit of being together, the convenience +of seeing each other, to get away from one's self, the necessity for a +little gallantry, the desire to please, in a word, a thousand other +reasons which do not resemble a passion in the least; these are what +you generally take to be love, and the women are the first to fortify +this error. Always flattered by the homage rendered them, provided +their vanity profits by it, they rarely inquire into the motives to +which they owe it. But, after all, are they not right? They would +nearly always lose by it. + +To all the motives of which I have just spoken, you can add still +another, quite as capable of creating an illusion in the nature of +your sentiments. Madame la Presidente is, without contradiction, the +most beautiful woman of our time; she is newly married; she refused +the homage of the most amiable man of our acquaintance. Perhaps +nothing could be more flattering to your vanity than to make a +conquest which would not fail to give you the kind of celebrity to +which you aspire. That, my dear Marquis, is what you call love, and it +will be difficult for you to disabuse yourself of the impression, for +by force of persuading yourself that it is love, you will, in a short +time firmly believe that the inclination is real. It will be a very +singular thing some day, to see with what dignity you will speak of +your pretended sentiments; with what good faith you will believe that +they deserve recognition, and, what will be still more agreeable, will +be the deference you will believe should be their due. But +unfortunately, the result will undeceive you, and you will then be the +first to laugh at the importance with which you treated so silly an +affair. + +Shall I tell you how far injustice reaches? I am fully persuaded that +you will not become more amorous. Henceforth, you will have nothing +but a passing taste, frivolous relations, engagements, caprices; all +the arrows of love will glance from you. It is true you will not +experience its pangs, but will you enjoy, in the least, its sweetness? +Can you hope ever to recover from the fantasies to which you surrender +yourself, those moments of delight which were formerly your supreme +felicity? I have no desire to flatter you, but I believe it my duty to +do you this much justice: Your heart is intended for refined +pleasures. It is not I who hold you responsible for the dissipation in +which you are plunged, it is the young fools around you. They call +enjoyment the abuse they make of pleasure; their example carries you +away. But this intoxication will be dissipated sooner or later, and +you will soon, see, at least I hope so, that you have been deceived in +two ways in the state of your heart. You thought it was fascinated by +Madame la Presidente, you will recognize your mistake; you thought she +had ceased to have an inclination for--but I hold to the words I have +uttered. Perhaps there will come a time when I shall be at liberty to +express my thoughts more freely. Now, I reply to the remainder of your +letter. + +Confess it, Marquis, that you had little else to do this morning when +you re-read my letters. I add that you must have been in a bad humor +to undertake their criticism. Some brilliant engagement, some +flattering rendezvous was wanting. But I do not care to elude the +difficulty. So I seem to contradict myself sometimes? If I were to +admit that it might very well be; if I were to give you the same +answer that Monsieur de la Bruyère gave his critics the other day: "It +is not I who contradict myself, it is the heart upon which I reason," +could you reasonably conclude from it that everything I have said to +you is false? I do not believe it. + +But how do I know, in effect, if, led away by the various situations +in which you were placed, I may not have appeared to destroy what I +had advanced on different occasions? How do I know, if, seeing you +ready to yield to a whim, I may not have carried too far, truths, +which, feebly uttered, would not, perhaps, have brought you back? How +do I know, in a word, if, being interested in the happiness of a +friend, the desire to serve her may not have sometimes diminished my +sincerity? I think I am very good natured to reply seriously to the +worries you have caused me. Ought I not first to take cognizance of +the fact that there is more malice in your letter than criticism? This +will be the last time you will have an opportunity to abuse my +simplicity. I am going to console myself for your perfidy with some +one who is assuredly not so wicked as you. + +What a pity it is that you are not a woman! It would give me so much +pleasure to discuss the new coiffures with you! I never saw anything +so extravagant as their height. At least, Marquis, remember that if +Madame la Presidente does not wear one of them incessantly, you can no +longer remain attached to her with decency. + + + + +LI + +The Parts Men and Women Play + + +So the affair has been decided! Whatever I may say of it, you are the +master of Madame la Presidente; a beloved rival has been sacrificed +for you and you triumph. + +How prompt your vanity is to make profit out of everything. I would +laugh heartily if your pretended triumph should end by your receiving +notice to quit some fine morning. For it may well be that this +sacrifice of which you boast so much is nothing but a stratagem. + +Ever since you have been associated with women, have you not +established as a principle that you must be on your guard against the +sentiments they affect? If your beauty had accepted you merely for the +purpose of re-awakening a languishing love in the heart of her +Celadon; if you were only the instrument of jealousy on the part of +one and artifice on the other, would that be a miracle? + +You say that Madame la Presidente is not very shrewd, and consequently +incapable of such a ruse. My dear Marquis, love is a great tutor, and +the most stupid women (in other respects) have often an acute +discernment, more accurate and more certain than any other, when it +comes to an affair of the heart. But let us leave this particular +thesis, and examine men in general who are in the same situation as +you. + +They all believe as you do, that the sacrifice of a rival supposes +some superiority over him. But how often does it happen that this same +sacrifice is only a by play? If it is sincere, the woman either loved +the rival or she did not. If she loved him, then as soon as she leaves +him, it is a sure proof that she loves him no longer, in which case +what glory is there for you in such a preference? If she did not love +him, what can you infer to your advantage from a pretended victory +over a man who was indifferent to her? + +There is also another case where you may be preferred, without that +preference being any more flattering. It is when the vanity of the +woman you attack is stronger than her inclination for the disgraced +lover. Your rank, your figure, your reputation, your fortune, may +determine her in your favor. It is very rare (I say it to the shame of +women, and men are no less ridiculous in that respect), it is rare, I +repeat, that a lover, who has nothing but noble sentiments to offer, +can long hold his own against a man distinguished for his rank, or his +position, who has servants, a livery, an equipage, etc. When the most +tender lover makes a woman blush for his appearance, when she dare not +acknowledge him as her conqueror, when she does not even consider him +as an object she can sacrifice with eclat, I predict that his reign +will be short. Her reasons for getting rid of him will be to her an +embarrassment of choice. Thus the defunct of la Presidente was a +counsellor of state, without doubt as dull and as stiff as his wig. +What a figure to set up against a courtier, against a warrior like +you? + +Well, will you believe in my predictions another time? What did I tell +you? Did the Chevalier find it difficult to persuade your Penelope? +This desolate woman, ready to break her heart, gave you a successor in +less than fifteen days, loves him, proves it, and is flouted. Is this +losing too much time? What is your opinion? + + + + +LII + +Love Is a Traitor With Sharp Claws + + +Yes, indeed, Marquis, it is due to my friendship, it is due to my +counsel that the Countess owes the tranquillity she begins to enjoy, +and I can not conceive the chagrin which causes the indifference she +manifests for you. I am very far, however, from desiring to complain +of you; your grief springs from a wounded vanity. + +Men are very unjust, they expect a woman always to consider them as +objects interesting to them, while they, in abandoning a woman, do not +ordinarily omit anything that will express their disdain. Of what +importance to you is the hatred or love of a person whom you do not +love? Tell me that. Your jealousy of the little Duke is so +unreasonable that I burst out laughing when I learned it. Is it not +quite simple, altogether natural that a woman should console herself +for your loss, by listening to a man who knows the value of her heart +better than you? By what right, if you please, do you venture to take +exceptions to it? You must admit that Madame de Sévigné was right: You +have a foolish heart, my poor Marquis. + +In spite of all that, the part you wish me to play in the matter +appears to me to be exceedingly agreeable. I can understand how nice +it would be to aid you in your plan of vengeance against an +unfaithful woman. Though it should be only through rancor or the +oddity of the thing, we must love each other. But all such comedies +turn out badly generally. Love is a traitor who scratches us when we +play with him. + +So, Marquis, keep your heart, I am very scrupulous about interfering +with so precious an association. Moreover, I am so disgusted with the +staleness of men, that henceforth I desire them only as friends. There +is always a bone to pick with a lover. I am beginning to understand +the value of rest, and I wish to enjoy it. I will return to this, +however. It would be very strange if you take the notion that you need +consolation, and that my situation exacts the same succor because the +Marquis de ---- has departed on his embassy. Undeceive yourself, my +friends suffice me, and, if you wish to remain among their number, at +least do not think of saying any more gallant things to me, +otherwise--Adieu, Marquis. + + + + +LIII + +Old Age Not a Preventive Against Attack + + +Oh, I shall certainly abandon your interests if you persist in talking +to me in such fashion. What demon inspired you with the idea of taking +the place of the absent? Could any one tease another as you did me +last evening? I do not know how you began it, but however much I +desired to be angry with you, it was impossible for me to do so. I do +not know how this will end. What is certain, however, is; it will be +useless for you to go on, for I have decided not to love you, and what +is worse, I shall never love you; yes, sir, never. + +Eh? truly, but this is a strange thing; to attempt to persuade a woman +that she is afflicted, that she needs consolation, when she assures +you that it is not the fact, and that she wants for nothing. This is +driving things with a tight hand. I entreat you, reflect a little on +the folly that has seized upon you. Would it be decent, tell me that, +if I were to take the place of my friend? That a woman who has served +you as a Mentor, who has played the role of mother to you, should +aspire to that of lover? Unprincipled wretch that you are! If you so +promptly abandon a young and lovely woman, what would you do with an +old girl like me? Perhaps you wish to attempt my conquest to see +whether love is for me the same in practice as in theory. Do not go to +the trouble of attempting such a seduction, I will satisfy your +curiosity on that point immediately. + +You know that whatever we are, women seldom follow any given +principles. Well, that is what you would discover in any gallant +association you aspire to form with me. All I have said about women +and love, has not given you any information as to my line of conduct +on such an occasion. There is a vast difference between feeling and +thinking; between talking for one's own account and pleading the cause +of another. You would, therefore, find in me many singularities that +might strike you unfavorably. I do not feel as other women. You might +know them all without knowing Ninon, and believe me, the novelties you +would discover would not compensate you for the trouble you might take +to please me. + +It is useless to exaggerate the value you put upon my conquest, that I +tell you plainly; you are expending too much on hope, I am not able to +respond. Remain where you are in a brilliant career. The court offers +you a thousand beautiful women, with whom you do not risk, as you +would with me, becoming weary of philosophy, of too much intelligence. + +I do not disguise the fact, however, that I would have been glad to +see you to-day. My head was split all the afternoon over a dispute on +the ancients and moderns. I am still out of humor on the subject, and +feel tempted to agree with you that I am not so far along on the +decline of life as to confine myself to science, and especially to the +gentlemen of antiquity. + +If you could only restrain yourself and pay me fewer compliments it is +not to be doubted that I would prefer to have you come and enliven my +serious occupations rather than any one else. But you are such an +unmanageable man, so wicked, that I am afraid to invite you to come +and sup with me to-morrow. I am mistaken, for it is now two hours +after midnight, and I recollect that my letter will not be handed you +before noon. So it is to-day I shall expect you. Have you any fault to +find? It is a formal rendezvous, to be sure, but let the fearlessness +in appointing it be a proof that I am not very much afraid of you, and +that I shall believe in as much of your soft talk as I deem proper. +You understand that it will not be I who can be imposed upon by that. +I know men so well---- + + + + +LIV + +A Shrewd But Not an Unusual Scheme + + +This is not the time, Marquis, to hide from you the true sentiments of +the Countess in your regard. However much I have been able to keep her +secret without betraying her friendship, and I have always done so, if +I conceal from you what I am going to communicate, you may one day +justly reproach me. + +Whatever infidelities you may have been guilty of, whatever care I +have been able to take to persuade her that you have been entirely +forgotten, she has never ceased to love you tenderly. Although she has +sought to punish you by an assumed indifference, she has never thought +of depriving herself of the pleasure of seeing you, and it has been +through the complaisance of the Countess that I have sometimes worried +you; it was to goad you into visiting me more frequently. But all +these schemes have not been able to satisfy a heart so deeply wounded, +and she is on the point of executing a design I have all along been +opposed to. You will learn all about it by reading the letter she +wrote me yesterday, and which I inclose in this. + + + + +FROM THE COUNTESS TO MADEMOISELLE DE L'ENCLOS. + + +"If you wish to remain my friend, my dear Ninon, cease to combat my +resolution; you know it is not the inspiration of the moment. It is +not the fruit of a momentary mortification, an imprudent vexation, nor +despair. I have never concealed it from you. The possession of the +heart of the Marquis de Sévigné might have been my supreme felicity if +I could have flattered myself with having it forever. I was certain of +losing it if I had granted him the favors he exacted of me. His +inconstancy has taught me that a different conduct would not be a sure +means of retaining a lover. I must renounce love forever, since men +are incapable of having a liaison with a woman, as tender, but as pure +as that of simple friendship. + +"You, yourself, well know that I am not sufficiently cured to see the +Marquis without always suffering. Flight is the only remedy for my +malady, and that is what I am about to take. I do not fear, moreover, +what the world may say about my withdrawal to the country. I have +cautioned those who might be surprised. It is known that I have won in +a considerable action against the heirs of my late husband. I have +given out that I am going to take possession of the estate awarded me. +I will thus deprive the public of the satisfaction of misinterpreting +my taste for solitude, and the Marquis of all suspicion that he is in +any manner to blame for it. I inclose his letters and his portrait. + +"Good Heaven! How weak I am! Why should it cost my heart so much to +get rid of an evil so fatal to my repose? But it is done, and my +determination can not be shaken. Pity me, however, and remember, my +dear friend, the promise you gave me to make him understand that I +have for him the most profound indifference. Whoever breaks off +relations with a lover in too public a manner, suggests resentment and +regret at being forced to do so; it is an honest way of saying that +one would ask nothing better than to be appeased. As I have no desire +to resume my relations with the Marquis, return him what I send, but +in the manner agreed upon, and pray him to make a similar restitution. +You may tell him that the management of my property obliges me to +leave Paris for a time, but do not speak of me first. + +"I should be inconsolable at leaving you, my dear Ninon, if I did not +hope that you would visit me in my solitude. You write willingly to +your friends, if you judge them by the tenderness and esteem they have +for you. In that case, you have none more worthy of that title than I. +I rely, therefore, upon your letters until you come to share my +retreat. You know my sentiments for you." + +I have no advice to give you, Marquis, on what you have just read, the +sole favor I expect from you is never to compromise me for the +indiscretion I commit, and that the Countess shall never have any +reason for not forgiving me. All I can say to justify myself in my own +eyes is, that you have loved the Countess too much for her resolution +to be a matter of absolute indifference to you. Had I been just, I +would have betrayed both by leaving you in ignorance of her design. + + + + +LV + +A Happy Ending + + +I am delighted with everything you have done, and you are charming. Do +not doubt it, your behavior, my entreaties, and better than all, love +will overcome the resistance of the Countess. Everything should +conspire to determine her to accept the offer you have made of your +hand. I could even, from this time on, assure you that pride alone +will resist our efforts and her own inclination. + +This morning I pressed her earnestly to decide in your favor. Her last +entrenchment was the fear of new infidelities on your part. + +"Reassure yourself," said I, "in proof that the Marquis will be +faithful to you, is the fact that he has been undeceived about the +other women, by comparing them with her he was leaving. Honest people +permit themselves only a certain number of caprices, and the Marquis +has had those which his age and position in society seemed to justify. +He yielded to them at a time when they were pardonable. He paid +tribute to the fashion by tasting of all the ridiculous things going. +Henceforth, he can be reasonable with impunity. A man can not be +expected to be amorous of his wife, but should he be, it will be +pardoned him as soon as people see you. You risk nothing, therefore, +Countess; you yourself have put on the airs of a society woman, but +you were too sensible not to abandon such a role; you renounced it; +the Marquis imitates you. Wherefore forget his mistakes. Could you +bear the reproach of having caused the death of so amiable a man? It +would be an act that would cry out for vengeance." + +In a word, I besought and pressed her, but she is still irresolute. +Still, I do not doubt that you will finish by overcoming a resistance +which she, herself, already deems very embarrassing. + +Well, Marquis, if the anxiety all this has caused you, gives you the +time to review what I have been saying to you for several days past, +might you not be tempted to believe that I have contradicted myself? +At first I advised you to treat love lightly and to take only so much +of it as might amuse you. You were to be nothing but a gallant, and +have no relations with women except those in which you could easily +break the ties. I then spoke to you in a general way, and relative to +ordinary women. Could I imagine that you would be so fortunate as to +meet a woman like the Countess, who would unite the charms of her sex +to the qualities of honest men? What must be your felicity? You are +going to possess in one and the same person, the most estimable friend +and a most charming mistress. Deign to admit me to share a third +portion of your friendship and my happiness will equal your own. Can +one be happier than in sharing the happiness of friends? + + + + +CORRESPONDENCE + +BETWEEN + +LORD SAINT-EVREMOND + +AND + +NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +WHEN OVER EIGHTY YEARS +OF AGE + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Charles de Saint Denis, Lord of Saint-Evremond, Marshal of France, was +one of the few distinguished Frenchmen, exiled by Louis XIV, whose +distinguished abilities as a warrior and philosopher awarded him a +last resting place in Westminster Abbey. His tomb, surmounted by a +marble bust, is situated in the nave near the cloister, located among +those of Barrow, Chaucer, Spenser, Cowley and other renowned +Englishmen. + +His epitaph, written by the hand of a Briton, is singularly replete +with the most eminent qualities, which the great men of his period +recognized in him, though his life was extraordinarily long and +stormy. He was moreover, a profound admirer of Ninon de l'Enclos +during his long career, and he did much toward shaping her philosophy, +and enabling her to understand the human heart in all its +eccentricities, and how to regulate properly the passion of love. + +During his long exile in England, the two corresponded at times, and +the letters here given are the fragments of a voluminous +correspondence, the greater part of which has been lost. They are to +be found in the untranslated collated works of Saint-Evremond, and are +very curious, inasmuch as they were written when Ninon and +Saint-Evremond were in their "eighties." + +Saint-Evremond always claimed, that his extremely long and vigorous +life was due to the same causes which Ninon de l'Enclos attributed to +her great age, that is, to an unflagging zeal in observing the +doctrines of the Epicurean philosophy. These ideas appear in his +letter to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, written to her under the sobriquet +of "Leontium," and which is translated and appended to this +correspondence. + +As an evidence of Saint-Evremond's unimpaired faculties at a great +age, the charms of his person attracted the attention of the Duchess +of Sandwich, one of the beauties of the English Court, and she became +so enamored of him, that a liaison was the result, which lasted until +the time of Saint-Evremond's death. They were like two young lovers +just beginning their career, instead of a youth over eighty years of +age, and a maiden who had passed forty. Such attachments were not +uncommon among persons who lived calm, philosophical lives, their very +manner of living inspiring tender regard, as was the case of the great +affection of the Marquis de Sévigné, who although quite young, and his +rank an attraction to the great beauties of the Court, nevertheless +aspired to capture the heart of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, who was over +sixty years of age. What Ninon thought about the matter, appears in +her letters on the preceding pages. + + + + +Correspondence Between Lord Saint-Evremond +and Ninon de L'Enclos +When Over Eighty Years +of Age + + + + + +I + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Lovers and Gamblers have Something in Common + + +I have been trying for more than a year to obtain news of you from +everybody, but nobody can give me any. M. de la Bastille tells me that +you are in good health, but adds, that if you have no more lovers, you +are satisfied to have a greater number of friends. + +The falsity of the latter piece of news casts a doubt upon the verity +of the former, because you are born to love as long as you live. +Lovers and gamblers have something in common: Who has loved will love. +If I had been told that you had become devout, I might have believed +it, for that would be to pass from a human passion to the love of God, +and give occupation to the soul. But not to love, is a species of +void, which can not be consistent with your heart. + +Ce repos languissant ne fut jamais un bien; +C'est trouver sans mouvoir l'êtat où l'on n'est rien. + +('Twas never a good this languishing rest; +'Tis to find without search a state far from blest.) + +I want to know about your health, your occupations, your inclinations, +and let it be in a long enough letter, with moralizing and plenty of +affection for your old friend. + +The news here is that the Count de Grammont is dead, and it fills me +with acute sorrow. + +If you know Barbin, ask him why he prints so many things that are not +mine, over my name? I have been guilty of enough folly without +assuming the burden of others. They have made me the author of a +diatribe against Père Bouhours, which I never even imagined. There is +no writer whom I hold in higher esteem. Our language owes more to him +than to any other author. + +God grant that the rumor of Count de Grammont's death be false, and +that of your health true. The Gazette de Hollande says the Count de +Lauzun is to be married. If this were true he would have been summoned +to Paris, besides, de Lauzun is a Duke, and the name "Count" does not +fit him. + +Adieu. I am the truest of your servants, who would gain much if you +had no more lovers, for I would be the first of your friends despite +an absence which may be called eternal. + + + + +II + + +Ninon de L'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +It is sweet to remember those we have loved + + +I was alone in my chamber, weary of reading, when some one exclaimed: +"Here is a messenger from Saint-Evremond!" You can imagine how quickly +my ennui disappeared--it left me in a moment. + +I have been speaking of you quite recently, and have learned many +things which do not appear in your letters--about your perfect health +and your occupation. The joy in my mind indicates its strength, and +your letter assures me that England promises you forty years more of +life, for I believe that it is only in England that they speak of men +who have passed the fixed period of human life. I had hoped to pass +the rest of my days with you, and if you had possessed the same +desire, you would still be in France. + +It is, however, pleasant to remember those we have loved, and it is, +perhaps, for the embellishment of my epitaph, that this bodily +separation has occurred. + +I could have wished that the young ecclesiastic had found me in the +midst of the glories of Nike, which could not change me, although you +seem to think that I am more tenderly enchanted with him than +philosophy permits. + +Madame the Duchess de Bouillon is like an eighteen-year old: the +source of her charms is in the Mazarin blood. + +Now that our kings are so friendly, ought you not to pay us a visit? +In my opinion it would be the greatest success derived from the peace. + + + + +III + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Wrinkles are a Mark of Wisdom + + +I defy Dulcinea to feel with greater joy the remembrance of her +Chevalier. Your letter was accorded the reception it deserved, and the +sorrowful figure in it did not diminish the merit of its sentiments. I +am very much affected by their strength and perseverance. Nurse them +to the shame of those who presume to judge them. I am of your opinion, +that wrinkles are a mark of wisdom. I am delighted that your surface +virtues do not sadden you, I try to use them in the same way. You have +a friend, a provincial Governor, who owes his fortune to his +amiability. He is the only aged man who is not ridiculed at Court. M. +de Turenne wished to live only to see him grow old, and desired to see +him father of a family, rich and happy. He has told more jokes about +his new dignity than others think. + +M. d'Ebène who gave you the name of "Curictator," has just died at the +hospital. How trivial are the judgments of men! If M. d'Olonne were +alive and could have read your letters to me, he would have continued +to be of your quality with his philosophy. M. de Lauzun is my +neighbor, and will accept your compliments. I send you very tenderly, +those of M. de Charleval, and ask you to remember M. de Ruvigny, his +friend of the Rue des Tournelles. + + + + +IV + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Near Hopes are Worth as much as Those Far Off + + +I sent a reply to your last letter to the correspondent of the Abbé +Dubois, but as he was at Versailles, I fear it has not reached him. + +I should have been anxious about your health without the visit of +Madame de Bouillon's little librarian, who filled my heart with joy by +showing me a letter from one who thinks of me on your account. +Whatever reason I may have had during my illness to praise the world +and my friends, I never felt so lively a joy as at this mark of +kindness. You may act upon this as you feel inclined since it was you +who drew it upon me. + +I pray you to let me know, yourself, whether you have grasped that +happiness one enjoys so much at certain times? The source will never +run dry so long as you shall possess the friendship of the amiable +friend who invigorates your life. (Lady Sandwich.) How I envy those +who go to England, and how I long to dine with you once again! What a +gross desire, that of dinner! + +The spirit has great advantages over the body, though the body +supplies many little repeated pleasures, which solace the soul in its +sorrowful moods. You have often laughed at my mournful reflections, +but I have banished them all. It is useless to harbor them in the +latter days of one's life, and one must be satisfied with the life of +every day as it comes. Near hopes, whatever you, may say against them, +are worth as much as those far off, they are more certain. This is +excellent moralizing. Take good care of your health, it is to that +everything should tend. + + + + +V + +Ninon de L'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +On the Death of de Charleval + + +Now, M. de Charleval is dead, and I am so much affected that I am +trying to console myself by thinking of the share you will take in my +affliction. Up to the time of his death, I saw him every day. His +spirit possessed all the charms of youth, and his heart all the +goodness and tenderness so desirable among true friends. We often +spoke of you and of all the old friends of our time. His life and the +one I am leading now, had much in common, indeed, a similar loss is +like dying one's self. + +Tell me the news about yourself. I am as much interested in your life +in London as if you were here, and old friends possess charms which +are not so well appreciated as when they are separated. + + + + +VI + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +The Weariness of Monotony + + +M. de Clerambault gave me pleasure by telling me that I am in your +thoughts constantly. I am worthy of it on account of the affection I +maintain for you. We shall certainly deserve the encomiums of +posterity by the duration of our lives, and by that of your +friendship. I believe I shall live as long as you, although I am +sometimes weary of always doing the same things, and I envy the Swiss +who casts himself into the river for that reason. My friends often +reprehend me for such a sentiment, and assure me that life is worth +living as long as one lives in peace and tranquillity with a healthy +mind. However, the forces of the body lead to other thoughts, and +those forces are preferred to strength of mind, but everything is +useless when a change is impossible. It is equally as worth while to +drive away sad reflections as to indulge in useless ones. + +Madame Sandwich has given me a thousand pleasures in making me so +happy as to please her. I did not dream, in my declining years to be +agreeable to a woman of her age. She has more spirit than all the +women of France, and more true merit. She is on the point of leaving +us, which is regretted by every one who knows her, by myself, +particularly. Had you been here we should have prepared a banquet +worthy of old times. Love me always. + +Madame de Coulanges accepted the commission to present your kind +compliments to M. le Comte de Grammont, through Madame de Grammont. He +is so young that I believe him fickle enough in time to dislike the +infirm, and that he will love them as soon as they return to good +health. + +Every one who returns from England speaks of the beauty of Madame la +Duchesse de Mazarin, as they allude to the beauty of Mademoiselle de +Bellefond, whose sun is rising. You have attached me to Madame de +Mazarin, and I hear nothing but the good that is said of her. + +Adieu, my friend, why is it not "Good day?" We must not die without +again seeing each other. + + + + +VII + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +After the Death of La Duchesse de Mazarin + + +What a loss for you, my friend! If it were not for the fact that we, +ourselves, will be considered a loss, we could not find consolation. I +sympathize with you with all my heart. You have just lost an amiable +companion who has been your mainstay in a foreign land. What can be +done to make good such a misfortune? Those who live long are subject +to see their friends die, after that, your philosophy, your mind, will +serve to sustain you. + +I feel this death as much as if I had been acquainted with the +Duchess. She thought of me in her last moments, and her goodness +affected me more than I can express; what she was to you drew me to +her. There is no longer a remedy, and there is none for whatever may +happen our poor bodies, so preserve yours. Your friends love to see +you so well and so wise, for I hold those to be wise who know how to +be happy. + +I give you a thousand thanks for the tea you sent me, but the lively +tone of your letter pleased me as much as your present. + +You will again see Madame Sandwich, whom we saw depart with regret. I +could wish that her condition in life might serve to be of some +consolation to you. I am ignorant of English customs, but she was +quite French while here. + +A thousand adieux, my friend. If one could think as did Madame de +Chevreuse, who believed when dying that she was going to converse with +all her friends in the other world! It would be a sweet thought. + + + + +VIII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Love Banishes Old Age + + +Your life, my well beloved, has been too illustrious not to be lived +in the same manner until the end. Do not permit M. de la +Rochefoucauld's "hell" to frighten you; it was a devised hell he +desired to construct into a maxim. Pronounce the word "love" boldly, +and that of "old age" will never pass your lips. + +There is so much spirit in your letters, that you do not leave me even +to imagine a decline of life in you. What ingratitude to be ashamed to +mention love, to which we owe all our merit, all our pleasures! For, +my lovely keeper of the casket, the reputation of your probity is +established particularly upon the fact that you have resisted lovers, +who would willingly have made free with the money of their friends. + +Confess all your passions to make your virtues of greater worth; +however, you do not expose but the one-half of your character; there +is nothing better than what regards your friends, nothing more +unsatisfactory than what you have bestowed upon your lovers. + +In a few verses, I will draw your entire character. Here they are, +giving you the qualities you now have and those you have had: + + Dans vos amours on vous trouvait legère, + En amitié toujours sûre et sincère; + Pour vos amants, les humeurs de Vénus, + Pour vos amis les solides vertus: + Quand les premiers vous nommaient infidèle, + Et qu'asservis encore à votre loi, + Ils reprochaient une flamme nouvelle, +Les autres se louaient de votre bonne foi. + Tantôt c'était le naturel d'Hélène, + Ses appétits comme tous ses appas; + Tantôt c'était la probité romaine? +C'était d'honneur la règle et le compas. + Dans un couvent en soeur dépositaire, + Vous auriez bien ménagé quelque affaire, + Et dans le monde à garder les dépôts, +On vous eût justement préférée aux dévots. + + (In your love affairs you were never severe, + But your friendship was always sure and sincere; + The humors of Venus for those who desired, + For your friends, in your heart, solid virtues conspired; +When the first, infidelity laid at your door, + Though not yet exempt from the law of your will, + And every new flame never failed to deplore, +The others rejoiced that you trusted them still. + Ingenuous Helen was sometimes your role, + With her appetites, charms, and all else beside; + Sometimes Roman probity wielded your soul, + In honor becoming your rule and your guide. + And though in a convent as guardian nun, +You might have well managed some sprightly fun, + In the world, as a keeper of treasures untold, +Preferred you would be to a lamb of the fold.) + +Here is a little variety, which I trust will not surprise you: + +L'indulgente et sage Nature +A formé l'âme de Ninon +De la volupté d'Epicure +Et de la vertu de Caton. + + + + +IX + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Stomachs Demand More Attention than Minds + + +The Abbé Dubois has just handed me your letter, and personally told me +as much good news about your stomach as about your mind. There are +times when we give more attention to our stomachs than to our minds, +and I confess, to my sorrow, that I find you happier in the enjoyment +of the one than of the other. I have always believed that your mind +would last as long as yourself, but we are not so sure of the health +of the body, without which nothing is left but sorrowful reflections. +I insensibly begin making them on all occasions. + +Here is another chapter. It relates to a handsome youth, whose desire +to see honest people in the different countries of the world, induced +him to surreptitiously abandon an opulent home. Perhaps you will +censure his curiosity, but the thing is done. He knows many things, +but he is ignorant of others, which one of his age should ignore. I +deemed him worthy of paying you a visit, to make him begin to feel +that he has not lost his time by journeying to England. Treat him well +for love of me. + +I begged his elder brother, who is my particular friend, to obtain +news of Madame la Duchesse Mazarin and of Madame Harvey, both of whom +wished to remember me. + + + + +X + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Why does Love Diminish After Marriage? + + +Translator's Note.--Two of Ninon's friends whom she idolized, were +very much surprised to discover after their marriage, that the great +passion they felt for each other before marriage, became feebler every +day, and that even their affection was growing colder. It troubled +them, and in their anxiety, they consulted Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, +begging her to find some reason in her philosophy, why the possession +of the object loved should weaken the strength of ante-nuptial +passion, and even destroy the most ardent affection. + +The question was discussed by Ninon and her "Birds" for several days +without reaching an opinion that was in any manner satisfactory. It +was therefore resolved to consult Saint-Evremond, who was living in +exile in England. After writing him all the particulars, and the +discussions that had been held with opinions pro and con, he sent the +following letter in reply, which is unanswerable upon the subject. +Moreover, it contains lessons that should be carefully studied and +well learned by all loving hearts, who desire to maintain their early +affection for each other during life. + +The letter is a masterpiece of the philosophy of love, and it is +remarkable, in that it develops traits in human nature upon the +subject of love and marriage, which are overlooked in questions +applicable to the relations between the sexes, and that are so often +strained to the breaking point. Indeed, it gives clues to a remedy +which can not fail to effect a cure. + + * * * * * + +My opinion is exactly in line with yours, Mademoiselle; it is not +always, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved object +which of itself destroys love; the true source of the dissatisfaction +that follows exists in the unintelligent manner of economizing the +sentiments, a too complete, too easy, and too prolonged possession. + +When we have yielded to the transports of a passion without reserve, +the tremendous shock to the soul can not fail quickly to leave it in a +profound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms and +chills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calm +which follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equal +and more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. +Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desire +anything. You will find that your desires are nothing but curiosity, +and this curiosity, which is one of the forces of the heart, +satisfied, our desires vanish. Whoever, therefore, would hold a spouse +or a lover should leave him something to be desired; something new +should be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, +procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I will +vouch for his perseverance in fidelity. + +I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat," is, in +an ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon the +lover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the cooling +of the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is due +to her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expended +in a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination she +had excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of her +lover, she becomes always the same statue; no variety to be hoped for, +and her lover knows it well. + +But in the woman I have in mind, it is the aurora of a lovelier day; +it is the beginning of the most satisfying pleasures. I, understand by +effusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, +those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us the +certainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all the +esteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch when +a man of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which have +always been hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires brings into +play all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; her +heart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far from +leading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. + +But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able to +control her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough +(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love with +prudence, with restraint, and modesty is, for that reason, the most +ingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to the +impetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in the +object loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That is +not love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover into +a spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve and +economy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, the +heart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. +If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will be +nothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive in +a lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, will +experience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity of +separating. + +To sum up: There is more intelligence required to love than is +generally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of the +fatal "yes" or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a woman +does not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, +desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches the +summit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care to +retain him, as he exhibited to overcome her; the desire to keep him +should render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to a +high position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficient +to make a man amorous; to render him constant, something more is +necessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal of +intelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and inequality. +Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become too +tender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good if +they were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. I +maintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving the +heart something to wish for, and the time to consider. + +I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is always +the fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling the +time when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by their +side. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still in +their power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which is +so dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they will +not be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shall +become more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing new +difficulties, arouse our anxieties, in fine, force us to desire new +proofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes the value +in our estimation. They will then find less cause of complaint in us, +and will be better satisfied with themselves. + +Shall I frankly avow it? Things would indeed change if women would +remember at the right time, that their role is always that of the +party to be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors; +that, created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in an +excess of passion, they should guard against surrendering at +discretion; the lover should always have something to ask, and +consequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favors +without limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, +revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on the +same level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat are +indistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority; +but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing more to do +than to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper, and +faithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be the +foundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; but +these qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offset +by a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bring +on languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constituted +heart. + +Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoying +prosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so much +pleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identically +erroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, the +other fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessary +consequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglects +to be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by the +practice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, and +hence-forward no more spicy seasoning in their relations, no more of +those trifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction by +forestalling it. + +But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated by +occasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretend +lovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I only +desire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings should +emanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by a +species of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her; +that by an excessive sensitiveness she does not convert her love into +a source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of her +existence; that by a scrupulous fidelity she may not render her lover +too sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. + +Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness of +temper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. +Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts of +their spouses or their lovers, by too many indulgences and facilities. +What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificing +everything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. +So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soon +become accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as a +favor. + +You see women every day (even among those we despise with so much +reason) who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who are +attached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, +these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I am +persuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would never +think of following such an example. That military manner is repugnant +to gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes the +charm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable woman +soften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what is +necessary to hold a lover. + +We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we often +demand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in the +bottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us that +the governing hand bears down upon us sometimes for very good reasons, +and we take kindly to it. + +Now, for my last word. In everything relating to the force and energy +of love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope for +happiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as they +can govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their own +inclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromising +it and without abusing it. + + + + +XI + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Few People Resist Age + + +A sprightly mind is dangerous to friendship. Your letter would have +spoiled any one but me. I know your lively and astonishing +imagination, and I have even wanted to remember that Lucian wrote in +praise of the fly, to accustom myself to your style. Would to Heaven +you could think of me what you write, I should dispense with the rest +of the world; so it is with you that glory dwells. + +Your last letter is a masterpiece. It has been the subject of all the +talks we have had in my chamber for the past month. You are +rejuvenating; you do well to love. Philosophy agrees well with +spiritual charms. It is not enough to be wise, one must please, and I +perceive that you will always please as long as you think as you do. + +Few people resist age, but I believe I am not yet overcome by it. I +could wish with you, that Madame Mazarin had looked upon life from her +own viewpoint, without thinking of her beauty, which would always have +been agreeable when common sense held the place of less brilliancy. +Madame Sandwich will preserve her mental force after losing her +youth, at least I think so. + +Adieu, my friend. When you see Madame Sandwich, remember me to her, I +should be very sorry to have her forget me. + + + + +XII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Age Has Some Consolations + + +It gives me a lively pleasure to see young people, handsome and +expanding like flowers; fit to please, and able to sincerely affect an +old heart like mine. As there has always been a strong similarity +between your tastes, your inclinations, your sentiments, and mine, I +think you will be pleased to receive a young Chevalier who is +attractive to all our ladies. He is the Duke of Saint Albans, whom I +have begged to pay you a visit, as much in his own interests as in +yours. + +Is there any one of your friends like de Tallard, imbued with the +spirit of our age, to whom I can be of any service? If so, command me. +Give me some news of our old friend de Gourville. I presume he is +prosperous in his affairs; if his health is poor I shall be very +sorry. + +Doctor Morelli, my particular friend, accompanies the Countess of +Sandwich, who goes to France for her health. The late Count Rochester, +father of Madame Sandwich, had more spirit than any man in England, +but Madame Sandwich has more than her father. She is generous and +spirituelle, and as amiable as she is generous and spirituelle. These +are a portion of her qualities. But, I have more to say about the +physician than about the invalid. + +Seven cities, as you know, dispute among themselves, the birth place +of Homer; seven great nations are quarrelling over Morelli: India, +Egypt, Arabia, Persia, Turkey, Italy, and Spain. The cold countries, +even the temperate ones, France, England and Germany, make no +pretensions. He is acquainted with every language and speaks the most +of them. His style, elevated, grand and figurative, leads me to +believe that he is of Oriental origin, and that he has absorbed what +he found good among the Europeans. He is passionately fond of music, +wild over poetry, inquisitive about paintings, a connoisseur in +everything--I cannot remember all. He has friends who know +architecture, and though skilled in his own profession, he is an adept +in others. + +I pray you to give him opportunities to become acquainted with all +your illustrious friends. If you make him yours, I shall consider him +fortunate, for you will never be able to make him acquainted with +anybody possessing more merit than yourself. + +It seems to me that Epicurus included in his sovereign good the +remembrance of past things. There is no sovereign good for a +centenarian like me, but there are many consolations, that of thinking +of you, and of all I have heard you say, is one of the greatest. + +I write of many things of no importance to you, because I never think +that I may weary you. It is enough if they please me, it is +impossible at my age, to hope they will please others. My merit +consists in being contented, too happy in being able to write you. + +Remember to save some of M. de Gourville's wine for me. I am lodged +with one of the relatives of M. de L'Hermitage, a very honest man, and +an exile to England on account of his religion. I am very sorry that +the Catholic conscience of France could not suffer him to live in +Paris, and that the delicacy of his own compelled him to abandon his +country. He certainly deserves the approbation of his cousin. + + + + +III + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Some Good Taste Still Exists in France + + +My dear friend, is it possible for you to believe that the sight of a +young man gives me pleasure? Your senses deceive you when it comes to +others. I have forgotten all but my friends. If the name "doctor" had +not reassured me, I should have replied by the Abbé de Hautefeuille, +and your English would never have heard of me. They would have been +told at my door that I was not at home, and I would have received your +letter, which gave me more pleasure than anything else. + +What a fancy to want good wine, and how unfortunate that I can not say +I was successful in getting it! M. de L'Hermitage will tell you as +well as I, that de Gourville never leaves his room, is indifferent to +taste of any kind, is always a good friend, but his friends do not +trespass upon his friendship for fear of worrying him. After that, if, +by any insinuation I can make, and which I do not now foresee, I can +use my knowledge of wine to procure you some, do not doubt that I will +avail myself of it. + +M. de Tallard was one of my former friends, but state affairs place +great men above trifles. I am told that the Abbé Dubois will go to +England with him. He is a slim little man who, I am sure, will please +you. + +I have twenty letters of yours, and they are read with admiration by +our little circle, which is proof that good taste still exists in +France. I am charmed with a country where you do not fear ennui, and +you will be wise if you think of nobody but yourself, not that the +principle is false with you: that you can no longer please others. + +I have written to M. Morelli, and if I find in him the skill you say, +I shall consider him a true physician. + + + + +XIV + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Superiority of the Pleasures of the Stomach + + +I have never read a letter which contained so much common sense as +your last one. You eulogize the stomach so highly, that it would be +shameful to possess an intelligent mind without also having a good +stomach. I am indebted to the Abbé Dubois for having sounded my +praises to you in this respect. + +At eighty-eight years of age, I can eat oysters every morning for +breakfast. I dine well and sup fairly well. The world makes heroes of +men with less merit than mine. + +Qu'on ait plus de bien, de crédit, +Plus de vertu, plus de conduite, +Je n'en aurai point de dépit, +Qu'un autre me passe en mérite +Sur le goût et sur l'appétit, +C'est l'avantage qui m'irrite. +L'estomac est le plus grand bien, +Sans lui les autres ne sont rien. +Un grand coeur veut tout entreprendre, +Un grand esprit veut tout comprendre; +Les droits de l'estomac sont de bien digérer; +Et dans les sentiments que me donne mon âge, +La beauté de l'esprit, la grandeur du courage, +N'ont rien qu'à se vertu l'on puisse comparer. + +(Let others more riches and fame, +More virtue and morals possess, +'Twill kindle no envious flame; +But to make my merit seem less +In taste, appetite, is, I claim, +An outrageous thing to profess. +The stomach's the greatest of things, +All else to us nothing brings. +A great heart would all undertake, +A great soul investigate, +But the law of the stomach is good things to digest, +And the glories which are at my age the delight, +True beauty of mind, of courage the height, +Are nothing unless by its virtue they're blest.) + +When I was young I admired intellect more than anything else, and was +less considerate of the interests of the body than I should have been; +to-day, I am remedying the error I then held, as much as possible, +either by the use I am making of it, or by the esteem and friendship I +have for it. + +You were of the same opinion. The body was something in your youth, +now you are wholly concerned with the pleasures of the mind. I do not +know whether you are right in placing so high an estimate upon it. We +read little that is worth remembering, and we hear little advice that +is worth following. However degenerate may be the senses of the age at +which I am living, the impressions which agreeable objects make upon +them appear to me to be so much more acute, that we are wrong to +mortify them. Perhaps it is a jealousy of the mind which deems the +part played by the senses better than its own. + +M. Bernier, the handsomest philosopher I have ever known (handsome +philosopher is seldom used, but his figure, shape, manner, +conversation and other traits have made him worthy of the epithet), M. +Bernier, I say, in speaking of the senses, said to me one day: + +"I am going to impart a confidence that I would not give Madame de la +Sablière, even to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whom I regard as a +superior being. I tell you in confidence, that abstinence from +pleasures appears to me to be a great sin." + +I was surprised at the novelty of the idea, and it did not fail to +make an impression upon my mind. Had he extended his idea, he might +have made me a convert to his doctrine. + +Continue your friendship which has never faltered, and which is +something rare in relations that have existed as long as ours. + + + + +XV + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Let the Heart Speak Its Own Language + + +I learn with pleasure that my soul is dearer to you than my body and +that your common sense is always leading you upward to better things. +The body, in fact, is little worthy of regard, and the soul has always +some light which sustains it, and renders it sensible of the memory of +a friend whose absence has not effaced his image. + +I often tell the old stories in which d'Elbène, de Charleval, and the +Chevalier de Riviere cheer up the "moderns." You are brought in at the +most interesting points, but as you are also a modern, I am on my +guard against praising you too highly in the presence of the +Academicians, who have declared in favor of the "ancients." + +I have been told of a musical prologue, which I would very much like +to hear at the Paris theater. The "Beauty" who is its subject would +strike with envy every woman who should hear it. All our Helens have +no right to find a Homer, and always be goddesses of beauty. Here I am +at the top, how am I to descend? + +My very dear friend, would it not be well to permit the heart to +speak its own language? I assure you, I love you always. Do not change +your ideas on that point, they have always been in my favor, and may +this mental communication, which some philosophers believe to be +supernatural, last forever. + +I have testified to M. Turretin, the joy I should feel to be of some +service to him. He found me among my friends, many of whom deemed him +worthy of the praise you have given him. If he desires to profit by +what is left of our honest Abbés in the absence of the court, he will +be treated like a man you esteem. I read him your letter with +spectacles, of course, but they did me no harm, for I preserved my +gravity all the time. If he is amorous of that merit which is called +here "distinguished," perhaps your wish will be accomplished, for +every day, I meet with this fine phrase as a consolation for my +losses. + +I know that you would like to see La Fontaine in England, he is so +little regarded in Paris, his head is so feeble. 'Tis the destiny of +poets, of which Tasso and Lucretius are evidence. I doubt whether +there is any love philter that could affect La Fontaine, he has never +been a lover of women unless they were able to foot the bills. + + + + +XVI + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +The Memory of Youth + + +I was handed in December, the letter you wrote me October 14. It is +rather old, but good things are always acceptable, however late they +may be in reaching us. You are serious, therefore, you please. You add +a charm to Seneca, who does not usually possess any. You call yourself +old when you possess all the graces, inclinations, and spirit of +youth. + +I am troubled with a curiosity which you can satisfy: When you +remember your past, does not the memory of your youth suggest certain +ideas as far removed from languor and sloth as from the excitement of +passion? Do you not feel in your soul a secret opposition to the +tranquillity which you fancy your spirit has acquired? + +Mais aimer et vous voir aimée +Est une douce liaison, +Que dans notre coeur s'est formée +De concert avec la raison. +D'une amoureuse sympathie, +Il faut pour arrêter le cours +Arrêter celui de nos jours; +Sa fin est celle de la vie. +Puissent les destins complaisants, +Vous donner encore trente ans +D'amour et de philosophie. + +(To love and be loved +Is a concert sweet, +Which in your heart is formed +Cemented with reason meet. +Of a loving concord, +To stop the course, +Our days must end perforce, +And death be the last record. +May the kind fates give +You thirty years to live, +With wisdom and love in accord.) + +I wish you a happy New Year, a day on which those who have nothing +else to give, make up the deficiency in wishes. + + + + +XVII + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +"I Should Have Hanged Myself" + + +Your letter filled with useless yearnings of which I thought myself +incapable. "The days are passing," as said the good man of Yveteaux, +"in ignorance and sloth; these days destroy us and take from us the +things to which we are attached." You are cruelly made to prove this. + +You told me long ago that I should die of reflections. I try not to +make any more, and to forget on the morrow the things I live through +today. Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of at one time +than at another. Be that as it may, had I been proposed such a life I +should have hanged myself. We hold on to an ugly body, however, as +something agreeable; we love to feel comfort and ease. Appetite is +something I still enjoy. Would to Heaven I could try my stomach with +yours, and talk of the old friends we have known, the memory of whom +gives me more pleasure than the presence of many people I now meet. +There is something good in all that, but to tell you the truth, there +is no comparison. + +M. de Clerambault often asks me if he resembles his father in mental +attainments. "No," I always answer him, but I hope from his +presumption that he believes this "no" to be of advantage to him, and +perhaps there are some who would have so considered it. What a +comparison between the present epoch and that through which we have +passed! + +You are going to write Madame Sandwich, but I believe she has gone to +the country. She knows all about your sentiment for her. She will tell +you more news about this country than I, having gauged and +comprehended everything. She knows all my haunts and has found means +of making herself perfectly at home. + + + + +XVIII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Life Is Joyous When It Is Without Sorrow + + +The very last letter I receive from Mademoiselle de l'Enclos always +seems to me to be better than the preceding ones. It is not because +the sentiment of present pleasure dims the memory of the past, but the +true reason is, your mind is becoming stronger and more fortified +every day. + +If it were the same with the body as with the mind, I should badly +sustain this stomach combat of which you speak. I wanted to make a +trial of mine against that of Madame Sandwich, at a banquet given by +Lord Jersey. I was not the vanquished. + +Everybody knows the spirit of Madame Sandwich; I see her good taste in +the extraordinary esteem she has for you. I was not overcome by the +praises she showered upon you, any more than I was by my appetite. You +belong to every nation, esteemed alike in London as in Paris. You +belong to every age of the world, and when I say that you are an honor +to mine, youth will immediately name you to give luster to theirs. +There you are, mistress of the present and of the past. May you have +your share of the right to be so considered in the future! I have not +reputation in view, for that is assured to all time, the one thing I +regard as the most essential is life, of which eight days are worth +more than centuries of post mortem glory. + +If any one had formerly proposed to you to live as you are now living, +you would have hanged yourself! (The expression pleases me.) However, +you are satisfied with ease and comfort after having enjoyed the +liveliest emotions. + +L'esprit vous satisfait, ou du moins vous console: +Mais on préférerait de vivre jeune et folle, +Et laisser aux vieillards exempts de passions +La triste gravité de leurs reflexions. + +(Mental joys satisfy you, at least they console, +But a young jolly life we prefer on the whole, +And to old chaps, exempt from passion's sharp stings, +Leave the sad recollections of former good things.) + +Nobody can make more of youth than I, and as I am holding to it by +memory, I am following your example, and fit in with the present as +well as I know how. + +Would to Heaven, Madame Mazarin had been of your opinion! She would +still be living, but she desired to die the beauty of the world. + +Madame Sandwich is leaving for the country, and departs admired in +London as she is in Paris. + +Live, Ninon, life is joyous when it is without sorrow. + +I pray you to forward this note to M. l'Abbé de Hautefeuille, who is +with Madame la Duchesse de Bouillon. I sometimes meet the friends of +M. l'Abbé Dubois, who complain that they are forgotten. Assure him of +my humble regards. + +Translator's Note--The above was the last letter Saint-Evremond ever +wrote Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and with the exception of one more +letter to his friend, Count Magalotti, Councillor of State to His +Royal Highness the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he never wrote any other, +dying shortly afterward at the age of about ninety. His last letter +ends with this peculiar Epicurean thought in poetry: + +Je vis éloigné de la France, +Sans besoins et sans abondance, +Content d'un vulgaire destin; +J'aime la vertu sans rudesse, +J'aime le plaisir sans mollesse, +J'aime la vie, et n'en crains pas la fin. + +(I am living far away from France, +No wants, indeed, no abundance, +Content to dwell in humble sphere; +Virtue I love without roughness, +Pleasures I love without softness, +Life, too, whose end I do not fear.) + + + + +DOCTRINE OF EPICURUS + +EXPLAINED BY + +MARSHAL DE SAINT-EVREMOND + +IN A LETTER TO + +THE MODERN LEONTIUM + +(NINON DE L'ENCLOS) + + + + +TO THE MODERN LEONTIUM + +(NINON DE L'ENCLOS) + + +Being the moral doctrine of the philosopher Epicurus as applicable to +modern times, it is an elucidation of the principles advocated by that +philosopher, by Charles de Saint-Evremond, Maréchal of France, a great +philosopher, scholar, poet, warrior, and profound admirer of +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. He died in exile in England, and his tomb +may be found in Westminster Abbey, in a conspicuous part of the nave, +where his remains were deposited by Englishmen, who regarded him as +illustrious for his virtues, learning and philosophy. + +He gave the name "Leontium" to Mademoiselle de L'Enclos, and the +letter was written to her under that sobriquet. The reasoning in it +will enable the reader to understand the life and character of Ninon, +inasmuch as it was the foundation of her education, and formed her +character during an extraordinarily long career. It was intended to +bring down to its date, the true philosophical principles of Epicurus, +who appears to have been grossly misunderstood and his doctrines +foully misinterpreted. + +Leontium was an Athenian woman who became celebrated for her taste for +philosophy, particularly for that of Epicurus, and for her close +intimacy with the great men of Athens. She lived during the third +century before the Christian era, and her mode of life was similar to +that of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. She added to great personal beauty, +intellectual brilliancy of the highest degree, and dared to write, a +learned treatise against the eloquent Theophrastus, thereby incurring +the dislike of Cicero, the distinguished orator, and Pliny, the +philosopher, the latter intimating that it might be well for her "to +select a tree upon which to hang herself." Pliny and other +philosophers heaped abuse upon her for daring, as a woman, to do such +an unheard of thing as to write a treatise on philosophy, and +particularly for having the assurance to contradict Theophrastus. + + +The Letter. + +You wish to know whether I have fully considered the doctrines of +Epicurus which are attributed to me? + +I can claim the honor of having done so, but I do not care to claim a +merit I do not possess, and which you will say, ingenuously, does not +belong to me. I labor under a great disadvantage on account of the +numerous spurious treatises which are printed in my name, as though I +were the author of them. Some, though well written, I do not claim, +because they are not of my writing, moreover, among the things I have +written, there are many stupidities. I do not care to take the trouble +of repudiating such things, for the reason that at my age, one hour of +well regulated life, is of more interest and benefit to me than a +mediocre reputation. How difficult it is, you see, to rid one's self +of amour propre! I quit it as an author, and reassume it as a +philosopher, feeling a secret pleasure in manipulating what others are +anxious about. + +The word "pleasure" recalls to mind the name of Epicurus, and I +confess, that of all the opinions of the philosophers concerning the +supreme good, there are none which appear to me to be so reasonable as +his. + +It would be useless to urge reasons, a hundred times repeated by the +Epicureans, that the love of pleasure and the extinction of pain, are +the first and most natural inclinations remarked in all men; that +riches, power, honor, and virtue, contribute to our happiness, but +that the enjoyment of pleasure, let us say, voluptuousness, to include +everything in a word, is the veritable aim and end whither tend all +human acts. This is very clear to me, in fact, self-evident, and I am +fully persuaded of its truth. + +However, I do not know very well in what the pleasure, or +voluptuousness of Epicurus consisted, for I never saw so many +different opinions of any one as those of the morals of this +philosopher. Philosophers, and even his own disciples, have condemned +him as sensual and indolent; magistrates have regarded his doctrines +as pernicious to the public; Cicero, so just and so wise in his +opinions, Plutarch, so much esteemed for his fair judgments, were not +favorable to him, and so far as Christianity is concerned, the Fathers +have represented him to be the greatest and the most dangerous of all +impious men. So much for his enemies; now for his partisans: + +Metrodorus, Hermachus, Meneceus, and numerous others, who +philosophize according to his school, have as much veneration as +friendship for him personally. Diogenes Laertes could not have written +his life to better advantage for his reputation. Lucretius adored him. +Seneca, as much of an enemy of the sect as he was, spoke of him in the +highest terms. If some cities held him in horror, others erected +statues in his honor, and if, among the Christians, the Fathers have +condemned him, Gassendi and Bernier approve his principles. + +In view of all these contrary authorities, how can the question be +decided? Shall I say that Epicurus was a corruptor of good morals, on +the faith of a jealous philosopher, of a disgruntled disciple, who +would have been delighted, in his resentment, to go to the length of +inflicting a personal injury? Moreover, had Epicurus intended to +destroy the idea of Providence and the immortality of the soul, is it +not reasonable to suppose that the world would have revolted against +so scandalous a doctrine, and that the life of the philosopher would +have been attacked to discredit his opinions more easily? + +If, therefore, I find it difficult to believe what his enemies and the +envious have published against him, I should also easily credit what +his partisans have urged in his defence. + +I do not believe that Epicurus desired to broach a voluptuousness +harsher than the virtue of the Stoics. Such a jealousy of austerity +would appear to me extraordinary in a voluptuary philosopher, from +whatever point of view that word may be considered. A fine secret +that, to declaim against a virtue which destroys sentiment in a sage, +and establishes one that admits of no operation. + +The sage, according to the Stoics, is a man of insensible virtue; that +of the Epicureans, an immovable voluptuary. The former suffers pain +without having any pain; the latter enjoys voluptuousness without +being voluptuous--a pleasure without pleasure. With what object in +view, could a philosopher who denied the immortality of the soul, +mortify the senses? Why divorce the two parties composed of the same +elements, whose sole advantage is in a concert of union for their +mutual pleasure? I pardon our religious devotees, who diet on herbs, +in the hope that they will obtain an eternal felicity, but that a +philosopher, who knows no other good than that to be found in this +world, that a doctor of voluptuousness should diet on bread and water, +to reach sovereign happiness in this life, is something my +intelligence refuses to contemplate. + +I am surprised that the voluptuousness of such an Epicurean is not +founded upon the idea of death, for, considering the miseries of life, +his sovereign good must be at the end of it. Believe me, if Horace and +Petronius had viewed it as painted, they would never have accepted +Epicurus as their master in the science of pleasure. The piety for the +gods attributed to him, is no less ridiculous than the mortification +of the senses. These slothful gods, of whom there was nothing to be +hoped or feared; these impotent gods who did not deserve the labor and +fatigue attendant upon their worship! + +Let no one say that worshipers went to the temple through fear of +displeasing the magistrates, and of scandalizing the people, for they +would have scandalized them less by refusing to assist in their +worship, than shocked them by writings which destroyed the established +gods, or at least ruined the confidence of the people in their +protection. + +But you ask me: What is your opinion of Epicurus? You believe neither +his friends nor his enemies, neither his adversaries nor his +partisans. What is the judgment you have formed? + +I believe Epicurus was a very wise philosopher, who at times and on +certain occasions loved the pleasure of repose or the pleasure of +movement. From this difference in the grade of voluptuousness has +sprung all the reputation accorded him. Timocrates and his other +opponents, attacked him on account of his sensual pleasures; those who +defended him, did not go beyond his spiritual voluptuousness. When the +former denounced him for the expense he was at in his repasts, I am +persuaded that the accusation was well founded. When the latter +expatiated upon the small quantity of cheese he required to have +better cheer than usual, I believe they did not lack reason. When they +say he philosophized with Leontium, they say well; when they say that +Epicurus diverted himself with her, they do not lie. According to +Solomon, there is a time to laugh and a time to weep; according to +Epicurus, there is a time to be sober and a time to be sensual. To go +still further than that, is a man uniformly voluptuous all his life? + +Religiously speaking, the greatest libertine is sometimes the most +devout; in the study of wisdom, the most indulgent in pleasures +sometimes become the most austere. For my own part, I view Epicurus +from a different standpoint in youth and health, than when old and +infirm. + +Ease and tranquillity, these comforts of the infirm and slothful, can +not be better expressed than in his writings. Sensual voluptuousness +is not less well explained by Cicero. I know that nothing is omitted +either to destroy or elude it, but can conjecture be compared with the +testimony of Cicero, who was intimately acquainted with the Greek +philosophers and their philosophy? It would be better to reject the +inequality of mind as an inconstancy of human nature. + +Where exists the man so uniform of temperament, that he does not +manifest contrarieties in his conversation and actions? Solomon merits +the name of sage, as much as Epicure for less, and he belied himself +equally in his sentiments and conduct. Montaigne, when still young, +believed it necessary to always think of death in order to be always +ready for it. Approaching old age, however, he recanted, so he says, +being willing to permit nature to gently guide him, and teach him how +to die. + +M. Bernier, the great partisan of Epicurus, avows to-day, that "After +philosophizing for fifty years, I doubt things of which I was once +most assured." + +All objects have different phases, and the mind which is in perpetual +motion, views them from different aspects as they revolve before it. +Hence, it may be said, that we see the same thing under different +aspects, thinking at the same time that we have discovered something +new. Moreover, age brings great changes in our inclinations, and with +a change of inclination often comes a change of opinion. Add, that the +pleasures of the senses sometimes give rise to contempt for mental +gratifications as too dry and unproductive and that the delicate and +refined pleasures of the mind, in their turn, scorn the voluptuousness +of the senses as gross. So, no one should be surprised that in so +great a diversity of aspects and movements, Epicurus, who wrote more +than any other philosopher, should have treated the same subjects in a +different manner according as he had perceived them from different +points of view. + +What avails this general reasoning to show that he might have been +sensible to all kinds of pleasure? Let him be considered according to +his relations with the other sex, and nobody will believe that he +spent so much time with Leontium and with Themista for the sole +purpose of philosophizing. But if he loved the enjoyment of +voluptuousness, he conducted himself like a wise man. Indulgent to the +movements of nature, opposed to its struggles, never mistaking +chastity for a virtue, always considering luxury as a vice, he +insisted upon sobriety as an economy of the appetite, and that the +repasts in which one indulged should never injure him who partook. His +motto was: "Sic praesentibus voluptatibus utaris ut futuris non +noceas." + +He disentangled pleasures from the anxieties which precede, and the +disgust which follows them. When he became infirm and suffered pain, +he placed the sovereign good in ease and rest, and wisely, to my +notion, from the condition he was in, for the cessation of pain is the +felicity of those who suffer it. + +As to tranquillity of mind, which constitutes another part of +happiness, it is nothing but a simple exemption from anxiety or worry. +But, whoso can not enjoy agreeable movements is happy in being +guaranteed from the sensations of pain. + +After saying this much, I am of the opinion that ease and tranquillity +constituted the sovereign good for Epicurus when he was infirm and +feeble. For a man who is in a condition to enjoy pleasures, I believe +that health makes itself felt by something more active than ease, or +indolence, as a good disposition of the soul demands something more +animated than will permit a state of tranquillity. We are all living +in the midst of an infinity of good and evil things, with senses +capable of being agreeably affected by the former and injured by the +latter. Without so much philosophy, a little reason will enable us to +enjoy the good as deliciously as possible and accommodate ourselves to +the evil as patiently as we can. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Life, Letters, and Epicurean +Philosophy of Ninon de L'Enclos, the Celebrated Beauty of the +Seventeenth Century, by Robinson [and] Overton, ed. and translation. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINON DE L'ENCLOS *** + +***** This file should be named 10665-8.txt or 10665-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/6/6/10665/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, Wilelmina Malliere and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Life, Letters, and Epicurean Philosophy of Ninon de L'Enclos, + the Celebrated Beauty of the Seventeenth Century + +Author: Robinson [and] Overton, ed. and translation. + +Release Date: January 10, 2004 [EBook #10665] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINON DE L'ENCLOS *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, Wilelmina Malliere and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +LIFE, LETTERS + +AND + +EPICUREAN PHILOSOPHY + +OF + +NINON + +DE L'ENCLOS + +The Celebrated Beauty of the Seventeenth Century + + + +ROBINSON--OVERTON + + + + +1903 + + + + +CONTENTS + +LIFE OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +CHAPTER I + +Ninon de l'Enclos as a Standard + +CHAPTER II + +Considered as a Parallel + +CHAPTER III + +Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos + +CHAPTER IV + +The Morals of the Period + +CHAPTER V + +Ninon and Count de Coligny + +CHAPTER VI + +The "Birds" of the Tournelles + +CHAPTER VII + +Effect of Her Mother's Death + +CHAPTER VIII + +Her Increasing Popularity + +CHAPTER IX + +Ninon's Friendships + +CHAPTER X + +Some of Ninon's Lovers + +CHAPTER XI + +Ninon's Lovers (Continued) + +CHAPTER XII + +The Villarceaux Affair + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Marquis de Sevigne + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Family Tragedy + +CHAPTER XV + +Ninon's Bohemian Environments + +CHAPTER XVI + +A Remarkable Old Age + + + + +LETTERS TO THE MARQUIS DE SEVIGNE + + +INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS +I--A Hazardous Undertaking +II--Why Love Is Dangerous +III--Why Love Grows Cold +IV--The Spice of Love +V--Love and Temper +VI--Certain Maxims Concerning Love +VII--Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo from Men +VIII--The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause +IX--Love Is a Natural Inclination +X--The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's Nature +XI--The Distinction Between Love and Friendship +XII--A Man in Love Is an Amusing Spectacle +XIII--Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love +XIV--Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in Love +XV--The Hidden Motives of Love +XVI--How to Be Victorious in Love +XVII--Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation +XVIII--When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of It +XIX--Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy +XX--The Half-way House to Love +XXI--The Comedy of Contrariness +XXII--Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to Love +XXIII--Two Irreconcilable Passions in Woman +XXIV--An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable +XXV--Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome +XXVI--Love Demands Freedom of Action +XXVII--The Heart Needs Constant Employment +XXVIII--Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance +XXIX--The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal +XXX--When Resistance is Only a Pretence +XXXI--The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la Sabliere +XXXII--The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart +XXXIII--A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with Love +XXXIV--Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder +XXXV--The Heart Should Be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano +XXXVI--Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women +XXXVII--The Allurements of Stage Women +XXXVIII--Varieties of Resistance Are Essential +XXXIX--The True Value of Compliments Among Women +XL--Oratory and Fine Phrases Do Not Breed Love +XLI--Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor +XLII--Surface Indications in Women Are Not Always Guides +XLIII--Women Demand Respect +XLIV--Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's Opinion +XLV--What Favors Men Consider Faults +XLVI--Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice +XLVII--Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals +XLVIII--Friendship Must Be Firm +XLIX--Constancy Is a Virtue Among Narrow Minded +L--Some Women Are Very Cunning +LI--The Parts Men and Women Play +LII--Love Is a Traitor with Sharp Claws +LIII--Old Age Not a Preventive Against Attack +LIV--A Shrewd But Not an Unusual Scheme +LV--A Happy Ending + + * * * * * + +CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN LORD SAINT-EVREMOND AND NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +I--Lovers and Gamblers Have Something in Common +II--It Is Sweet to Remember Those We Have Loved +III--Wrinkles Are a Mark of Wisdom +IV--Near Hopes Are Worth as Much as Those Far Off +V--On the Death of De Charleval +VI--The Weariness of Monotony +VII--After the Death of La Duchesse de Mazarin +VIII--Love Banishes Old Age +IX--Stomachs Demand More Attention Than Minds +X--Why Does Love Diminish After Marriage? +XI--Few People Resist Age +XII--Age Has Some Consolations +XIII--Some Good Taste Still Exists in France +XIV--Superiority of the Pleasures of the Stomach +XV--Let the Heart Speak Its Own Language +XVI--The Memory of Youth +XVII--I Should Have Hanged Myself +XVIII--Life Is Joyous When It Is Without Sorrow +Letter to the Modern Leontium + + + + +NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +LIFE AND LETTERS + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The inner life of the most remarkable woman that ever lived is here +presented to American readers for the first time. Ninon, or +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, as she was known, was the most beautiful +woman of the seventeenth century. For seventy years she held +undisputed sway over the hearts of the most distinguished men of +France; queens, princes, noblemen, renowned warriors, statesmen, +writers, and scientists bowing before her shrine and doing her homage, +even Louis XIV, when she was eighty-five years of age, declaring that +she was the marvel of his reign. + +How she preserved her extraordinary beauty to so great an age, and +attracted to her side the greatest and most brilliant men of the +century, is told in her biography, which has been entirely re-written, +and new facts and incidents added that do not appear in the French +compilations. + +Her celebrated "Letters to the Marquis de Sevigne," newly translated, +and appearing for the first time in the United States, constitute the +most remarkable pathology of the female heart, its motives, objects, +and secret aspirations, ever penned. With unsparing hand she unmasks +the human heart and unveils the most carefully hidden mysteries of +femininity, and every one who reads these letters will see herself +depicted as in a mirror. + +At an early age she perceived the inequalities between the sexes, and +refused to submit to the injustice of an unfair distribution of human +qualities. After due deliberation, she suddenly announced to her +friends: "I notice that the most frivolous things are charged up to +the account of women, and that men have reserved to themselves the +right to all the essential qualities; from this moment I will be a +man." From that time--she was twenty years of age--until her death, +seventy years later, she maintained the character assumed by her, +exercised all the rights and privileges claimed by the male sex, and +created for herself, as the distinguished Abbe de Chateauneauf says, +"a place in the ranks of illustrious men, while preserving all the +grace of her own sex." + + + + +LIFE OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS + + + +CHAPTER I + +Ninon de l'Enclos as a Standard + + +To write the biography of so remarkable a woman as Ninon de l'Enclos +is to incur the animadversions of those who stand upon the dogma, that +whoso violates one of the Ten Commandments is guilty of violating them +all, particularly when one of the ten is conventionally selected as +the essential precept and the most important to be observed. It is +purely a matter of predilection or fancy, perhaps training and +environment may have something to do with it, though judgment is +wanting, but many will have it so, and hence, they arrive at the +opinion that the end of the controversy has been reached. + +Fortunately for the common sense of mankind, there are others who +repudiate this rigid rule and excuse for human conduct; who refuse to +accept as a pattern of morality, the Sabbath breaker, tyrant, +oppressor of the poor, the grasping money maker, or charity monger, +even though his personal chastity may entitle him to canonization. +These insist that although Ninon de l'Enclos may have persistently +transgressed one of the precepts of the Decalogue, she is entitled to +great consideration because of her faithful observance of the others, +not only in their letter but in their spirit, and that her life +contains much that is serviceable to humanity, in many more ways than +if she had studiously preserved her personal purity to the sacrifice +of other qualities, which are of as equal importance as virtues, and +as essential to be observed. + +Another difficulty in the way of establishing her as a model of any +kind, on account of her deliberate violations of the sixth precept of +the Decalogue, is the fact that she was not of noble birth, held no +official position in the government of France, either during the +regency or under the reign of Louis XIII, but was a private person, +retiring in her habits, faithful in her liaisons and friendships, +delicate and refined in her manners and conversations, and eagerly +sought for her wisdom, philosophy, and intellectual ability. + +Had she been a Semiramis, a Messalina, an Agrippina, a Catherine II, +or even a Lady Hamilton, the glamor of her exalted political position +might have covered up a multitude of gross, vulgar practices, +cruelties, barbarities, oppressions, crimes, and acts of +misgovernment, and have concealed her spiritual deformity beneath the +grandeur of her splendid public vices and irregularities. The mantle +of royalty and nobility, like dipsomania, excuses a multitude of sins, +hypocrisy, and injustice, and inclines the world to overlook, +disregard, or even condone, what in them is considered small vices, +eccentricities of genius, but which in a private person are magnified +into mountains of viciousness, and call forth an army of well meaning +but inconsistent people to reform them by brute force. + +It is time to interpose an impasse to the further spread of this +misapprehension of the nature and consequences of human acts, and to +demonstrate the possibility, in humble walks of life, of virtues worth +cultivating, and to erect models out of those who, while they may be +derelict in their ethical duties, are still worthy of being imitated +in other respects. Our standards and patterns of morality are so high +as to be unattainable, not in the details of the practice of virtue, +but in the personnel of the model. Royal and noble blood permeated +with the odor of sanctity; virtuous statesmanship, or proud political +position attained through the rigid observance of the ethical rules of +personal purity, are nothing to the rank and file, the polloi, who can +never hope to reach those elevations in this world; as well expatiate +upon the virtues of Croesus to a man who will never go beyond his +day's wages, or expect the homeless to become ecstatic over the +magnificence of Nabuchodonosor's Babylonian palace. Such extremes +possess no influence over the ordinary mind, they are the mere +vanities of the conceited, the mistakes of moralists. + +The history of Ninon de l'Enclos stands out from the pages of history +as a pre-eminent character, before which all others are stale, +whatever their pretensions through position and grandeur, +notwithstanding that one great quality so much admired in +women--womanly purity--was entirely wanting in her conduct through +life. + +While no apology can be effectual to relieve her memory from that one +stigma, the other virtues connected with it, and which she possessed +in superabundance, deserve a close study, inasmuch as the trend of +modern society is in the direction of the philosophical principles and +precepts, which justified her in pursuing the course of life she +preferred to all others. She was an ardent disciple of the Epicurean +philosophy, but in her adhesion to its precepts, she added that +altruistic unselfishness so much insisted upon at the present day. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Considered as a Parallel + + +The birth of Ninon de l'Enclos was not heralded by salvoes of +artillery, Te Deums, or such other demonstrations of joy as are +attendant upon the arrival on earth of princes and offspring of great +personages. Nevertheless, for the ninety years she occupied the stage +of life, she accomplished more in the way of shaping great national +policies, successful military movements and brilliant diplomatic +successes, than any man or body of men in the seventeenth century. + +In addition to that, her genius left an impress upon music and the +fine arts, an impress so profound that the high standard of excellence +both have attained in our day is due to her efforts in establishing a +solid foundation upon which it was possible to erect a substantial +structure. Moreover, in her hands and under her auspices and guidance, +languages, belles lettres, and rhetoric received an impetus toward +perfection, and raised the French language and its literature, +fiction, poetry and drama, to so high a standard, that its productions +are the models of the twentieth century. + +It was Ninon de l'Enclos whose brilliant mentality and intellectual +genius formed the minds, the souls, the genius, of such master minds +as Saint-Evremond, La Rouchefoucauld, Moliere, Scarron, La Fontaine, +Fontenelle, and a host of others in literature and fine arts; the +Great Conde, de Grammont, de Sevigne, and the flower of the chivalry +of France, in war, politics, and diplomacy. Even Richelieu was not +unaffected by her influence. + +Strange power exerted by one frail woman, a woman not of noble birth, +with only beauty, sweetness of disposition, amiability, goodness, and +brilliant accomplishments as her weapons! It was not a case of the +moth and the flame, but the operation of a wise philosophy, the +precepts of which were decently, moderately and carefully inculcated; +a philosophy upon the very edge of which modern society is hanging, +afraid to accept openly, through too much attachment to ancient +doctrines which have drawn man away from happiness and comfort, and +converted him into a bitter pessimism that often leads to despair. + +As has already been suggested, had Ninon de l'Enclos sat upon a +throne, or commanded an army, the pages of history would teem with the +renown of her exploits, and great victories be awarded to her instead +of to those who would have met with defeat without her inspiration. + +Pompey, in his vanity, declared that he could raise an army by +stamping his foot upon the ground, but the raising of Ninon de +l'Enclos' finger could bring all the chivalry of Europe around a +single standard, or at the same gentle signal, cause them to put aside +their arms and forget everything but peace and amity. She dominated +the intellectual geniuses of the long period during which she lived, +and reigned over them as their absolute queen, through the sheer force +of her personal charms, which she never hesitated to bestow upon those +whom she found worthy, and who expressed a desire to possess them, +studiously regulated, however, by the precepts and principles of the +philosophy of Epicurus, which today is rapidly gaining ground in our +social relations through its better understanding and appreciation. + +Her life bears a great resemblance to the histories in which we read +about the most celebrated women of ancient times, who occupied a +middle station between the condition of marriage and prostitution--a +class of women whose Greek name is familiarized to our ears in +translations of Aristophanes. Ninon de l'Enclos was of the order of +the French "hetaerae," and, as by her beauty and her talents, she +attained the first rank in the social class, her name has come down to +posterity with those of Aspasia and Leontium, while the less +distinguished favorites of less celebrated men have shared the common +oblivion, which hides from the memory of men, every degree of +mediocrity, whether of virtue or vice. + +A class of this kind, a status of this singular nature existing +amongst accomplished women, who inspired distinguished men with lofty +ideals, and developed the genius of men who, otherwise, would have +remained in obscurity, can never be uninteresting or uninstructive; +indeed, it must afford matter for serious study. They are prefigures, +or prototypes of the influence that aims to sway mankind at the +present day in government, politics, literature, and the fine arts. + +As a distinguished example of such a class, the most prominent in the +world, in fact, apart from a throne, Ninon de l'Enclos will peculiarly +engage the attention of all who, whether for knowledge or amusement, +are observers of human nature under all its varieties and +circumstances. + +It would be idle to enter upon a historical digression on the state of +female manners in ancient Athens, or in Europe during the last three +centuries. The reader should discard them from his mind when he +peruses the life of Ninon de l'Enclos, and examine her character and +environments from every point of view as a type toward which is +trending modern social conditions. + +At first blush, and to a narrow intellect, an individual woman of the +character of Ninon de l'Enclos would seem hopelessly lost to all +virtue, abandoned by every sense of shame, and irreclaimable to any +feeling of social or private duty. But only at first blush, and to the +most circumscribed of narrow minds, who, fortunately, do not control +the policy of mankind, although occasional disorders here and there +indicate that they are endeavouring to do so. + +A large majority of mankind are of the settled opinion that every +virtue is bound up in that of chastity. Our manners and customs, our +laws, most of our various kinds of religions, our national sentiments +and feelings--all our most serious opinions, as well as our dearest +and best rooted prejudices, forbid the dissevering, in the minds of +women of any class, the ideas of virtue and female honor. That is, +our public opinion is along that line. To raise openly a doubt on this +head, or to disturb, on a point considered so vital, the settled +notions of society, is equally inconsistent with common prudence and +the policy of common honesty; and as tending to such an end, we are +apt to consider all discussion on the subject as at least officiously +incurring danger, without an opportunity of inculcating good. + +But, however strongly we insist upon this opinion for such purposes, +there are others in which it is not useless to relax that severity for +a moment, and to view the question, not through the medium of +sentiment, but with an eye of philosophic impartiality. We are +gradually nearing the point, where it is conceded that in certain +conditions of society, one failing is not wholly incompatible with a +general practice of virtue--a remark to be met with in every homily +since homilies were written, notwithstanding that rigid rule already +alluded to in the previous chapter. + +It is surprising that it has never occurred to any moralist of the +common order, who deals chiefly with such general reflections, to +apply this particular maxim to this particular social status. We +follow the wise precepts of honesty found in Cicero, although we know +that he was, at the time he was writing them, plundering his fellow +men at every opportunity. Our admiration for Bacon's philosophy and +wisdom reaches adulation although he was the "meanest of men," and was +guilty of the most flagrant crimes such as judicial bribery and +political corruption. We read that Aspasia had some great and many +amiable qualities; so too had Ninon de l'Enclos; and it is worthy of +consideration, how far we judge candidly or wisely in condemning such +characters in gross, and treating their virtues as Saint Austin was +wont to deal with those of his heathen adversaries, as no better than +"splendid vices," so unparalleled in their magnitude as to become +virtues by the operation of the law of extremes. There was no law +permitting a man to marry his sister, and there was no law forbidding +King Cambyses to do as he liked. + +Another grave point to be considered is this: The world, as it now +stands, its laws, systems of government, manners and customs, and +social conditions, have been built up on these same "splendid vices," +and whenever they have been tamed into subjection to mediocrity--let +us say to clerical, or ecclesiastical domination;--government, society +and morals have retrograded. The social condition in France during +Ninon de l'Enclos' time, and in England during the reign of Charles +II, is startling evidence of this accusation. Moreover, it is fast +becoming the condition to-day, a fact indicated by the almost +universal demand for a revolution in social ethics, the foundation to +which, for some reason, has become awry, threatening to topple down +the structure erected upon it. Society can see nothing to originate, +an incalculable number of attempts to better human conditions always +proving failures, and worsening the human status. It is dawning upon +the minds of the true lovers of humanity, that there is nothing else +to be done, but to revert to the past to find the key to any possible +reform, and to that past we are edging rapidly, though, it must be +said unwillingly, in the hope and expectation that the old foundations +are possessed of sufficient solidity to support a new or re-modeled +structure. + +The life of Ninon de l'Enclos, upon this very point, furnishes food +for profitable reflection, inasmuch as it gives an insight into the +great results to be obtained by the following of the precepts of an +ancient philosophy which seems to have survived the clash of ages of +intellectual and moral warfare, and to have demonstrated its capacity +to supply defects in segregated dogmatic systems wholly incapable of +any syncretic tendencies. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos + + +Anne de l'Enclos, or "Ninon," as she has always been familiarly called +by the world at large, was born at Paris in 1615. What her parents +were, or what her family, is a matter of little consequence. To all +persons who have attained celebrity over the route pursued by her, +original rank and station are not of the least moment. By force of his +genius in hewing for himself a niche in history, Napoleon was truly +his own ancestor, as it is said he loved to remark pleasantly. So with +Ninon de l'Enclos, the novelty of the career she laid out for herself +to follow, and did follow until the end with unwavering constancy, +justifies us in regarding her as the head of a new line, or dynasty. + +In the case of mighty conquerors, whose path was strewn with violence, +even lust, no one thinks of an ignoble origin as in any manner +derogatory to the eminence; on the contrary, it is considered rather +as matter to be proud of; the idea that out of ignominy, surrounded by +conditions devoid of all decency, justice, and piety, an individual +can elevate himself up to the highest pinnacle of human power and +glory, has always, and will always be regarded as an example to be +followed, and the badge of success stretched to cover the means of +its attainment. This is the universal custom where success has been +attained, the failures being relegated to a well merited oblivion as +unworthy of consideration either as lessons of warning or for any +purpose. Our youth are very properly taught only the lessons of +success. + +It is in evidence that Ninon's father was a gentleman of Touraine and +connected, through his wife, with the family of Abra de Raconis, a +race of no mean repute in the Orleanois, and that he was an +accomplished gentleman occupying a high position in society. Voltaire, +however, declares that Ninon had no claim to a parentage of such +distinction; that the rank of her mother was too obscure to deserve +any notice, and that her father's profession was of no higher dignity +than that of a teacher of the lute. This account is not less likely, +from the remarkable proficiency acquired by Ninon, at an early age, in +the use of that instrument. + +It is equally certain, however, that Ninon's parents were not obscure, +and that her father was a man of many accomplishments, one of which +was his skill as a performer on the lute. A fact which may have +induced Voltaire to mistake one of his talents for his regular +profession. + +Ninon's parents were as opposite in sentiments and disposition as the +Poles of the earth. Madame de l'Enclos was a prudent, pious Christian +mother, who endeavored to inspire her daughter with the same pious +sentiments which pervaded her own heart. The fact is that the mother +attempted to prepare her daughter for a conventual life, a profession +at that period of the highest honor, and one that led to preferment, +not only in religious circles, but in the world of society. At that +time, conventual and monastic dignitaries occupied a prominent place +in the formation of public and private manners and customs, and if not +regarded impeccable, their opinions were always considered valuable in +state matters of the greatest moment, even the security of thrones, +the welfare and peace of nations sometimes depending upon their +wisdom, judgment, and decisions. + +With this laudable object in view, Madame de l'Enclos carefully +trained her daughter in the holy exercises of her religion, to which +she hoped to consecrate her entire life. But the fond mother met with +an impasse, an insurmountable obstacle, in the budding Ninon herself, +who, even in the temples of the Most High, when her parent imagined +her to be absorbed in the contemplation of saintly things, and +imbibing inspiration from her "Hours," the "Lives of the Saints," or +"An Introduction to a Holy Life," a book very much in vogue at that +period, the child would be devouring such profane books as Montaigne, +Scarron's romances and Epicurus, as more in accordance with her trend +of mind. + +Even at the early age of twelve years, she had mastered those authors, +and had laid out a course of life, not in accord with her good +mother's ideas, for it excluded the idea of religion as commonly +understood, and crushed out the sentiment of maternity, that crowning +glory to which nearly all young female children aspire, although in +them, at a tender age, it is instinctive and not based upon knowledge +of its meaning. + +This beginning of Ninon's departure from the beaten path should not be +a matter of surprise, for all the young open their hearts to ideas +that spring from the sentiments and passions, and anticipate in +imagination the parts they are to play in the tragedy or comedy of +life. + +It is this period of life which the moralist and educator justly +contend should be carefully guarded. It is really a concession to +environment, and a tacit argument against radical heredity as the +foundation upon which rest the character and disposition of the adult, +and which is the mainspring of his future moral conduct. It is +impossible to philosophize ourselves out of this sensible position. + +In the case of Ninon, there was her mother, a woman of undoubted +virtue and exemplary piety, following the usual path in the training +of her only child and making a sad failure of it, or at least not +making any impression on the object of her solicitude. This was, +however, not due to the mother's intentions: her training was too weak +to overcome that coming from another quarter. It has been said that +Ninon's father and mother were as opposite as the Poles in character +and disposition, and Ninon was suspended like a pendulum to swing +between two extremes, one of which had to prevail, for there was no +midway stopping place. It may be that the disciple of heredity, the +opponent of environment will perceive in the result a strong argument +in favor of his view of humanity. Be that as it may, Ninon swung away +from the extreme of piety represented by her mother, and was caught at +the other extreme by the less intellectually monotonous ideas of her +father. There was no mental conflict in the young mind, nothing +difficult; on the contrary, she accepted his ideas as pleasanter and +less conducive to pain and discomfort. Too young to reason, she +perceived a flowery pathway, followed it, and avoided the thorny one +offered her by her mother. + +Monsieur de l'Enclos was an Epicurean of the most advanced type. +According to him, the whole philosophy of life, the entire scheme of +human ethics as evolved from Epicurus, could be reduced to the four +following canons: + +First--That pleasure which produces no pain is to be embraced. + +Second--That pain which produces no pleasure is to be avoided. + +Third--That pleasure is to be avoided which prevents a greater +pleasure, or produces a greater pain. + +Fourth--That pain is to be endured which averts a greater pain, or +secures a greater pleasure. + +The last canon is the one that has always appealed to the religious +sentiments, and it is the one which has enabled an army of martyrs to +submit patiently to the most excruciating torments, to reach the +happiness of Paradise, the pleasure contemplated as a reward for +enduring the frightful pain. The reader can readily infer, however, +from his daily experiences with the human family, that this +construction is seldom put upon this canon, the world at large, +viewing it from the Epicurean interpretation, which meant earthly +pleasures, or the purely sensual enjoyments. It is certain that +Ninon's father did not construe any of these canons according to the +religious idea, but followed the commonly accepted version, and +impressed them upon his young daughter's mind in all their various +lights and shades. + +Imbibing such philosophy from her earliest infancy, the father taking +good care to press them deep into her plastic mind, it is not +astonishing that Ninon should discard the more distasteful fruits to +be painfully harvested by following her mother's tuition, and accept +the easily gathered luscious golden fruit offered her by her father. +Like all children and many adults, the glitter and the tinsel of the +present enjoyment were too powerful and seductive to be resisted, or +to be postponed for a problematic pleasure. + +The very atmosphere which surrounded the young girl, and which she +soon learned to breathe in deep, pleasurable draughts, was surcharged +with the intoxicating oxygen of freedom of action, liberality, and +unrestrained enjoyment. While still very young she was introduced into +a select society of the choicest spirits of the age and speedily +became their idol, a position she continued to occupy without +diminution for over sixty years. No one of all these men of the world +had ever seen so many personal graces united to so much +intellectuality and good taste. Ninon's form was as symmetrical, +elegant and yielding as a willow; her complexion of a dazzling white, +with large sparkling eyes as black as midnight, and in which reigned +modesty and love, and reason and voluptuousness. Her teeth were like +pearls, her mouth mobile and her smile most captivating, resistless +and adorable. She was the personification of majesty without pride or +haughtiness, and possessed an open, tender and touching countenance +upon which shone friendship and affection. Her voice was soft and +silvery, her arms and hands superb models for a sculptor, and all her +movements and gestures manifested an exquisite, natural grace which +made her conspicuous in the most crowded drawing-room. As she was in +her youth, so she continued to be until her death at the age of ninety +years, an incredible fact but so well attested by the gravest and most +reliable writers, who testify to the truth of it, that there is no +room for doubt. Ninon attributed it not to any miracle, but to her +philosophy, and declared that any one might exhibit the same +peculiarities by following the same precepts. We have it on the most +undoubted testimony of contemporaneous writers, who were intimate with +him, that one of her dearest friends and followers, Saint-Evremond, at +the age of eighty-nine years, inspired one of the famous beauties of +the English Court with an ardent attachment. + +The beauties of her person were so far developed at the age of twelve +years, that she was the object of the most immoderate admiration on +the part of men of the greatest renown, and her beauty is embalmed in +their works either as a model for the world, or she is enshrined in +song, poetry, and romance as the heroine. + +In fact Ninon had as tutors the most distinguished men of the age, who +vied with one another in embellishing her young mind with all the +graces, learning and accomplishments possible for the human mind to +contain. Her native brightness and active mind absorbed everything +with an almost supernatural rapidity and tact, and it was not long +before she became their peer, and her qualities of mind reached out so +far beyond theirs in its insatiable longing, that she, in her turn, +became their tutor, adviser and consoler, as well as their tender +friend. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The Morals of the Period + + +Examples of the precocious talents displayed by Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos are not uncommon in the twentieth century, but the +application she made of them was remarkable and uncommon. Accomplished +in music, learned and proficient in the languages, a philosopher of no +small degree, and of a personal beauty sometimes called "beaute de +diable," she appeared upon the social stage at a time when a new idol +was an imperative necessity for the salvation of moral sanity, and the +preservation of some remnants of personal decency in the sexual +relations. + +Cardinal Richelieu had just succeeded in consolidating the usurpations +of the royal prerogatives on the rights of the nobility and the +people, which had been silently advancing during the preceding reigns, +and was followed by the long period of unexampled misgovernment, which +oppressed and impoverished as well as degraded every rank and every +order of men in the French kingdom, ceasing only with the Revolution. + +The great Cardinal minister had built worse than he had intended, it +is to be hoped; for his clerico-political system had practically +destroyed French manhood, and left society without a guiding star to +cement the rope of sand he had spun. Unable to subject the master +minds among the nobility to its domination, ecclesiasticism had +succeeded in destroying them by augmenting royal prerogatives which it +could control with less difficulty. Public maxims of government, +connected as they were with private morals, had debauched the nation, +and plunged it into a depth of degradation out of which Richelieu and +his whole entourage of clerical reformers could not extricate a single +individual. It was a riot of theological morality. + +The whole body of the French nobility and the middle class of citizens +were reduced to a servile attendance on the court, as the only means +of advancement and reward. Every species of industry and merit in +these classes was sedulously discouraged; and the motive of honorable +competition for honorable things, being withdrawn, no pursuit or +occupation was left them but the frivolous duties, or the degrading +pleasures of the palace. + +Next to the king, the women naturally became the first objects of +their effeminate devotion; and it is difficult to say which were +soonest corrupted by courtiers consummate in the arts of adulation, +and unwearied in their exercise. The sovereign rapidly degenerated +into an accomplished despot, and the women into intriguers and +coquettes. Richelieu had indeed succeeded in subjecting the State to +the rule of the Church, but Ninon was destined to play an important +part in modifying the evils which afflicted society, and at least +elevate its tone. From the methods she employed to effect this +change, it may be suspected that the remedy was equivalent to the +Hanemannic maxim: "Similia similbus curantur," a strange application +of a curative agent in a case of moral decrepitude, however valuable +and effective it may be in physical ailments. + +The world of the twentieth century, bound up as it is in material +progress, refuses to limit its objects and aims to the problematic +enjoyment of the pleasures of Paradise in the great hereafter, or of +suffering with stoicism the pains and misfortunes of this earth as a +means of avoiding the problematic pains of Hell. Future rewards and +punishments are no longer incentives to virtue or right living. The +only drag upon human acts of every kind is now that great political +maxim, the non-observance of which has often deluged the earth with +blood; "Sic utere tuo ut alienum non laedas," which is to say: So use +thine own as not to injure thy neighbor. It is a conventional +principle, one of contract in reality, but it has become a great +doctrine of equity and justice, and it is inculcated by our +educational systems to the exclusion of the purely religious idea, and +the elimination of religious dogma, which tends to oppressive +restraints, is carefully fostered. + +There is another reason why men's minds are impelled away from the +purely sentimental moral doctrines insisted upon by sectarianism, +which is ecclesiasticism run riot, and the higher the education the +deeper we delve into the secret motives of that class of mankind, the +deceptive outward appearances of which dominate the pages of history, +which is, that the greatest and most glorious systems of government, +the wisest and most powerful of rulers, the greatest and most liberal +statesmen, heroes, and conspicuous conquerors, originated in +violations of the Decalogue, and those nations and kingdoms which have +been founded upon strictly ecclesiastical ideas, have all sunk beneath +the shifting sands of time, or have become so degenerate as to be +bywords and objects of derision. + +From the same viewpoint, a strange phenomenon is observable in the +world of literature, arts, and sciences. The brightest, greatest +geniuses, whose works are pointed to with admiration; studied as +models and standards, made the basis of youthful education, imitated, +and even wept over by the sentimental, were, in their private lives, +persons of the most depraved morals. Why this should be the case, it +is impossible even to conjecture, the fact only remaining that it is +so. Perhaps there are so many different standards of morality, that +humanity, weary of the eternal bickering consequent upon the conflicts +entered into for their enforcement, have made for themselves a new +interpretation which they find less difficult to observe, and find +more peace and pleasure in following. + +To take a further step in the same direction, it is curious that in +the lives of the Saints, those who spent their whole earthly existence +in abstinence, works of the severest penance, and mortifications of +the flesh, the tendency of demoniac influence was never in the +direction of Sabbath breaking, profanity, idolatry, robbery, murder +and covetousness, but always exerted itself to the fullest extent of +its power in attacks upon chastity. All other visions were absent in +the hair-shirted, and self-scourgings brought out nothing but sexual +idealities, sensual temptations. The reason for this peculiarity is +not far to seek. What is dominant in the minds always finds egress +when a favorable opportunity is presented, and the very thought of +unchastity as something to be avoided, leads to its contemplation, or +its creation in the form of temptation. The virtue of chastity was the +one law, and its observances and violations were studied from every +point of view, and its numberless permissible and forbidden +limitations expatiated upon to such a degree, that he who escaped them +altogether could well attribute the result to the interposition of +some supernatural power, the protection of some celestial guardian. +One is reminded of the expression of St. Paul: "I had not known lust +had the law not said: thou shalt not covet." Lord Beaconsfield's +opinion was, that excessive piety led to sexual disorders. + +According to Ninon's philosophy, whatever tended to propagate +immoderation in the sexual relations was rigidly eliminated, and +chastity placed upon the same plane and in the same grade as other +moral precepts, to be wisely controlled, regulated, and managed. She +put all her morality upon the same plane, and thereby succeeded in +equalizing corporeal pleasure, so that the entire scale of human acts +produced a harmonious equality of temperament, whence goodness and +virtue necessarily followed, the pathway being unobstructed. + +It is too much to be expected, or even to be hoped for, that there +will ever be any unanimity among moral reformers, or any uniformity in +their standards of moral excellence. The educated world of the present +day, reading between the lines of ancient history, and some that is +not so very ancient, see ambition for place and power as the moving +cause, the inspiration behind the great majority of revolutions, and +they have come to apply the same construction to the great majority of +moral agitations and movements for the reform of morals and the +betterment of humanity, with pecuniary reward or profit, however, +added as the sine qua non of maintaining them. + +Cure the agitation by removing the occasion for it, and Othello's +occupation would be gone; hence, the agitation continues. As an +eminent theologian declared with a conviction that went home to a +multitude, at the Congress of Religions, when the Columbian Exposition +was in operation: + +"If all the religions in the world are to be merged into one, who, or +what will support the clergy that will be deprived of their salaries +by the change in management?" + +The Golden Calf and Aaron were there, but where was the angry Moses? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Ninon and Count de Coligny + + +It was impossible for a maiden trained in the philosophy of Epicurus, +and surrounded by a brilliant society who assiduously followed its +precepts to avoid being caught in the meshes of the same net spread +for other women. Beloved and even idolized on all sides, as an object +that could be worshiped without incurring the displeasure of +Richelieu, who preferred his courtiers to amuse themselves with women +and gallantries rather than meddle with state affairs, and being +disposed both through inclination and training to accept the +situation, Ninon felt the sentiments of the tender passion, but +philosophically waited for a worthy object. + +That object appeared in the person of the young Gaspard, Count de +Coligny, afterwards Duc de Chatillon, who paid her assiduous court. +The result was that Ninon conceived a violent passion for the Count, +which she could not resist, in fact did not care to resist, and she +therefore yielded to the young man of distinguished family, charming +manners, and a physically perfect specimen of manhood. + +It is alleged by Voltaire and repeated by Cardinal de Retz, that the +early bloom of Ninon's charms was enjoyed by Richelieu, but if this be +true, it is more than likely that Ninon submitted through policy and +not from any affection for the great Cardinal. It is certain, however, +that the great statesman's attention had been called to her growing +influence among the French nobility, and that he desired to control +her actions if not to possess her charms. She was a tool that he +imagined he could utilize to keep his rebellious nobles in his leash. +Abbe Raconis, Ninon's uncle, and the Abbe Boisrobert, her friend, who +stood close to the Cardinal, had suggested to His Eminence that the +charms of the new beauty could be used to advantage in state affairs, +and he accordingly sent for her at first through curiosity, but when +he had seen her he hoped to control her for his personal benefit. + +Although occupied in vast projects which his great genius and activity +always conducted to a happy issue, the great man had not renounced the +affections of his human nature, nor his intellectual gratifications. +He aimed at everything, and did not consider anything beneath his +dignity. Every day saw him engaged in cultivating a taste for +literature and art, and some moments of every day were set apart for +social gallantries. When it came to the art of pleasing and attracting +women, we have the word of Cardinal de Retz for it, that he was not +always successful. Perhaps it is only inferior minds who possess the +art and the genius of seduction. + +The intriguing Abbe, in order to bring Ninon under the influence of +his master, and to charm her with the great honor done her by a man +upon whom were fixed the eyes of all Europe, prepared a series of +gorgeous fetes, banquets and entertainments at the palace at Rueil. +But Ninon was not in the least overwhelmed, and refused to hear the +sighs of the great man. Hoping to inspire jealousy, he affected to +love Marion de Lormes, a proceeding which gave Ninon great pleasure as +it relieved her from the importunities of the Cardinal. The end of it +was, that Richelieu gave up the chase and left Ninon in peace to +follow her own devices in her own way. + +Whatever may have been the relations between Ninon and Cardinal +Richelieu, it is certain that the Count de Coligny was her first +sentimental attachment, and the two lovers, in the first intoxication +of their love, swore eternal constancy, a process common to all new +lovers and believed possible to maintain. It was not long, however, +before Ninon perceived that the first immoderate transports of love +gradually lost their activity, and by applying the precepts of her +philosophy to explain the phenomenon, came to regard love by its +effects, as a blind mechanical movement, which it was the policy of +men to ennoble according to the conventional rules of decency and +honor, to the exclusion of its original meaning. + +After coldly reasoning the matter out to its only legitimate +conclusion, she tore off the mask covering a metaphysical love, which +could not reach or satisfy the light of intelligence or the sentiments +and emotions of the heart, and which appeared to her to possess as +little reality as the enchanted castles, marvels of magic, and +monsters depicted in poetry and romance. To her, love finally became a +mere thirst, and a desire for pleasure to be gratified by indulgence +like all other pleasure. The germ of philosophy already growing in her +soul, found nothing in this discovery that was essentially unnatural; +on the contrary, it was essentially natural. It was clear to her +logical mind, that a passion like love produced among men different +effects according to different dispositions, humors, temperament, +education, interest, vanity, principles, or circumstances, without +being, at the same time, founded upon anything more substantial than a +disguised, though ardent desire of possession, the essential of its +existence, after which it vanished as fire disappears through lack of +fuel. Dryden, the celebrated English poetic and literary genius, +reaches the same opinion in his Letters to Clarissa. + +Having reached this point in her reasoning, she advanced a step +further, and considered the unequal division of qualities distributed +between the two sexes. She perceived the injustice of it and refused +to abide by it. "I perceive," she declared, "that women are charged +with everything that is frivolous, and that men reserve to themselves +the right to essential qualities. From this moment I shall be a man." + +All this growing out of the ardour of a first love, which is always +followed by the lassitude of satiety, so far from causing Ninon any +tears of regret, nerved her up to a philosophy different from that of +other women, and makes it impossible to judge her by the same +standard. She can not be considered a woman subject to a thousand +fantasies and whims, a thousand trifling concealed proprieties of +position and custom. Her morals became the same as those of the wisest +and noblest men of the period in which she lived, and raised her to +their rank instead of maintaining her in the category of the +intriguing coquettes of her age. + +It is not improbable that her experience of the suffering attendant +upon the decay of such attachments, a suffering alluded to by those +who contemplate only the intercourse of the sexes through the medium +of poetry and sentiment, had considerable influence in determining her +future conduct. At an early age, following upon her liaison with Count +Coligny, she adopted the determination she adhered to during the rest +of her life, of retaining so much only of the female character as was +forced upon her by nature and the insuperable laws of society. Acting +on this principle, her society was chiefly composed of persons of her +adopted sex, of whom the most celebrated of their time made her house +a constant place of meeting. + +A curious incident in her relations with Count de Coligny was her +success in persuading him to adjure the errors of the Huguenots and +return to the Roman Catholic Church. She had no religious +predilections, feeling herself spiritually secure in her philosophic +principles, but sought only his welfare and advancement. His obstinacy +was depriving him of the advantages due his birth and personal merit. +Considering that Ninon was scarcely sixteen years of age, respiring +nothing but love and pleasure, to effect by tenderness and the +persuasive strength of her reasoning powers, such a change in a man +so obstinate as the Count de Coligny, in an obstinate and excessively +bigoted age, was something unique in the history of lovers of that +period. Women then cared very little for religious principles, and +rarely exerted themselves in advancing the cause of the dominant +religion, much less thought of the spiritual needs of their favorites. +The reverse is the rule in these modern times, when women are the most +ardent and persistent proselytizers of the various sects, a custom +which recalls the remark of a distinguished lawyer who failed to +recover any assets from a notorious bankrupt he was pursuing for the +defrauded creditors: "This man has everything in his wife's name--even +his religion." + +Ninon's disinterested counsel prevailed, and the Count afterward +abjured his errors, becoming the Duc de Chatillon, Marquis d'Andelot, +and died a lieutenant general, bravely fighting for his country, at +Charenton. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The "Birds" of the Tournelles + + +Having decided upon her career, Ninon converted her property into +prudent and safe securities, and purchased a city house in the Rue des +Tournelles au Marais, a locality at that time the center of +fashionable society, and another for a summer residence at Picpusse, +in the environs of Paris. A select society of wits and gallant +chevaliers soon gathered around her, and it required influence as well +as merit to gain an entrance into its ranks. Among this elite were +Count de Grammont, Saint-Evremond, Chapelle, Moliere, Fontenelle, and +a host of other no less distinguished characters, most of them +celebrated in literature, arts, sciences, and war. Ninon christened +the society "Oiseaux des Tournelles," an appellation much coveted by +the beaux and wits of Paris, and which distinguished the chosen +company from the less favored gentlemen of the great metropolis. + +Among those who longed for entrance into this charming society of +choice spirits was the Count de Charleval, a polite and accomplished +chevalier, indeed, but of no particular standing as a literary +character. Nothing would do, however, but a song of triumph as a test +of his competency and he accomplished it after much labor and +consumption of midnight oil. Scarron has preserved the first stanza +in his literary works, the others being lost to the literary world, +perhaps with small regret. The sentiments expressed in the first +stanza rescued from oblivion will be sufficient to indicate the +character of the others: + +"Je ne suis plus oiseau des champs, +Mais de ces oiseaux des Tournelles +Qui parlent d'amour en tout temps, +Et qui plaignent les tourterelles +De ne se baiser qu'au printemps." + +Which liberally translated into English will run substantially as +follows: + +No more am I a wild bird on the wing, +But one of the birds of the Towers, who +The love in their hearts always sing, +And pity the poor Turtle Doves that coo +And never kiss only in spring. + +Scarron alludes to the delicacy of the Count's taste and the +refinement of his wit, by saying of him: "The muses brought him up on +blanc mange and chicken broth." + +How Ninon kept together this remarkable coterie can best be understood +by an incident unparalleled in female annals. The Count de Fiesque, +one of the most accomplished nobles of the French court, had it +appears, grown tired of an attachment of long standing between Ninon +and himself, before the passion of the former had subsided. A letter, +containing an account of his change of sentiments, with reasons +therefor, was presented his mistress, while employed at her toilette +in adjusting her hair, which was remarkable for its beauty and +luxuriance, and which she regarded as the apple of her eye. Afflicted +by the unwelcome intelligence, she cut off half of her lovely tresses +on the impulse of the moment, and sent them as her answer to the +Count's letter. Struck by this unequivocal proof of the sincerity of +her devotion to him, the Count returned to his allegiance to a +mistress so devoted, and thenceforward retained it until she herself +wearied of it and desired a change. + +As an illustration of her sterling honesty in money matters and her +delicate manner of ending a liaison, the following anecdote will serve +to demonstrate the hold she was able to maintain upon her admirers. + +M. de Gourville, an intimate friend of Ninon's, adhered in the wars of +the Fronde to the party of the Prince of Conde, one of the "Birds of +the Tournelles." Compelled to quit Paris, to avoid being hanged in +person, as he was in effigy, he divided the care of a large sum of +ready money between Ninon de l'Enclos and the Grand Penitencier of +Notre Dame. The money was deposited in two caskets. On his return from +exile, he applied to the priest for the return of his money, but to +his astonishment, all knowledge of the deposit was denied, and that if +any such deposit had been made, it was destined for charitable +purposes under the rules of the Penitencier, and had most probably +been distributed among the poor of Paris. De Gourville protested in +vain, and when he threatened to resort to forcible means, the power +of the church was invoked to compel him to abandon his attempt. So +cruelly disappointed in a man whom all Paris deemed incorruptibly +honest, de Gourville suspected nothing else from Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos. It was absurd to hope for probity in a woman of +reprehensible habits when that virtue was absent in a man who lived a +life of such austerity as the Grand Penitencier, hence he determined +to abstain from visiting her altogether, lest he might hate the woman +he had so fondly loved. + +Ninon, however, had other designs, and learning that he had returned, +sent him a pressing invitation to call upon her. + +"Ah! Gourville," she exclaimed as soon as he appeared, "a great +misfortune has happened me in consequence of your absence." + +That settled the matter in de Gourville's mind, his money was gone and +he was a pauper. Plunged in mournful reflections, de Gourville dared +not raise his eyes to those of his mistress. But she, mistaking his +agitation, went on hastily: + +"I am sorry if you still love me, for I have lost my love for you, and +though I have found another with whom I am happy, I have not forgotten +you. Here," she continued, turning to her escritoire, "here are the +twenty thousand crowns you intrusted to me when you departed. Take +them, my friend, but do not ask anything from a heart which is no +longer disposed in your favor. There is nothing left but the most +sincere friendship." + +Astonished at the contrast between her conduct and that of her +reverend co-depositary, and recognizing that he had no right to +complain of the change in her heart because of his long absence, de +Gourville related the story of the indignity heaped upon him by a man +of so exalted a character and reputation. + +"You do not surprise me," said Ninon, with a winning smile, "but you +should not have suspected me on that account. The prodigious +difference in our reputations and conditions should have taught you +that." Then adding with a twinkle in her eye: "Ne suis-je pas la +gardeuse de la cassette?" + +Ninon was afterward called "La belle gardeuse de cassette," and +Voltaire, whose vigilance no anecdote of this nature could escape, has +made it, with some variations, the subject of a comedy, well known to +every admirer of the French drama, under the name of "La Depositaire." + +Ninon had her preferences, and when one of her admirers was not to her +taste, neither prayers nor entreaties could move her. Hers was not a +case of vendible charms, it was le bon appetit merely, an Epicurean +virtue. The Grand Prior of Vendome had reason to comprehend this trait +in her character. + +The worthy Grand Prior was an impetuous wooer, and he saw with great +sorrow that Ninon preferred the Counts de Miossens and de Palluan to +his clerical attractions. He complained bitterly to Ninon, but instead +of being softened by his reproaches, she listened to the voice of some +new rival when the Grand Prior thought his turn came next. This put +him in a great rage and he resolved to be revenged, and this is the +way he fancied he could obtain it. One day shortly after he had left +Ninon's house, she noticed on her dressing table a letter, which she +opened to find the following effusion: + +"Indigne de mes feux, indigne de mes larmes, +Je renonce sans peine a tes faibles appas; + Mon amour te pretait des charmes, + Ingrate, que tu n'avais pas." + +Or, as might be said substantially in English: + +Unworthy my flame, unworthy a tear, +I rejoice to renounce thy feeble allure; + My love lent thee charms that endear, + Which, ingrate, thou couldst not procure. + +Instead of being offended, Ninon took this mark of unreasonable spite +good naturedly, and replied by another quatrain based upon the same +rhyme as that of the disappointed suitor: + +"Insensible a tes feux, insensible a tes larmes, +Je te vois renoncer a mes faibles appas; + Mais si l'amour prete des charmes, + Pourquoi n'en empruntais-tu pas." + +Which is as much as to say in English: + +Caring naught for thy flame, caring naught for thy tear, +I see thee renounce my feeble allure; + But if love lends charms that endear, + By borrowing thou mightst some procure. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Effect of Her Mother's Death + + +It is not to be wondered at that a girl under such tutelage should +abandon herself wholly, both mind and body, to a philosophy so +contrary in its principles and practices to that which her mother had +always endeavored to instill into her young mind. The father was +absent fighting for Heaven alone knew which faction into which France +was broken up, there were so many of them, and the mother and daughter +lived apart, the disparity in their sentiments making it impossible +for them to do otherwise. For this reason, Ninon was practically her +own mistress, and not interfered with because the husband and wife +could not agree upon any definite course of life for her to follow. +Ninon's heart, however, had not lost any of its natural instincts, and +she loved her mother sincerely, a trait in her which all Paris learned +with astonishment when her mother was taken down with what proved to +be a fatal illness. + +Madame de l'Enclos, separated from both her husband and daughter, and +devoting her life to pious exercises, acquired against them the +violent prejudices natural in one who makes such a sacrifice upon the +altar of sentiment. The worldly life of her daughter gave birth in her +mind to an opinion which she deemed the natural consequence of it. +The love of pleasure, in her estimation, had destroyed every vestige +of virtue in her daughter's soul and her neglect of her religious +duties had converted her into an unnatural being. + +But she was agreeably diverted from her ill opinion when her malady +approached a dangerous stage. Ninon flew to heir mother's side as soon +as she heard of it, and without becoming an enemy of her philosophy of +pleasure, she felt it incumbent upon her to suspend its practice. +Friendship, liaisons, social duties, pleasure, everything ceased to +amuse her or give her any satisfaction. The nursing of her sick mother +engaged her entire attention, and her fervor in this dutiful +occupation astonished Madame de l'Enclos and softened her heart to the +extent of acknowledging her error and correcting her estimate of her +daughter's character. She loved her daughter devotedly and was happy +in the knowledge that she was as devotedly loved. But this was not the +kind of happiness that could prolong her days. + +Notwithstanding all her philosophy, Ninon could not bear the spectacle +presented by her dying parent. Her soul was rent with a grief which +she did not conceal, unashamed that philosophy was impotent to +restrain an exhibition of such a natural weakness. Moreover, her dying +mother talked to her long and earnestly, and with her last breath gave +her loving counsel that sank deep into her heart, already softened by +an uncontrollable sorrow and weakened by long vigils. + +Scarcely had Madame de l'Enclos closed her eyes upon the things of +earth, than Ninon conceived the project of withdrawing from the world +and entering a convent. The absence of her father left her absolute +mistress of her conduct, and the few friends who reached her, despite +her express refusal to see any one, could not persuade her to alter +her determination. Ninon, heart broken, distracted and desolate, threw +herself bodily into an obscure convent in the suburbs of Paris, +accepting it, in the throes of her sorrow, as her only refuge and home +on earth. + +Saint-Evremond, in a letter to the Duke d'Olonne, speaks of the +sentiment which is incentive to piety: + +"There are some whom misfortunes have rendered devout through a +certain kind of pity for themselves, a secret piety, strong enough to +dispose men to lead more religious lives." + +Scarron, one of Ninon's closest friends, in his Epistle to Sarrazin, +thus alludes to this conventual escapade: + +"Puis j'aurais su * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +Ce que l'on dit du bel et saint exemple +Que la Ninon donne a tous les mondains, +En se logeant avecque les nonais, +Combien de pleurs la pauvre jouvencelle +A repandus quand sa mere, sans elle, +Cierges brulants et portant ecussons, +Pretres chantant leurs funebres chanson, +Voulut aller de linge enveloppee +Servir aux vers d'une franche lippee." + +Which, translated into reasonable English, is as much as saying: + +But I might have known * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +* * * * * * * * * * +What they say of the example, so holy, so pure, +That Ninon gives to worldlings all, +By dwelling within a nunnery's wall. +How many tears the poor lorn maid +Shed, when her mother, alone, unafraid, +Mid flaming tapers with coats of arms, +Priests chanting their sad funereal alarms, +Went down to the tomb in her winding sheet +To serve for the worms a mouthful sweet. + +But the most poignant sorrow of the human heart is assuaged by time. +Saint-Evremond and Marion de Lormes, Richelieu's "belle amie," +expected to profit by the calm which they knew would not be long in +stealing over the heart of their friend. Marion, however, despaired of +succeeding through her own personal influence, and enlisted the +sympathies of Saint-Evremond, who knew Ninon's heart too well to +imagine for a moment that the mournful, monotonous life she had +embraced would satisfy her very long. It was something to be admitted +to her presence and talk over matters, a privilege they were accorded +after some demur. The first step toward ransoming their friend was +followed by others until they finally made great strides through her +resolution. They brought her back in triumph to the world she had +quitted through a species of "frivolity," so they called it, of which +she was never again guilty as long as she lived. + +This episode in Ninon's life is in direct contrast with one which +occurred when the Queen Regent, Anne of Austria, listening to the +complaints of her jealous maids of honor, attempted to dispose of +Ninon's future by immuring her in a convent. Ninon's celebrity +attained such a summit, and her drawing rooms became so popular among +the elite of the French nobility and desirable youth, that sad inroads +were made in the entourage of the Court, nothing but the culls of +humanity being left for the ladies who patronized the royal functions. +In addition to this, she excited the envy and jealousy of a certain +class of women, whom Ninon called "Jansensists of love," because they +practiced in public the puritanic virtues which they did not even have +tact enough to render agreeable. It is conceivable that Ninon's +brilliant attractions, not to say seductive charms, and her +unparalleled power to attract to her society the brightest and best +men of the nation, engendered the most violent jealousy and hatred of +those whose feebler charms were ignored and relegated to the +background. The most bitter complaints and accusations were made +against her to the Queen Regent, who was beset on all sides by loud +outcries against the conduct of a woman whom they were powerless to +imitate, until, to quiet their clamors, she deemed it her duty to act. + +Anne of Austria accordingly sent Ninon, by special messenger, a +peremptory order to withdraw to a convent, giving her the power of +selection. At first Anne intended to send her to the convent of +Repentant Girls (Filles Repenties), but the celebrated Bauton, one of +the Oiseaux des Tournelles, who loved a good joke as well as he did +Ninon, told her that such a course would excite ridicule because Ninon +was neither a girl nor a repentant (ni fille, ni repentie), for which +reason, the order was changed leaving Ninon to her own choice of a +prison. + +Ninon knew the source of the order, and foresaw that her numerous +distinguished admirers would not have any difficulty in protecting +her, and persuading the Queen Regent to rescind her order, and +therefore gave herself no concern, receiving the order as a +pleasantry. + +"I am deeply sensible of the goodness of the court in providing for my +welfare and in permitting me to select my place of retreat, and +without hesitation, I decide in favor of the Grands Cordeliers." + +Now it so happened that the Grands Cordeliers was a monastery +exclusively for men, and from which women were rigidly excluded. +Moreover, the morals of the holy brotherhood was not of the best, as +the writers of their history during that period unanimously testify. +M. de Guitaut, the captain of the Queen's guard, who had been +intrusted with the message, happened to be one of the "Birds," and he +assured the Regent that it was nothing but a little pleasantry on the +part of Ninon, who merited a thousand marks of approval and +commendation for her sterling and brilliant qualities of mind and +heart rather than punishment or even censure. + +The only comment made by the Queen Regent was: "Fie, the nasty +thing!" accompanied by a fit of laughter. Others of the "Birds" came +to the rescue, among them the Duc d'Enghien, who was known not to +value his esteem for women lightly. The matter was finally dropped, +Anne of Austria finding means to close the mouths of the envious. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Her Increasing Popularity + + +Ninon's return to the gayeties of her drawing rooms was hailed with +loud acclamations from all quarters. The envy and jealousy of her +female enemies, the attempt to immure her in a convent, and her +selection of the Grands Cordeliers as her place of retreat, brought +her new friends and admirers through the notoriety given her, and all +Paris resounded with the fame of her spirit, her wit, and her +philosophy. + +Ladies of high rank sought admission into her charming circle, many of +them, it is to be imagined, because they possessed exaggerated ideas +of her influence at court. Had she not braved the Queen Regent with +impunity? Her drawing rooms soon became the center of attraction and +were nightly crowded with the better part of the brilliant society of +Paris. Ninon was the acknowledged guide and leader, and all submitted +to her sway without the slightest envy or jealousy, and it may also be +said, without the slightest compunctions or remorse of conscience. + +The affair with the Queen Regent had one good effect, it separated the +desirable from the undesirable in the social scale, compelling the +latter to set up an establishment of their own as a counter +attraction, and as their only hope of having any society at all. They +established a "little court" at the Hotel Rambouillet, where +foppishness was a badge of distinction, and where a few narrow minded, +starched moralists, poisoned metaphysics and turned the sentiments of +the heart into a burlesque by their affectation and their unrefined, +even vulgar attempts at gallantry. They culled choice expressions and +epigrams from the literature of the day, employing their memories to +conceal their paucity of original wit, and practised upon their +imaginations to obtain a salacious philosophy, which consisted of +sodden ideas, flat in their expression, stale and unattractive in +their adaptation. + +Ninon's coterie was the very opposite, consisting as it did of the +very flower of the nobility and the choicest spirits of the age, who +banished dry and sterile erudition, and sparkled with the liveliest +wit and polite accomplishments. There were some who eluded the +vigilance of Ninon's shrewd scrutiny, and made their way into her +inner circle, but they were soon forced to abandon their pretensions +by their inability to maintain any standing among a class of men who +were so far beyond them in rank and attainments. + +Not long after her return to the pleasures of society, after the +convent episode, Ninon was called upon to mourn the demise of her +father. M. de l'Enclos was one of the fortunate men of the times who +escaped the dangers attendant upon being on the wrong side in +politics. For some inscrutable reason, he took sides with Cardinal de +Retz, and on that account was practically banished from Paris and +compelled to be satisfied with the rough annoyances of camp life +instead of being able to put in practice the pleasant precepts of his +philosophy. He was finally permitted to return to Paris with his head +safe upon his shoulders, and flattered himself with the idea that he +could now make up for lost time, promising himself to enjoy to the +full the advantages offered by his daughter's establishment. He +embraced his daughter with the liveliest pleasure imaginable, taking +upon himself all the credit for her great reputation as due to his +efforts and to his philosophical training. He was flattered at the +success of his lessons and entered upon a life of joyous pleasure with +as much zest as though in the bloom of his youth. It proved too much +for a constitution weakened by the fatigues of years of arduous +military campaigns and he succumbed, the flesh overpowered by the +spirit, and took to his bed, where he soon reached a condition that +left his friends no hope of his recuperation. + +Aware that the end was approaching, he sent for his daughter, who +hastened to his side and shed torrents of tears. But he bade her +remember the lessons she had learned from his philosophy, and wishing +to give her one more lesson, said in an almost expiring voice: + +"Approach nearer, Ninon; you see nothing left me but a sad memory of +the pleasures that are leaving me. Their possession was not of long +duration, and that is the only complaint I have to make against +nature. But, alas! my regrets are vain. You who must survive me, +utilize precious time, and have no scruples about the quantity of your +pleasures, but only of their quality." + +Saying which, he immediately expired. The philosophical security +exhibited by her father in his very last moments, inspired Ninon with +the same calmness of spirit, and she bore his loss with equanimity, +disdaining to exhibit any immoderate grief lest she dishonor his +memory and render herself an unworthy daughter and pupil. + +The fortune left her by her father was not so considerable as Ninon +had expected. It had been very much diminished by extravagance and +speculation, but as she had in mind de la Rochefoucauld's maxim: +"There are some good marriages, but no delicious ones," and did not +contemplate ever wearing the chains of matrimony, she deposited her +fortune in the sinking funds, reserving an income of about eight +thousand livres per annum as sufficient to maintain her beyond the +reach of want. From this time on she abandoned herself to a life of +pleasure, well regulated, it must be confessed, and in strict +accordance with her Epicurean ideas. Her light heartedness increased +with her love and devotion to pleasure, which is not astonishing, as +there are privileged souls who do not lose their tender emotions by +such a pursuit, though those souls are rare. Ninon's unrestrained +freedom, and the privilege she claimed to enjoy all the rights which +men assumed, did not give her the slightest uneasiness. It was her +lovers who became anxious unless they regulated their love according +to the rules she established for them to follow, rules which it can +not be denied, were held in as much esteem then as nowadays. The +following anecdote will serve as an illustration: + +The Marquis de la Chatre had been one of her lovers for an +unconscionably long period, but never seemed to cool in his fidelity. +Duty, however, called him away from Ninon's arms, but he was +distressed with the thought that his absence would be to his +disadvantage. He was afraid to leave her lest some rival should appear +upon the scene and dispossess him in her affections. Ninon vainly +endeavored to remove his suspicions. + +"No, cruel one," he said, "you will forget and betray me. I know your +heart, it alarms me, crushes me. It is still faithful to my love, I +know, and I believe you are not deceiving me at this moment. But that +is because I am with you and can personally talk of my love. Who will +recall it to you when I am gone? The love you inspire in others, +Ninon, is very different from the love you feel. You will always be in +my heart, and absence will be to me a new fire to consume me; but to +you, absence is the end of affection. Every object I shall imagine I +see around you will be odious to me, but to you they will be +interesting." + +Ninon could not deny that there was truth in the Marquis' logic, but +she was too tender to assassinate his heart which she knew to be so +loving. Being a woman she understood perfectly the art of +dissimulation, which is a necessary accomplishment, a thousand +circumstances requiring its exercise for the sake of her security, +peace, and comfort. Moreover, she did not at the moment dream of +deceiving him; there was no present occasion, nobody else she had in +mind. Ninon thought rapidly, but could not find any reason for +betraying him, and therefore assured him of her fidelity and +constancy. + +Nevertheless, the amorous Marquis, who might have relied upon the +solemn promise of his mistress, had it not been for the intense fears +which were ever present in his mind, and becoming more violent as the +hour for his departure drew nearer, required something more +substantial than words. But what could he exact? Ah! an idea, a novel +expedient occurred to his mind, one which he imagined would restrain +the most obstinate inconstancy. + +"Listen, Ninon, you are without contradiction a remarkable woman. If +you once do a thing you will stand to it. What will tend to quiet my +mind and remove my fears, ought to be your duty to accept, because my +happiness is involved and that is more to you than love; it is your +own philosophy, Ninon. Now, I wish you to put in writing that you will +remain faithful to me, and maintain the most inviolable fidelity. I +will dictate it in the strongest form and in the most sacred terms +known to human promises. I will not leave you until I have obtained +such a pledge of your constancy, which is necessary to relieve my +anxiety, and essential to my repose." + +Ninon vainly argued that this would be something too strange and +novel, foolish, in fact, the Marquis was obstinate and finally +overcame her remonstrances. She wrote and signed a written pledge +such as no woman had ever executed, and fortified with this pledge, +the Marquis hastened to respond to the call of duty. + +Two days had scarcely elapsed before Ninon was besieged by one of the +most dangerous men of her acquaintance. Skilled in the art of love, he +had often pressed his suit, but Ninon had other engagements and would +not listen to him. But now, his rival being out of the field, he +resumed his entreaties and increased his ardor. He was a man to +inspire love, but Ninon resisted, though his pleading touched her +heart. Her eyes at last betrayed her love and she was vanquished +before she realized the outcome of the struggle. + +What was the astonishment of the conqueror, who was enjoying the +fruits of his victory, to hear Ninon exclaim in a breathless voice, +repeating it three times: "Ah! Ah! le bon billet qu'a la Chatre!" (Oh, +the fine bond that la Chatre has.) + +Pressed for an explanation of the enigma, Ninon told him the whole +story, which was too good to keep secret, and soon the "billet de la +Chatre" became, in the mouth of everybody, a saying applied to things +upon which it is not wise to rely. Voltaire, to preserve so charming +an incident, has embalmed it in his comedy of la Prude, act I, scene +III. Ninon merely followed the rule established by Madame de Sevigne: +"Les femmes ont permission d'etre faibles, et elles se servent sans +scrupule de ce privilege." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Ninon's Friendships + + +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos never forgot a friend in a lover, indeed, the +trait that stands out clear and strong in her character, is her whole +hearted friendship for the men she loved, and she bestowed it upon +them as long as they lived, for she outlived nearly all of them, and +cherished their memories afterward. As has been said, Ninon de +l'Enclos was Epicurean in the strictest sense, and did not rest her +entire happiness on love alone, but included a friendship which went +to the extent of making sacrifices. The men with whom she came in +contact from time to time during her long life, were nothing to her +from a pecuniary point of view, for she possessed an income +sufficiently large to satisfy her wants and to maintain the social +establishment she never neglected. + +There was never, either directly or indirectly, any money +consideration asked or expected in payment of her favors, and the man +who would have dared offer her money as a consideration for anything, +would have met with scorn and contempt and been expelled from her +house and society without ever being permitted to regain either. The +natural wants of her heart and mind, and what she was pleased to call +the natural gratifications of physical wants, were her mentors, and to +them she listened, never dreaming of holding them at a pecuniary +value. + +One of her dearest friends was Scarron, once the husband of Madame de +Maintenon, the pious leader of a debased court and the saintly +mistress of the king of France. In his younger days, Scarron +contributed largely to the pleasures of the Oiseaux des Tournelles, +the ecclesiastical collar he then wore not being sufficient to prevent +his enjoying worldly pleasures. + +In the course of time Scarron fell ill, and was reduced to a dreadful +condition, no one coming to his succor but Ninon. Like a tender, +compassionate friend, she sympathized deeply with him, when he was +carried to the suburb Saint Germain to try the effects of the baths as +an alleviation of his pains. Scarron did not complain, on the +contrary, he was cheerful and always gay even when suffering tortures. +There was little left of him, however, but an indomitable spirit +burning in a crushed tenement of mortal clay. Not being able to come +to her, Ninon went to him, and passed entire days at his side. Not +only that, she brought her friends with her and established a small +court around his bed, thus cheering him in his pain and doing him a +world of good, which finally enabled his spirit to triumph over his +mortal shell. + +Instances might be multiplied, enough to fill a volume, of her +devotion to her friends, whom she never abandoned and whom she was +always ready with purse and counsel to aid in their difficulties. A +curious instance is that of Nicolas Vauquelin, sieur de Desyvetaux, +whom she missed from her circle for several days. Aware that he had +been having some family troubles, and that his fortune was menaced, +she became alarmed, thinking that perhaps some misfortune had come +upon him, for which reason she resolved to seek him and help him out +of his difficulties. But Ninon was mistaken in supposing that so wise +and gay an Epicurean could be crushed by any sorrow or trouble. +Desyvetaux was enjoying himself in so singular a fashion that it is +worth telling. + +This illustrious Epicurean, finding one night a young girl in a +fainting condition at his door, brought her into his house to succor +her, moved by an impulse of humanity. But as soon as she had recovered +her senses, the philosopher's heart was touched by her beauty. To +please her benefactor the girl played several selections on a harp and +accompanied the instrument with a charming and seductive voice. + +Desyvetaux, who was a passionate admirer of music, was captivated by +this accomplishment, and suddenly conceived the desire to spend the +rest of his days in the company of this charming singer. It was not +difficult for a girl who had been making it her business to frequent +the wineshops of the suburbs with a brother, earning a precarious +living by singing and playing on the harp, to accept such a +proposition, and consent to bestow happiness upon an excessively +amorous man, who offered to share with her a luxurious and tranquil +life in one of the finest residences in the suburb Saint Germain. + +Although most of his life had been passed at court as the governor of +M. de Vendome, and tutor of Louis XIII, he had always desired to lead +a life of peace and quiet in retirement. The pleasures of a sylvan +life which he had so often described in his lectures, ended by leading +his mind in that direction. The young girl he found on his doorstep +had offered him his first opportunity to have a Phyllis to his Corydon +and he eagerly embraced it. Both yielded to the fancy, she dressed in +the garb of a shepherdess, he playing the role of Corydon at the age +of seventy years. + +Sometimes stretched out on a carpet of verdure, he listened to the +enchanting music she drew from her instrument, or drank in the sweet +voice of his shepherdess singing melodious pastorals. A flock of +birds, charmed with this harmony, left their cages to caress with +their wings, Dupuis' harp, or intoxicated with joy, fluttered down +into her bosom. This little gallantry in which they had been trained +was a delicious spectacle to the shepherd philosopher and intoxicated +his senses. He fancied he was guiding with his mistress innumerable +bands of intermingled sheep; their conversation was in tender eclogues +composed by them both extemporaneously, the attractive surroundings +inspiring them with poetry. + +Ninon was amazed when she found her "bon homme," as she called him, in +the startlingly original disguise of a shepherd, a crook in his hand, +a wallet hanging by his side, and a great flapping straw hat, trimmed +with rose colored silk on his head. Her first impression was that he +had taken leave of his senses, and she was on the point of shedding +tears over the wreck of a once brilliant mind, when Desyvetaux, +suspending his antics long enough to look about him, perceived her and +rushed to her side with the liveliest expressions of joy. He removed +her suspicions of his sanity by explaining his metamorphosis in a +philosophical fashion: + +"You know, my dear Ninon, there are certain tastes and pleasures which +find their justification in a certain philosophy when they bear all +the marks of moral innocence. Nothing can be said against them but +their singularity. There are no amusements less dangerous than those +which do not resemble those generally indulged in by the multitude." + +Ninon was pleased with the amiable companion of her old friend. Her +figure, her mental attainments, and her talents enchanted her, and +Desyvetaux, who appeared in a ridiculous light when she first saw him +in his masquerade, now seemed to her to be on the road to happiness. +She made no attempt to persuade him to return to his former mode of +life, which she could not avoid at this moment, however, as +considering more agreeable than the new one he had adopted. But what +could she offer in the way of superior seductive pleasures to a pair +who had tasted pure and natural enjoyments? The vain amusements and +allurements of the world have no sympathy with anything but +dissipation, in which, the mind, yielding to the fleeting seductions +of art, leaves the heart empty as soon as the illusion disappears. + +The strange conduct of Desyvetaux gave birth to numerous reflections +of this nature in Ninon's mind, but she did not cease to be his +friend, on the contrary, she entered into the spirit of his simple +life and visited him from time to time to enjoy the spectacle of such +a tender masquerade which Desyvetaux continued up to the time of his +death. It gave Mademoiselle Dupuis nearly as much celebrity as her +lover attained, for when the end came, she obeyed his desire to play a +favorite dance on her harp, to enable his soul to take flight in the +midst of its delicious harmony. It should be mentioned, that +Desyvetaux wore in his hat as long as he lived, a yellow ribbon, "out +of love for the gentle Ninon who gave it to me." + +Socrates advises persons of means to imitate the swans, which, +realizing the benefit of an approaching death, sing while in their +death agony. The Abbe Brantome relates an interesting story of the +death of Mademoiselle de Lineul, the elder, one of the queen's +daughters, which resembles that of Desyvetaux. + +"When the hour of her death had arrived," says Brantome, "Mademoiselle +sent for her valet, Julian, who could play the violin to perfection. +'Julian,' quoth she, 'take your violin and play on it until you see me +dead--for I am going--the Defeat of the Swiss, and play it as well as +you know how; and when you shall reach the words "tout est perdu," +play it over four or five times as piteously as you can:' which the +other did. And when he came to 'tout est perdu' she sang it over +twice; then turning to the other side of the couch, she said to those +who stood around: 'Tout est perdu a ce coup et a bon escient;' all is +lost this time, sure.'" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Some of Ninon's Lovers + + +Notwithstanding her love of pleasure, and her admiration for the +society of men, Ninon was never vulgar or common in the distribution +of her favors, but selected those upon whom she decided to bestow +them, with the greatest care and discrimination. As has been already +said, she discovered in early life, that women were at a discount, and +she resolved to pursue the methods of men in the acceptance or +rejection of friendship, and in distributing her favors and +influences. As she herself declared: + +"I soon saw that women were put off with the most frivolous and unreal +privileges, while every solid advantage was retained by the stronger +sex. From that moment I determined on abandoning my own sex and +assuming that of the men." + +So well did she carry out this determination that she was regarded by +her masculine intimates as one of themselves, and whatever pleasures +they enjoyed in her society, were enjoyed upon the same principle as +they would have delighted in a good dinner, an agreeable theatrical +performance, or exquisite music. + +To her and to all her associates, love was a taste emanating from the +senses, a blind sentiment which assumes no merit in the object which +gives it birth, as is the case of hunger, thirst, and the like. In a +word, it was merely a caprice the domination of which depends upon +ourselves, and is subject to the discomforts and regrets attendant +upon repletion or indulgence. + +After her first experience with de Coligny, which was an abandonment +of her cold philosophy for a passionate attachment she thought would +endure forever, Ninon cast aside all that element in love which is +connected with passion and extravagant sentiment, and adhered to her +philosophical understanding of it, and kept it in its proper place in +the category of natural appetites. To illustrate her freedom from +passionate attachments in the distribution of her favors, the case of +her friend Scarron will give an insight into her philosophy. Scarron +had received numerous favors from her, and being one of her select +"Birds," who had always agreed with la Rochefoucauld that, "There are +many good marriages but none that are delicious," she assumed that her +friend would never entangle himself in the bonds of matrimony. But he +did and to his sorrow. + +When Ninon had returned to Paris after a long sojourn with the Marquis +de Villarceaux, she found to her astonishment that Scarron had married +the amiable but ignoble Mademoiselle d'Aubigne. This young lady was in +a situation which precluded all hope of her ever attaining social +eminence, but aspiring to rise, notwithstanding her common origin, she +married Scarron as the first step upon the social ladder. Without +realizing that this woman was to become the celebrated Madame de +Maintenon, mistress of the king and the real power behind the throne, +Ninon took her in charge and they soon became the closest and most +affectionate friends, always together even occupying the same bed. +Ninon's tender friendship for the husband continued in spite of his +grave violation of the principles of his accepted philosophy, and when +he was deserted, sick and helpless, she went to him and brought him +cheer and comfort. + +Ninon was so little imbued with jealousy that when she discovered a +liaison between her own lover, Marquis de Villarceaux and her friend, +Madame Scarron, she was not even angry. The two were carrying on their +amour in secret, and as they supposed without Ninon's knowledge, whose +presence, indeed, they deemed a restraint upon their freedom of +action. The Marquis considered himself a traitor to Ninon, and Madame +Scarron stood in fear of her reproaches for her betrayal. But Ninon, +instead of taking either of them to task, as she would have been +justified in doing, gently remonstrated with them for their secrecy, +and by her kindness reassured both of them and relieved them from +their embarrassment, making them understand that she desired nothing +so much as their happiness. Both the Marquis and his mistress made +Ninon their confidante, and thereafter lived in perfect amity until +the lovers grew tired of each other, Madame Scarron aiming higher than +an ordinary Marquis, now that she saw her way clear to mounting the +social ladder. + +It was perhaps due to Ninon's kindness in the Villarceaux episode, +that enabled her to retain the friendship of Madame de Maintenon when +the latter had reached the steps of the throne. The mistress of +royalty endeavored to persuade Ninon to appear at court but there was +too great a difference in temper and constitution between the two +celebrated women to admit of any close relations. Ninon made use of +the passion of love for the purpose of pleasure only, while her more +exalted rival made it subservient to her ambitious projects, and did +not hesitate with that view to cloak her licentious habits beneath the +mantle of religion, and add hypocrisy to frailty. The income of Ninon +de l'Enclos was agreeably and judiciously spent in the society of men +of wit and letters, but the revenues of the Marchioness de Maintenon +were squandered on the useless decoration of her own person, or +hoarded for the purpose of elevating into rank and notice an +insignificant family, who had no other claim to such distinction than +that derived from the easy honesty of a female relation, and the +dissolute extravagance of a vain and licentious sovereign. + +While Ninon de l'Enclos was receiving and encouraging the attentions +of the most distinguished men of her time, literati, nobles, warriors, +statesmen, and sages, in her house in the Rue des Tournelles, the +mistress of the sovereign, the dear friend who had betrayed her to the +Marquis de Villarceaux, was swallowing, at Versailles, the adulations +of degraded courtiers of every rank and profession. There were met +together there the vain and the ambitious, the designing and the +foolish, the humblest and the proudest of those who, whether proud or +humble, or ambitious, or vain, or crafty, were alike the devoted +servants of the monarch or the monarch's mistress--princes, cardinals, +bishops, dukes and every kind of nobility, excisemen and priests, +keepers of the royal conscience and necessary--all ministers of filth, +each in his degree, from the secretaries of state to the lowest +underlings in office--clerks of the ordnance, victualing, stamps, +customs, colonies, and postoffice, farmers and receivers general, +judges and cooks, confessors and every other caterer to the royal +appetite. This was the order of things that Ninon de l'Enclos was +contending against, and that she succeeded by methods that must be +considered saintly compared with the others, stands recorded in the +pages of history. + +After Ninon had suffered from the indiscretion of the lover who made +public the story of the famous pledge given la Chatre, she lost her +fancy for the recreant, and though friendly, refused any closer tie. +He knew that he had done Ninon an injury and begged to be reinstated +in her favor. He was of charming manners and fascinating in his +pleading, but he made no impression on her heart. She agreed to pardon +him for his folly and declined to consider the matter further. Nor +would she return to the conversation, although he persisted in +referring to the matter as one he deeply regretted. When he was +departing after Ninon had assured him of her pardon, she ran after him +and called out as he was descending the stairs: "At least, Marquis, +we have not been reconciled." + +Her good qualities were embalmed in the literature of the day, very +few venturing to lampoon her. Those who did so were greeted with so +much derisive laughter that they were ashamed to appear in society +until the storm had blown over. + +M. de Tourielle, a member of the French Academy, and a very learned +man, became enamored of her and his love-making assumed a curious +phase. To show her that he was worthy of her consideration, he deemed +it incumbent upon him to read her long dissertations on scientific +subjects, and bored her incessantly with a translation of the orations +of Demosthenes, which he intended dedicating to her in an elaborate +preface. This was more than Ninon could bear with equanimity--a lover +with so much erudition, and his prosy essays, appealed more to her +sense of humor than to her sentiments of love, and he was laughed out +of her social circle. This angered the Academician and he thought to +revenge himself by means of an epigram in which he charged Ninon with +admiring figures of rhetoric more than a sensible academic discourse +full of Greek and Latin quotations. It would have proved the ruin of +the poor man had Ninon not come to his rescue, and explained to him +the difference between learning and love. After which he became +sensible and wrote some very good books. + +It should be understood that Ninon had no secrets in which her merry +and wise "Birds" did not share. She confided to them all her love +affairs, gave them the names of her suitors, in fact, every wooer was +turned over to this critical, select society, as a committee of +investigation into quality and merit both of mind and body. In this +way she was protected from the unworthy, and when she made a +selection, they respected her freedom of choice, carefully guarding +her lover and making him one of themselves after the fitful fever was +over. They were all graduates in her school, good fellows, and had +accepted Ninon's philosophy without question. + +Her lovers were always men of rank and station or of high talents, but +she was caught once by the dazzle of a famous dancer named Pecour, who +pleased her exceedingly, and who became the fortunate rival of the Duc +de Choiseul, afterward a marshal of France. It happened that Choiseul +was more remarkable for his valor than for his probity and solid +virtues, and could not inspire in Ninon's heart anything but the +sterile sentiments of esteem and respect. He was certainly worthy of +these, but he was too cold in his amorous desires to please Ninon. + +"He is a very worthy gentleman," said she, "but he never gives me a +chance to love him." + +The frequent visits of Pecour excited the jealousy of the warrior, but +he did not dare complain, not knowing whether things had reached a +climax and fearing that if he should mention the matter he might help +them along instead of stopping them. One day, however, he attempted to +goad his unworthy rival into some admission, and received a response +that was enough to settle his doubts. + +Pecour was in the habit of wearing a costume much resembling that of +the military dandies of the period. Choiseul meeting him in this +equivocal garb, proceeded to be funny at his expense by putting to him +all sorts of ironical and embarrassing questions. But Pecour felt all +the vanity of a successful rival and was good natured. Then the Duke +began to make sneering remarks which roused the dancer's anger. + +"Pray, what flag are you fighting under, and what body do you +command?" asked Monseigneur with a sarcastic smile. + +Quick as a flash came the answer which gave the Duke an inkling into +the situation. + +"Je commande un corps ou vous servez depuis longtemps," replied +Pecour. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Ninon's Lovers--Continued + + +A counter attraction has been referred to in speaking of the Hotel +Rambouillet, where a fashionable court was established for the purpose +of drawing away from Ninon the elite who flocked to her standard. +Mademoiselle de Scudery gives a fine description of this little court +at Rambouillet in her romance, entitled "Cyrus." There was not and +could not be any rivalry between the court in the Rue des Tournelles +and that at Rambouillet, for the reason that Ninon's coterie consisted +of men exclusively, while that of Rambouillet was thronged with women. +But this, quite naturally, occasioned much envy and jealousy among the +ladies who devised all sorts of entertainments to attract masculine +society. One of their performances was the famous "Julia Garland," so +named in honor of Mademoiselle de Rambouillet, who was known by the +name of "Julie d'Angennes." Each one selected a favorite flower, wrote +a sonnet in its praise, and when all were ready, they stood around +Mademoiselle de Rambouillet in a circle and alternately recited the +poem, the reward for the best one being the favor of some fair lady. +Among those who were drawn to the Hotel Rambouillet by this pleasing +entertainment was the Duke d'Enghien, afterward known as the "Great +Conde," a prince of the highest renown as a victorious warrior. He +was a great acquisition, and the Garland Play was repeated every night +in the expectation that his pleasure would continue, and the constant +attraction prove adequate to hold him. Once or twice, however, was +sufficient for the Duke, its constant repetition becoming flat and +tiresome. He did not scruple to express his dissatisfaction with a +society that could not originate something new. He was a broad minded +man, with a comprehensive knowledge, but had little taste for poetry +and childish entertainments. But the good ladies of Rambouillet, +unable to devise any other entertainment, persisted in their Garland +Play, until the Duke's human nature rebelled at the monotony, and he +begged his friends de Moissens and Saint-Evremond to suggest some +relief. They immediately brought him in touch with the Birds of the +Tournelles, with the result that he abandoned the Hotel Rambouillet +and found scope for his social desires at Ninon's house and in her +more attractive society. The conquest of his heart followed that of +his intelligence, the hero of Rocroi being unable to resist a +tenderness which is the glory of a lover and the happiness of his +mistress. + +It is a curious fact, known to some, that all the heroes of Bellona +are not expert in the wars of Venus, the strongest and most valiant +souls being weak in combats in which valor plays an unimportant part. +The poet Chaulieu says upon this point: + +"Pour avoir la valeur d'Hercule, +On n'est pas oblige d'en avoir la vigueur." + +(To have the valor of Hercules, one need not have his vigor.) + +The young Prince was born to attain immortal glory on the field of +Mars. To that all his training had tended, but notwithstanding his +robust physique, and the indicia of great strength with which nature +had endowed him, he was a weakling in the field of Venus. He came +within the category of a Latin proverb with which Ninon was familiar: +"Pilosus aut fortis, aut libidinosus." (A hairy man is either strong +or sensual.) Wherefore, one day when Ninon was enjoying his society, +she looked at him narrowly and exclaimed: "Ah, Monseigneur, il faut +que vous soyez bien fort!" (Ah, Monseigneur, you must be very strong.) + +Notwithstanding this, the two dwelt together for a long time in +perfect harmony, the intellectual benefit the Duke derived from the +close intimacy being no less than the pleasure he derived from her +affection. Naturally inclined to deserve the merit and esteem as well +as the love of her admirers, Ninon used all the influence she +possessed to regulate their lives and to inspire them with the true +desire to perform faithfully the duties of their rank and station. +What power over her intimates does not possess a charming woman +disembarrassed of conventional prudery, but vested with grace, high +sentiments, and mental attainments! It was through the gentle exercise +of this power that the famous Aspasia graved in the soul of Pericles +the seductive art of eloquent language, and taught him the most solid +maxims of politics, maxims of which he made so noble a use. + +The young Duke, penetrated with love and esteem for Ninon, passed at +her side every moment he could steal away from the profound studies +and occupations required by his rank and position. Although he +afterward became the Prince de Conde, the Lion of his time, and the +bulwark of France, he never ceased expressing for her the liveliest +gratitude and friendship. Whenever he met her equipage in the streets +of Paris, he never failed to descend from his own and go to pay her +the most affectionate compliments. + +The Prince de Marsillac, afterward the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, less +philosophical then than later in life, and who prided himself on his +acquaintance with all the vices and follies of youth, could not long +withhold his admiration for the solid and estimable qualities he +perceived in Ninon, whom he often saw in the company of the Duke +d'Enghein. The result of his admiration was that he formed a tender +attachment which lasted as long as he lived. It was Ninon who +continued the good work begun by Madame de La Fayette, who confessed +that her social relations with la Rochefoucauld had been the means of +embellishing her mind, and that in compensation for this great service +she had reformed his heart. Whatever share Madame de La Fayette may +have had in reforming the heart of this great man, it is certain that +Ninon de l'Enclos had much to do with reforming his morals and +elevating his mind up to the point it is evident he reached, to judge +from his "Maxims," in which the human heart is bared as with a scalpel +in the most skilfully devised epigrams that never cease to hold the +interest of every reader. + +Chapelle, the most celebrated voluptuary in Paris, did everything in +his power to overcome Ninon's repugnance, but without success. There +was nothing lacking in his mental attainments, for he was a poet of +very high order, inimitable in his style; moreover, he was presentable +in his person. Yet he could not make the slightest impression on +Ninon's heart. He openly declared his love, and, receiving constant +rebuffs, resolved to have revenge and overcome her resistance by +punishing her. This he attempted to do in a very singular manner +without regard to consistency. + +All Paris knew his verses in which he did not conceal his ardent love +for Ninon, and in which were expressed the highest admiration for her +estimable qualities and the depth of her philosophy. He now proceeded +to take back everything good he had said about her and made fun of her +love, her friendship, and her attainments. He ridiculed her in every +possible manner, even charging up against her beauty, her age. A verse +or so will enable the reader to understand his methods: + +"Il ne faut pas qu'on s'etonne, +Si souvent elle raisonne +De la sublime vertu +Dont Platon fut revetu: +Car a bien compter son age, +Elle peut avoir vecu +Avec ce grand personnage." + +Or, substantially in the English language: + +Let no one be surprised, +If she should be advised +Of the virtue most renowned +In Plato to be found: +For, counting up her age, +She lived, 'tis reason sound, +With that great personage. + +Ninon had no rancor in her heart toward any one, much less against an +unsuccessful suitor, hence she only laughed at Chapelle's effusions +and all Paris laughed with her. The truth is, la Rochefoucauld had +impressed her mind with that famous saying of his: "Old age is the +hell of women," and not fearing any hell, reference to her age neither +alarmed her, nor caused the slightest flurry in her peaceful life. She +was too philosophical to regret the loss of what she did not esteem of +any value, and saw Chapelle slipping away from her with tranquillity +of mind. It was only during moments of gayety when she abandoned +herself to the play of an imagination always laughing and fertile, +that she repeated the sacrilegious wish of the pious king of Aragon, +who wished that he had been present at the moment of creation, when, +among the suggestions he could have given Providence, he would have +advised him to put the wrinkles of old age where the gods of Pagandom +had located the feeble spot in Achilles. + +If Ninon ever felt a pang on account of the ungenerous conduct of +Chapelle, his disciple, the illustrious Abbe de Chaulieu, the Anacreon +of the age, who was called, when he made his entree into the world of +letters "the poet of good fellowship," more than compensated her for +the injury done by his pastor. The Abbe was the Prior of Fontenay, +whither Ninon frequently accompanied Madame the Duchess de Bouillon +and the Chevalier d'Orleans. The Duchess loved to joke at the expense +of the Abbe, and twit him about his wasted talents, which were more +adapted to love than to his present situation. It may be that the +worthy Abbe, after thinking over seriously what was intended to be a +mere pleasantry, concluded that Madame the Duchess was right, and that +he possessed some talent in the direction of love. However that might, +have been, it is certain that he had cast an observant and critical +eye on Ninon, and he now openly paid her court, not unsuccessfully it +should be known. + +The Abbe Gedoyn was her last lover so far as there is any account of +her amours. The story is related by Remond, surnamed "The Greek," and +must be taken with a grain of salt as Ninon was at that time +seventy-nine years of age. This Remond, notwithstanding her age, had +made violent love to Ninon without meeting with any success. Perhaps +he was trying an experiment, being a learned man, anxious to ascertain +when the fire of passion became extinct in the human breast. Ninon +evidently suspected his ardent professions for she refused to listen +to him and forbade his visits altogether. + +"I was the dupe of his Greek erudition," she explained, "so I banished +him from my school. He was always wrong in his philosophy of the +world, and was unworthy of as sensible a society as mine." She often +added to this: "After God had made man, he repented him; I feel the +same about Remond." + +But to return to the Abbe Gedoyn: he left the Jesuits with the Abbe +Fraguier in 1694, that is to say, when Mademoiselle de l'Enclos was +seventy-eight years of age. Both of them immediately made the +acquaintance of Ninon and Madame de la Saliere, and, astonished at the +profound merit they discovered, deemed it to their advantage to +frequent their society for the purpose of adding to their talents +something which the study of the cloister and experience in the king's +cabinet itself had never offered them. Abbe Gedoyn became particularly +attached to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whose good taste and +intellectual lights he considered such sure and safe guides. His +gratitude soon received the additions of esteem and admiration, and +the young disciple felt the growth of desires which it is difficult to +believe were real, but which became so pressing, that they revived in +a heart nearly extinct a feeble spark of that fire with which it had +formerly burned. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos refused to accede to the +desires of her lover until she was fully eighty years of age, a term +which did not cool the ardor of the amorous Abbe, who waited +impatiently and on her eightieth birthday compelled his benefactress +to keep her word. + +This incident recalls the testimony of a celebrated Countess of +Salisbury, who was called to testify as an expert upon the subject of +love in a celebrated criminal case that was tried over a hundred years +ago in the English House of Lords. The woman correspondent was of an +age when human passion is supposed to be extinct, and her counsel was +attempting to prove that fact to relieve her from the charge. The +testimony of the aged Countess, who was herself over seventy-five +years of age, was very unsatisfactory, and the court put this question +to her demanding an explicit answer. + +"Madame," he inquired, "at what age does the sentiment, passion, or +desire of love cease in the female heart?" + +Her ladyship, who had lived long in high society and had been +acquainted with all of the gallants and coquettes of the English court +for nearly two generations, and who, herself, had sometimes been +suspected of not having been averse to a little waywardness, looked +down at her feet for a moment thoughtfully, then raising her eyes and +locking squarely into those of the judge, answered: + +"My Lord, you will have to ask a woman older than I." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The Villarceaux Affair + + +Party politics raged around Ninon, her "Birds" being men of high rank +and leaders with a large following. They were all her dearest friends, +however, and no matter how strong personal passion was beyond her +immediate presence, her circle was a neutral ground which no one +thought of violating. It required her utmost influence and tenderness, +however, to prevent outbreaks, but her unvarying sweetness of temper +and disposition to all won their hearts into a truce for her sake. +There were continual plots hatched against the stern rule of +Richelieu, cabals and conspiracies without number were entered upon, +but none of them resulted in anything. Richelieu knew very well what +was going on, and he realized perfectly that Ninon's drawing-rooms +were the center of every scheme concocted to drag him down and out of +the dominant position he was holding against the combined nobility of +France. But he never took a step toward suppressing her little court +as a hot-bed of restlessness, he rather encouraged her by his silence +and his indifference. Complaints of her growing coterie of uneasy +spirits brought nothing from him but: "As long as they find amusements +they are not dangerous." It was the forerunner of Napoleon's idea +along the same line: "We must amuse the people; then they will not +meddle with our management of the government." + +It is preposterous to think of this minister of peace, this restless +prelate, half soldier, half pastor, meddling in all these cabals and +seditious schemes organized for his own undoing, but nevertheless, he +was really the fomenter of all of them. They were his devices for +preventing the nobility from combining against him. He set one cabal +to watch another, and there was never a conspiracy entered into that +he did not prepare a similar conspiracy through his numerous secret +agents and thus split into harmless nothings and weak attempts what +would have been fatal to a continuance of his power. His tricks were +nothing but the ordinary everyday methods of the modern ward +politician making the dear people believe he is doing one thing when +he is doing another. The stern man pitted one antagonist against +another until both sued for peace and pardon. The nobility were honest +in their likes and dislikes, but they did not understand double +dealings and therefore the craft of Richelieu was not even suspected. + +Soon he corrupted by his secret intrigues the fidelity of the nobles +and destroyed the integrity of the people. Then it was, as Cyrano +says: "The world saw billows of scum vomited upon the royal purple and +upon that of the church." Vile rhyming poets, without merit or virtue, +sold their villainous productions to the enemies of the state to be +used in goading the people to riot. Obscene and filthy vaudevilles, +defamatory libels and infamous slanders were as common as bread, and +were hurled back and forth as evidence of an internecine strife which +was raging around the wearer of the Roman scarlet, who was thereby +justified in continuing his ecclesiastical rule to prevent the +wrecking of the throne. + +Ninon had always been an ardent supporter of the throne, and on that +account imagined herself to be the enemy of Richelieu. There were many +others who believed the same thing. They did not know that should the +great Cardinal withdraw his hand for a single moment there would not +be any more throne. When the human hornets around him became annoying +he was accustomed to pretend to withdraw his sustaining hand, then the +throne would tremble and totter, but he always came to the rescue; +indeed, there was no other man who could rescue it. Cabals, plots, and +conspiracies became so thick around Ninon at one period that she was +frightened. Scarron's house became a rendezvous for the factious and +turbulent. Madame Scarron was aiming at the throne, that is, she was +opening the way to capture the heart of the king. This was too much +for Ninon, who was more modest in her ambitions, and she fled +frightened. + +The Marquis de Villarceaux received her with open arms at his chateau +some distance from Paris, and that was her home for three years. There +were loud protests at this desertion from her coterie of friends, and +numerous dark threats were uttered against the gallant Marquis who had +thus captured the queen of the "Birds," but Ninon explained her +reason in such a plausible manner that their complaints subsided into +good-natured growls. She hoped to prevent a political conflagration +emanating from her social circle by scattering the firebrands, and she +succeeded admirably. The Marquis was constantly with her, permitting +nobody to intervene between them, and provided her with a perpetual +round of amusements that made the time pass very quickly. Moreover, +she was faithful to the Marquis, so wonderful a circumstance that her +friend and admirer wrote an elegy upon that circumstance, in which he +draws a picture of the pleasures of the ancients in ruralizing, but +reproaches Ninon for indulging in a passion for so long a period to +the detriment of her other friends and admirers. But Ninon was happy +in attaining the summit of her desire, which was to defeat Madame +Scarron, her rival in the affections of the Marquis, keeping the +latter by her side for three whole years as has already been said. + +However delighted Ninon may have been with this arrangement, the +Marquis, himself, did not repose upon a bed of roses. The jealousy of +the "Birds" gave him no respite, he being obliged in honor to respond +to their demands for an explanation of his conduct in carrying off +their leader, generally insisting upon the so-called field of honor as +the most appropriate place for giving a satisfactory answer. They even +invaded his premises until they forced him to make them some +concessions in the way of permission to see the object of their +admiration, and to share in her society. The Marquis was proud of his +conquest, the very idea of a three years' tete a tete with the most +volatile heart in France being sufficient to justify him in boasting +of his prowess, but whenever he ventured to do so a champion on the +part of Ninon always stood ready to make him either eat his words or +fight to maintain them. + +Madame Scarron, whom he so basely deserted for the superior charms of +her friend Ninon, often gave him a bad quarter of an hour. When she +became the mistress of the king and, as Madame de Maintenon, really +held the reins of power, visions of the Bastile thronged his brain. He +knew perfectly well that he had scorned the charms of Madame Scarron, +who believed them irresistible, and that he deserved whatever +punishment she might inflict upon him. She might have procured a +lettre de cachet, had him immured in a dungeon or his head removed +from his shoulders as easily as order a dinner, but she did nothing to +gratify a spirit of revenge, utterly ignoring his existence. + +Added to these trifling circumstances, trifling in comparison with +what follows, was the furious jealousy of his wife, Madame la +Marquise. She was violently angry and did not conceal her hatred for +the woman who had stolen her husband's affections. The Marquise was a +trifle vulgar and common in her manner of manifesting her displeasure, +but the Marquis, a very polite and affable gentleman, did not pay the +slightest attention to his wife's daily recriminations, but continued +to amuse himself with the charming Ninon. + +Under such circumstances each was compelled to have a separate social +circle, the Marquis entertaining his friends with the adorable Ninon +as the center of attraction, and Madame la Marquise doing her best to +offer counter attractions. Somehow, Ninon drew around her all the most +desirable partis among the flower of the nobility and wits, leaving +the social circle managed by la Marquise to languish for want of +stamina. It was a constant source of annoyance to the Marquise to see +her rival's entertainments so much in repute and her own so poorly +attended, and she was at her wits' end to devise something that would +give them eclat. One of her methods, and an impromptu scene at one of +her drawing-rooms, will serve to show the reason why Madame la +Marquise was not in good repute and why she could not attract the +elite of Paris to her entertainments. + +La Marquise was a very vain, moreover, a very ignorant woman, a +"nouvelle riche" in fact, or what might be termed in modern parlance +"shoddy," without tact, sense, or savoir faire. One day at a grand +reception, some of her guests desired to see her young son, of whom +she was very proud, and of whose talents and virtues she was always +boasting. He was sent for and came into the presence accompanied by +his tutor, an Italian savant who never left his side. From praising +his beauty of person, they passed to his mental qualities. Madame la +Marquise, enchanted at the caresses her son was receiving and aiming +to create a sensation by showing off his learning, took it into her +head to have his tutor put him through an examination in history. + +"Interrogate my son upon some of his recent lessons in history," said +she to the tutor, who was not at all loth to show his own attainments +by the brilliancy of his pupil. + +"Come, now, Monsieur le Marquis," said the tutor with alacrity, "Quem +habuit successorem Belus rex Assiriorum?" (Whom did Belus, king of the +Assyrians, have for successor?) + +It so happened that the tutor had taught the boy to pronounce the +Latin language after the Italian fashion. Wherefore, when the lad +answered "Ninum," who was really the successor of Belus, king of the +Assyrians, he pronounced the last two letters "um" like the French +nasal "on," which gave the name of the Assyrian king the same sound as +that of Ninon de l'Enclos, the terrible bete noir of the jealous +Marquise. This was enough to set her off into a spasm of fury against +the luckless tutor, who could not understand why he should be so +berated over a simple question and its correct answer. The Marquise +not understanding Latin, and guided only by the sound of the answer, +which was similar to the name of her hated rival, jumped at the +conclusion that he was answering some question about Ninon de +l'Enclos. + +"You are giving my son a fine education," she snapped out before all +her guests, "by entertaining him with the follies of his father. From +the answer of the young Marquis I judge of the impertinence of your +question. Go, leave my sight, and never enter it again." + +The unfortunate tutor vainly protested that he did not comprehend her +anger, that he meant no affront, that there was no other answer to be +made than "Ninum," unfortunately, again pronouncing the word "Ninon," +which nearly sent the lady into a fit of apoplexy with rage at hearing +the tabooed name repeated in her presence. The incensed woman carried +the scene to a ridiculous point, refusing to listen to reason or +explanation. + +"No, he said 'Ninon,' and Ninon it was." + +The story spread all over Paris, and when it reached Ninon, she +laughed immoderately, her friends dubbing her "The successor of +Belus." Ninon told Moliere the ridiculous story and he turned it to +profit in one of his comedies in the character of Countess +d'Escarbagnas. + +At the expiration of three years, peace had come to France after a +fashion, the cabals were not so frequent and the rivalry between the +factions not so bitter. Whatever differences there had been were +patched up or smoothed over. Ninon's return to the house in the Rue +des Tournelles was hailed with joy by her "Birds," who received her as +one returned from the dead. Saint-Evremond composed an elegy beginning +with these lines: + +Chere Philis, qu'etes vous devenues? +Cet enchanteur qui vous a retenue +Depuis trois ans par un charme nouveau +Vous retient-il en quelque vieux chateau? + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Marquis de Sevigne + + +It has been attempted to cast odium upon the memory of Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos because of her connection with the second Marquis de Sevigne, +son of the celebrated Madame de Sevigne, whose letters have been read +far and wide by those who fancy they can find something in them with +reference to the morals and practices of the court of Versailles +during her period. + +The Marquis de Sevigne, by a vitiated taste quite natural in men of +weak powers, had failed to discover in a handsome woman, spirited, +perhaps of too jealous a nature or disposition to be esteemed, the +proper sentiments, or sentiments strong enough to retain his +affections. He implored Ninon to aid him in preserving her affections +and to teach him how to secure her love. Ninon undertook to give him +instructions in the art of captivating women's hearts, to show him the +nature of love and its operations, and to give him an insight into the +nature of women. The Marquis profited by these lessons to fall in love +with Ninon, finding her a thousand times more charming than his +actress or his princess. Madame de Sevigne's letter referring to the +love of her son for Ninon testifies by telling him plainly "Ninon +spoiled your father," that this passion was not so much unknown to +her as it was a matter of indifference. + +The young Chevalier de Vasse often gave brilliant receptions in honor +of Ninon at Saint Cloud, which the Marquis de Sevigne always attended +as the mutual friend of both. De Vasse was well acquainted with +Ninon's peculiarities and knew that the gallantry of such a man as de +Sevigne was a feeble means of retaining the affections of a heart that +was the slave of nothing but its own fugitive desires. But he was a +man devoted to his friends and, being Epicurean in his philosophy, he +did not attempt to interfere with the affection he perceived growing +between Ninon and his friend. It never occurred to the Marquis that he +was guilty of a betrayal of friendship by paying court to Ninon, and +the latter took the Marquis' attentions as a matter of course without +considering the ingratitude of her conduct. She rather flattered +herself at having been sufficiently attractive to capture a man of de +Seine's family distinction. She had captured the heart of de Soigne, +the father, and had received so many animadversions upon her conduct +from Madame de Sevigne, that it afforded her great pleasure to "spoil" +the son as she had the father. + +But her satisfaction was short-lived, for she had the chagrin to learn +soon after her conquest that de Sevigne had perished on the field of +honor at the hands of Chevalier d'Albret. Her sorrow was real, of +course, but the fire lighted by the senses is small and not enduring, +and when the occasion arises regret is not eternalized, besides there +were others waiting with impatience. His successful rival out of the +way, de Vasse supposed he had a clear field, but he did not attain his +expected happiness. He was no longer pleasing to Ninon and she did no: +hesitate to make him understand that he could never hope to win her +heart. According to her philosophy there is nothing so shameful in a +tender friendship as the art of dissimulation. + +As has been said, much odium has been cast upon Mademoiselle de +l'Enclos in this de Sevigne matter. It all grew out of the dislike of +Madame de Sevigne for a woman who attracted even her own husband and +son from her side and heart, and for whom her dearest friends +professed the most intimate attachment. Madame de Grignan, the proud, +haughty daughter of the house of de Sevigne, did not scruple to array +herself on the side of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos with Madame de +Coulanges, another bright star among the noble and respectable +families of France. + +"Women have the privilege of being weak," says Madame de Sevigne, "and +they make use of that privilege without scruple." + +Women had never, before the time of Ninon, exercised their rights of +weakness to such an unlimited extent. There was neither honor nor +honesty to be found among them. They were common to every man who +attracted their fancy without regard to fidelity to any one in +particular. The seed sown by the infamous Catherine de Medici, the +utter depravity of the court of Charles IX, and the profligacy of +Henry IV, bore an astonishing supply of bitter fruit. The love of +pleasure had, so to speak, carried every woman off her feet, and there +was no limit to their abuses. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, while devoting +herself to a life of pleasure, followed certain philosophical rules +and regulations which removed from the unrestrained freedom of the +times the stigma of commonness and conferred something of +respectability upon practices that nowadays would be considered +horribly immoral, but which then were regarded as nothing uncommon, +nay, were legitimate and proper. The cavaliers cut one another's +throats for the love of God and in the cause of religion, and the +women encouraged the arts, sciences, literature, and the drama, by +conferring upon talent, wit, genius and merit favors which were deemed +conducive as encouragements to the growth of intellect and +spirituality. + +Ninon was affected by the spirit of the times, and being a woman, it +was impossible for her to resist desire when aided by philosophy and +force of example. Her intimacy with de Sevigne grew out of her attempt +to teach a young, vigorous, passionate man how to gain the love of a +cold-blooded, vain and conceited woman. Her letters will show the +various stages of her desires as she went along vainly struggling to +beat something like comprehension into the dull brain of a clod, who +could not understand the simplest principle of love, or the smallest +point in the female character. At last she resolved to use an argument +that was convincing with the brightest minds with whom she had ever +dealt, that is, the power of her own love, and if the Marquis had +lived, perhaps he might have become an ornament to society and an +honor to his family. + +To do this, however, she violated her compact with de Vasse, betrayed +his confidence and opened the way for the animadversions of Madame de +Sevigne. At that time de Sevigne was in love with an actress, +Mademoiselle Champmele, but desired to withdraw his affections, or +rather transfer them to a higher object, a countess, or a princess, as +the reader may infer from his mother's hints in one of her letters to +be given hereafter. To Ninon, therefore, he went for instruction and +advice as to the best course to pursue to get rid of one love and on +with a new. Madame de Sevigne and Madame de La Fayette vainly implored +him to avoid Ninon as he would the pest. The more they prayed and +entreated, the closer he came to Ninon until she became his ideal. +Ninon, herself was captivated by his pleasant conversation, agreeable +manners and seductive traits. She knew that he had had a love affair +with Champmele, the actress, and when she began to obtain an +ascendency over his mind, she wormed out of him all the letters he had +ever received from the comedienne. Some say it was jealousy on Ninon's +part, but any one who reads her letters to de Sevigne will see between +the lines a disposition on his part to wander away after a new +charmer. Others, however, say that she intended to send them to the +Marquis de Tonnerre, whom the actress had betrayed for de Sevigne. + +But Madame de Sevigne, to whom her son had confessed his folly in +giving up the letters, perhaps fearing to be embroiled in a +disgraceful duel over an actress, made him blush at his cruel +sacrifice of a woman who loved him, and made him understand that even +in dishonesty there were certain rules of honesty to be observed. She +worked upon his mind until he felt that he had committed a +dishonorable act, and when he had reached that point, it was easy to +get the letters away from Ninon partly by artifice, partly by force. +Madame de Sevigne tells the story in a letter to her daughter, Madame +de Grignan: + +"Elle (Ninon) voulut l'autre jour lui faire donner des lettres de la +comedienne (Champmele); il les lui donna; elle en etait jalouse; elle +voulait les donner a un amant de la princesse, afin de lui faire +donner quelque coups de baudrier. Il me le vint dire: je lui fis voir +que c'etait une infamie de couper ainsi la gorge a une petite creature +pour l'avoir aimer; je representai qu'elle n'avait point sacrifie ses +lettres, comme on voulait lui faire croire pour l'animer. Il entra +dans mes raisons; il courut chez Ninon, et moitie par adresse, et +moitie par force, il retira les lettres de cette pauvre diablesse." + +It was easy for a doting mother like Madame de Sevigne to credit +everything her son manufactured for her delectation. The dramatic +incident of de Sevigne taking letters from Ninon de l'Enclos partly by +ingenuity and partly by force, resembled his tale that he had left +Ninon and that he did not care for her while all the time they were +inseparable. He was truly a lover of Penelope, the bow of Ulysses +having betrayed his weakness. + +"The malady of his soul," says his mother, "afflicted his body. He +thought himself like the good Esos; he would have himself boiled in a +caldron with aromatic herbs to restore his vigor." + +But Ninon's opinion of him was somewhat different. She lamented his +untimely end, but did not hesitate to express her views. + +"He was a man beyond definition," was her panegyric. "He possessed a +soul of pulp, a body of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseed +in snow." + +She finally became ashamed of ever having loved him, and insisted that +they were never more than brother and sister. She tried to make +something out of him by exposing all the secrets of the female heart, +and initiating him in the mysteries of human love, but as she said: +"His heart was a pumpkin fricasseed in snow." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Family Tragedy + + +Some of Ninon's engagements following upon one another in quick +succession were the cause of an unusual disagreement, not to say +quarrel, between two rivals in her affections. A Marshal of France, +d'Estrees and the celebrated Abbe Deffiat disputed the right of +parentage, the dispute waxing warm because both contended for the +honor and could not see any way out of their difficulty, neither +consenting to make the slightest concession. Ninon, however, calmed +the tempest by suggesting a way out of the difficulty through the +hazard of the dice. Luck or good fortune for the waif declared in +favor of the warrior, who made a better guardian than the Abbe could +possibly have done, and brought him greater happiness. + +Ninon surrendered all her maternal rights in the child to the worthy +Marshal, who became in reality a tender and affectionate father to the +waif, cared for him tenderly and raised him up to a good position in +life. He placed him in the marine service, where, as the Chevalier de +la Bossiere, he reached the grade of captain of a vessel, and died at +an advanced age respected by his brother officers and by all who knew +him. He inherited some of the talents of his mother, particularly +music, in which he was remarkably proficient. His apartments at +Toulon, where he was stationed, were crowded with musical instruments +and the works of the greatest masters. All the musicians traveling +back and forth between Italy and France made his house their +headquarters. The Chevalier accorded them a generous welcome on all +occasions; the only return demanded was an exhibition of their +proficiency in instrumental music. + +The happiness of this son solaced Ninon for his unfortunate birth, and +it would have been happy for her had she never had a second. But her +profound love for the Chevalier de Gersay overcame any scruples that +might have arisen in her mind against again yielding to the maternal +instinct, and another son came to her, one who was destined to meet a +most horrible fate and cause her the most exquisite mental torture. + +This de Gersay, who was famous for the temerity of his passion for the +queen, Anne of Austria, a fact he announced from the housetops of +Paris in his delirium, was as happy as a king over the boy that came +to him so unexpectedly, and lavished upon him the most extravagant +affection. He took him to his heart and trained him up in all the +accomplishments taught those of the highest rank and most noble blood. +The boy grew up and received the name of Chevalier de Villiers, +becoming a credit to his father. + +His mother was beyond sixty years of age when de Villiers began to +enter society, and her beauty was still remarkable according to the +chronicles of the times and the allusions made to it in the current +literature. She was as attractive in her appearance, and as lovable as +at twenty years of age, few, even among the younger habitues of her +drawing-rooms being able to resist the charms of her person. Her house +was thronged with the elite of French society, young men of noble +families being designedly sent into her society to acquire taste, +grace, and polish which they were unable to acquire elsewhere. Ninon +possessed a singular genius for inspiring men with high and noble +sentiments, and her schooling in the art of etiquette was marvelous in +its details and perfection. Her power was practically a repetition of +the history of the Empress Theodora, whose happy admirers and +intimates could be distinguished from all others by their exquisite +politeness, culture, finish and social polish. It was the same in +Ninon's school, the graduates of which occupied the highest rank in +letters, society, statesmanship, and military genius. + +De Gersay intending his son to fill a high position in society and +public honors, sent him to this school, where he was received and put +upon the same footing as other youth of high birth, and was duly +trained with them in all the arts and accomplishments of refined +society. The young man was not aware of his parentage, de Gersay +having extracted a solemn promise from Mademoiselle de l'Enclos that +she would never divulge the secret of the youth's birth without his +father's express consent, a promise which resulted in the most +disastrous consequences. + +Ninon, as mother of this handsome youth, admired him, and manifested a +tenderness which he misunderstood for the emotion of love, Ninon, +herself never contemplating such a fatality, and ended by becoming +enamored of his own mother. Ninon thought nothing of his passion, +believing that it would soon pass away, but it increased in intensity, +becoming a violent flame which finally proved irresistible, forcing +the youth to fall at his mother's feet and pour forth his passion in +the most extravagant language. + +Alarmed at this condition of her son's heart, Ninon withdrew from his +society, refusing to admit him to her presence. Although the Chevalier +was an impetuous wooer, he was dismayed by the loss of his inamorata, +and begged for the privilege of seeing her, promising solemnly never +to repeat his declaration of love. Ninon was deceived by his +professions and re-admitted him to her society. Insensibly, however, +perhaps in despite of his struggle to overcome his amorous +propensities, the Chevalier violated the conditions of the truce. +Ninon, on the watch for a repetition of his former manifestations, +quickly perceived the return of a love so abhorrent to nature. His +sighs, glances, sadness when in her presence, were signs to her of a +passion that she would be compelled to subdue with a strong, ruthless +hand. + +"Raise your eyes to that clock," she said to him one day, "and mark +the passing of time. Rash boy, it is sixty-five years since I came +into the world. Does it become me to listen to a passion like love? +Is it possible at my age to love or be loved? Enter within yourself, +Chevalier, and see how ridiculous are your desires and those you would +arouse in me." + +All Ninon's remonstrances, however, tended only to increase the +desires which burned in the young man's breast. His mother's tears, +which now began to flow, were regarded by the youth as trophies of +success. + +"What, tears?" he exclaimed, "you shed tears for me? Are they wrung +from your heart by pity, by tenderness? Ah, am I to be blessed?" + +"This is terrible," she replied, "it is insanity. Leave me, and do not +poison the remainder of a life which I detest." + +"What language is this?" exclaimed the Chevalier. "What poison can the +sweetness of making still another one happy instill into the loveliest +life? Is this the tender and philosophic Ninon? Has she not raised +between us that shadow of virtue that makes her sex adorable? What +chimeras have changed your heart? Shall I tell you? You carry your +cruelty to the extent of fighting against yourself, resisting your own +desires. I have seen in your eyes a hundred times less resistance than +you now set against me. And these tears which my condition has drawn +from your eyes--tell me, are they shed through indifference or hate? +Are you ashamed to avow a sensibility which honors humanity?" + +"Cease, Chevalier," said Ninon, raising her hand in protest, "the +right to claim my liveliest friendship rested with you, I thought you +worthy of it. That is the cause of the friendly looks which you have +mistaken for others of greater meaning, and it is also the cause of +the tears I shed. Do not flatter yourself that you have inspired me +with the passion of love. I can see too plainly that your desires are +the effect of a passing presumption. Come now, you shall know my +heart, and it should destroy all hope for you. It will go so far as to +hate you, if you repeat your protestations of blind tenderness. I do +not care to understand you, leave me, to regret the favors you have so +badly interpreted." + +When Ninon learned that her son was plunged into despair and fury on +account of her rejection of his love, her heart was torn with sorrow +and she regretted that she had not at first told him the secret of his +birth, but her solemn promise to de Gersay had stood in her way. She +determined now to remedy the evil and she therefore applied to de +Gersay to relieve her from her promise. De Gersay advised her to +communicate the truth to her son as soon as possible to prevent a +catastrophe which he prophesied was liable to happen when least +expected. She accordingly wrote the Chevalier that at a certain time +she would be at her house in the Saint Antoine suburb and prayed him +to meet her there. The impassioned Chevalier, expecting nothing less +than the gratification of his desires, prepared himself with extreme +care and flew to the assignation. He was disconcerted, however, by +finding Ninon despondent and sad, instead of smiling and joyful with +anticipation. However, he cast himself at her feet, seized her hand +and covered it with tears and kisses. + +"Unfortunate," cried Ninon submitting to his embraces, "there are +destinies beyond human prudence to direct. What have I not attempted +to do to calm your agitated spirit? What mystery do you force me to +unfold?" + +"Ah, you are about to deceive me again," interrupted the Chevalier, "I +do not perceive in your eyes the love I had the right to expect. I +recognize in your obscure language an injustice you are about to +commit; you hope to cure me of my love, but disabuse yourself of that +fancy; the cruel triumph you seek to win is beyond the united strength +of both of us, above any imaginable skill, beyond the power of reason +itself. It seems to listen to nothing but its own intoxication, and at +the same time rush to the last extremity." + +"Stop," exclaimed Ninon, indignant at this unreasoning folly, "this +horrible love shall not reach beyond the most sacred duties. Stop, I +tell you, monster that you are, and shudder with dismay. Can love +flourish where horror fills the soul? Do you know who you are and who +I am? The lover you are pursuing--" + +"Well! That lover?" demanded the Chevalier. + +"Is your mother," replied Ninon; "you owe me your birth. It is my son +who sighs at my feet, who talks to me of love. What sentiments do you +think you have inspired me with? Monsieur de Gersay, your father, +through an excess of affection for you, wished you to remain ignorant +of your birth. Ah, my son, by what fatality have you compelled me to +reveal this secret? You know to what degree of opprobrium the +prejudiced have put one of your birth, wherefore it was necessary to +conceal it from your delicacy of mind, but you would not have it so. +Know me as your mother, oh, my son, and pardon me for having given you +life." + +Ninon burst into a flood of tears and pressed her son to her heart, +but he seemed to be crushed by the revelations he heard. Pale, +trembling, nerveless, he dared not pronounce the sweet name of mother, +for his soul was filled with horror at his inability to realize the +relationship sufficiently to destroy the burning passion he felt for +her person. He cast one long look into her eyes, bent them upon the +ground, arose with a deep sigh and fled. A garden offered him a +refuge, and there, in a thick clump of bushes, he drew his sword and +without a moment's hesitation fell upon it, to sink down dying. + +Ninon had followed him dreading some awful calamity, and there, in the +dim light of the stars, she found her son weltering in his blood, shed +by his own hand for love of her. His dying eyes which he turned toward +her still spoke ardent love, and he expired while endeavoring to utter +words of endearment. + +Le Sage in the romance of Gil Blas has painted this horrible +catastrophe of Ninon de l'Enclos in the characters of the old woman +Inisilla de Cantarilla, and the youth Don Valerio de Luna. The +incident is similar to that which happened to Oedipus, the Theban who +tore out his eyes after discovering that in marrying Jocasta, the +queen, he had married his own mother. Le Sage's hero, however, mourns +because he had not been able to commit the crime, which gives the case +of Ninon's son a similar tinge, his self-immolation being due, not to +the horror of having indulged in criminal love for his own mother, but +to the regret at not having been able to accomplish his purpose. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Her Bohemian Environments + + +The daily and nightly doings at Ninon's house in the Rue des +Tournelles, if there is anything of a similar character in modern +society that can be compared to them, might be faintly represented by +our Bohemian circles, where good cheer, good fellowship, and freedom +from restraint are supposed to reign. There are, indeed, numerous +clubs at the present day styled "Bohemian," but except so far as the +tendency to relaxation appears upon the surface, they possess very few +of the characteristics of that society of "Birds" that assembled +around Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. They put aside all conventional +restraint, and the mental metal of those choice spirits clashed and +evolved brilliant sparks, bright rays of light, the luster of which +still glitters after a lapse of more than two centuries. + +Personally, Ninon was an enemy of pedantry in every form, demanding of +her followers originality at all times on penalty of banishment from +her circle. The great writer, Mynard, once related with tears in his +eyes that his daughter, who afterward became the Countess de +Feuquieres, had no memory. Whereat Ninon laughed him out of his +sorrow: + +"You are too happy in having a daughter who has no memory; she will +not be able to make citations." + +That her society was sought by very good men is evidenced by the grave +theologians who found her companionship pleasant, perhaps salutary. A +celebrated Jesuit who did not scruple to find entertainment in her +social circle, undertook to combat her philosophy and show her the +truth from his point of view, but she came so near converting him to +her tenets that he abandoned the contest remarking with a laugh: + +"Well, well, Mademoiselle, while waiting to be convinced that you are +in error, offer up to God your unbelief." Rousseau has converted this +incident into an epigram. + +The grave and learned clergy of Port Royal also undertook the labor of +converting her, but their labor was in vain. + +"You know," she told Fontenelle, "what use I make of my body? Well, +then, it would be easier for me to obtain a good price for my soul, +for the Jansenists and Molinists are engaged in a competition of +bidding for it." + +She was not bigoted in the least, as the following incident will show: +One of her friends refused to send for a priest when in extremis, but +Ninon brought one to his bedside, and as the clergyman, knowing the +scepticism of the dying sinner, hesitated to exercise his functions, +she encouraged him to do his duty: + +"Do your duty, sir," she said, "I assure you that although our friend +can argue, he knows no more about the truth than you and I." + +The key to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos' character is to be found in her +toleration and liberality. Utterly unselfish, she had no thoughts +beyond the comfort and, happiness of her friends. For them she +sacrificed her person, an astounding sacrifice in a woman, one for +which a multitude have suffered martyrdom for refusing to make, and +are cited as models of virtue to be followed. Yet, notwithstanding her +strange misapplication or perversion of what the world calls "female +honor," her world had nothing but the most profound respect and +admiration for her. It requires an extremely delicate pencil to sketch +such a character, and even then, a hundred trials might result in +failing to seize upon its most vivid lights and shades and bring out +its best points. + +Standing out clearly defined through her whole life was a noble soul +that never stooped to anything common, low, debasing or vulgar. +Brought up from infancy in the society of men, taught to consider them +as her companions and equals, and treated by them as one of +themselves, she acquired a grace and a polish that made her society +desired by the proudest ladies of the court. There is no one in the +annals of the nations of the earth that can be compared to her. The +Aspasia of Pericles has been regarded by some as a sort of prototype, +but Aspasia was a common woman of the town, her thoughts were devoted +to the aggrandizement of one man, her love affairs were bestowed upon +an open market. On the contrary, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos never +bestowed her favors upon any but one she could ever after regard as an +earnest, unselfish friend. Their friendship was a source of delight to +her and she was Epicurean, in the enjoyment of everything that goes +with friendship. + +Saint-Evremond likens her to Leontium, the Athenian woman, celebrated +for her philosophy and for having dared to write a book against the +great Theophrastus, a literary venture which may have been the reason +why Saint-Evremond gave Ninon the title. Ninon's heart was weak, it is +true, but she had early learned those philosophical principles which +drew her senses away from that portion of her soul, and her +environments were those most conducive to the cultivation of the +senses which are so easily led away into seductive paths. But however +far her love of pleasure may have led her, her philosophical ideas and +practices did not succeed in destroying or even weakening any other +virtue. "The smallest fault of gallant women," says de la +Rochefoucauld, "is their gallantry." + +The distinguished Abbe Chateauneuf expresses a trait in her character +which drew to her side the most distinguished men of the period. + +"She reserved all her esteem, all her confidence for friendship, which +she always regarded as a respectable liaison," says the Abbe, "and to +maintain that friendship she permitted no diminution or relaxation." + +In other words she was constant and true, without whims or caprice. +The Comte de Segur, in his work on "Women, their Condition and +Influence in Society," says: "While Ninon de l'Enclos was fostering +and patronizing genius, and giving it opportunities to expand, Madame +de Sevigne was at the head of a cabal in opposition to genius, unless +it was measured upon her own standard. In her self-love she wrought +against Racine and sought to diminish the literary luster of Flechier. +But with all her ability Madame de Sevigne possessed very little +genius or tact, and her lack of discrimination is apparent in the fact +that none of her proteges ever reached any distinction. Moreover, her +virtues must have been of an appalling character since they were not +strong enough to save her husband and son from falling into the +clutches of "That horrid woman," referring to Ninon. + +Ninon certainly understood men; she divined them at the first glance +and provided for their bodily and intellectual wants. If they were +deemed worthy of her favors, she bestowed them freely, and out of one +animal desire gratified, there were created a thousand intellectual +aspirations. She understood clearly that man can not be all animal or +all spiritual, and that the attempt to divert nature from its duality +of being was to wreck humanity and make of man neither fish, flesh nor +fowl. Her constant prayer in her younger days, for the truth of which +Voltaire vouches, was: + +"Mon Dieu, faites de moi un honnete homme, et n'en faites jamais une +honnete femme." (My God, make me an honest man, but never an honest +woman). + +Count Segur, in his book already referred to, has this to say further +concerning Ninon: + +"Ninon shone under the reign of Louis XIV like a graceful plant in its +proper soil. Splendor seemed to be her element. That Ninon might +appear in the sphere that became her, it was necessary that Turenne +and Conde should sigh at her feet, that Voltaire should receive from +her his first lessons, in a word, that in her illustrious cabinet, +glory and genius should be seen sporting with love and the graces." + +Had it not been for the influence of Ninon de l'Enclos--there are many +who claim it as the truth--the sombre tinge, the veil of gloominess +and hypocritical austerity which surrounded Madame de Maintenon and +her court, would have wrecked the intellects of the most illustrious +and brightest men in France, in war, literature, science, and +statesmanship. Madame de Maintenon resisted that influence but the Rue +des Tournelles strove against Saint Cyr. The world fluctuated between +these two systems established by women, both of them--shall it be +said--courtesans? The legality and morality of our modern common law +marriages and the ease and frequency of trivial divorces forbid it. +Ninon prevailed, however, and not only governed hearts but souls. The +difference between the two courts was, the royal salon was thronged +with women of the most infamous character who had nothing but their +infamy to bestow, while the drawing rooms of Ninon de l'Enclos were +crowded with men almost exclusively, and men of wit and genius. + +The moral that the majority of writers draw from the three courts that +occupied society at that time, the Rue des Tournelles, Madame de +Sevigne, and Versailles, is, that men demand human nature and will +have it in preference to abnormal goodness, and female debauchery. +Ninon never hesitated to declaim against the fictitious beauty that +pretended to inculcate virtue and morality while secretly engaged in +the most corrupt practices, but Moliere came with his Precieuses +Ridicules and pulverized the enemies of human nature. Ninon did not +know Moliere personally at that time but she was so loud in his praise +for covering her gross imitators with confusion, that Bachaumont and +Chapelle, two of her intimate friends, ventured to introduce the young +dramatist into her society. The father of this Bachaumont who was a +twin, said of him: "My son who is only half a man, wants to do as if +he were a whole one." Though only "half a man" and extremely feeble +and delicate, he became a voluptuary according to the ideas of +Chapelle, and by devoting himself to the doctrines of Epicurus, he +managed to live until eighty years of age. Chapelle was a drunkard as +has been intimated in a preceding chapter, and although he loved Ninon +passionately, she steadily refused to favor him. + +Moliere and Ninon were mutually attracted, each recognizing in the +other not only a kindred spirit, but something not apparent on the +surface. Nature had given them the same eyes, and they saw men and +things from the same view point. Moliere was destined to enlighten his +age by his pen, and Ninon through her wise counsel and sage +reflections. In speaking of Moliere to Saint-Evremond, she declared +with fervor: + +"I thank God every night for finding me a man of his spirit, and I +pray Him every morning to preserve him from the follies of the heart." + +There was a great opposition to Moliere's comedy "Tartuffe." It +created a sensation in society, and neither Louis XIV, the prelates of +the kingdom and the Roman legate, were strong enough to withstand the +torrents of invectives that came from those who were unmasked in the +play. They succeeded in having it interdicted, and the comedy was on +the point of being suppressed altogether, when Moliere took it to +Ninon, read it over to her and asked her opinion as to what had better +be done. With her keen sense of the ridiculous and her knowledge of +character, Ninon went over the play with Moliere to such good purpose +that the edict of suppression was withdrawn, the opponents of the +comedy finding themselves in a position where they could no longer +take exceptions without confessing the truth of the inuendoes. + +When the comedy was nearly completed, Moliere began trying to think of +a name to give the main character in the play, who is an imposter. One +day while at dinner with the Papal Nuncio, he noticed two +ecclesiastics, whose air of pretended mortification fairly represented +the character he had depicted in the play. While considering them +closely, a peddler came along with truffles to sell. One of the pious +ecclesiastics who knew very little Italian, pricked up his ears at the +word truffles, which seemed to have a familiar sound. Suddenly coming +out of his devout silence, he selected several of the finest of the +truffles, and holding them out to the nuncio, exclaimed with a laugh: +"Tartuffoli, Tartuffoli, signor Nuncio!" imagining that he was +displaying his knowledge of the Italian language by calling out +"Truffles, truffles, signor Nuncio," whereas, what he did say was +"Hypocrites, hypocrites, Signor Nuncio." Moliere who was always a +close and keen observer of everything that transpired around him, +seized upon the name "Tartuffe" as suitable to the hypocritical +imposter in his comedy. + +Ninon's brilliancy was so animated, particularly at table, that she +was said to be intoxicated at the soup, although she rarely drank +anything but water. Her table was always surrounded by the wittiest of +her friends and her own flashes kept their spirits up to the highest +point. The charm of her conversation was equal to the draughts of +Nepenthe which Helen lavished upon her guests, according to Homer to +charm and enchant them. + +One story told about Ninon is not to her credit if true, and it is +disputed. A great preacher arose in France, the "Eagle of the Pulpit," +as he was called, or "The great Pan," as Madame de Sevigne, loved to +designate him. His renown for eloquence and piety reached Ninon's ears +and she conceived a scheme, so it is said; to bring this great orator +to her feet. She had held in her chains from time to time, all the +heroes, and illustrious men of France, and she considered Pere +Bourdaloue worthy of a place on the list. She accordingly arrayed +herself in her most fascinating costume, feigned illness and sent for +him. But Pere Bourdaloue was not a man to be captivated by any woman, +and, moreover, he was a man too deeply versed in human perversity to +be easily deceived. He came at her request, however, and to her +question as to her condition he answered: "I perceive that your malady +exists only in your heart and mind; as to your body, it appears to me +to be in perfect health. I pray the great physician of souls that he +will heal you." Saying which he left her without ceremony. + +The story is probably untrue and grew out of a song of the times, to +ridicule the attempts of numerous preachers to convert Ninon from her +way of living. They frequented her social receptions but those were +always public, as she never trusted herself to any one without the +knowledge and presence of some of her "Birds," taking that precaution +for her own safety and to avoid any appearance of partiality. The song +referred to, composed by some unknown scribe begins as follows: + +"Ninon passe les jours au jeu: +Cours ou l'amour te porte; +Le predicateur qui t'exhorte, +S'il etait au coin de ton feu, +Te parlerait d'un autre sorte." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A Remarkable Old Age + + +When Ninon had reached the age of sixty-five years, there were those +among the beauties of the royal court who thought she ought to retire +from society and make way for them, but there appeared to be no +diminution of her capacity for pleasure, no weakening of her powers of +attraction. The legend of the Noctambule, or the little black man, who +appeared to Ninon when she was at the age of twenty years, and +promised her perpetual beauty and the conquest of all hearts, was +revived, and there was enough probability in it to justify a strong +belief in the story. Indeed, the Abbe Servien spread it about again +when Ninon was seventy years of age, and even then there were few who +disputed the mysterious gift as Ninon showed little change. + +As old age approached, Ninon ceased to be regarded with that +familiarity shown her by her intimates in her younger days, and a +respect and admiration took its place. She was no longer "Ninon," but +"Mademoiselle de l'Enclos." Her social circle widened, and instead of +being limited to men exclusively, ladies eagerly took advantage of the +privilege accorded them to frequent the charming circle. That circle +certainly became celebrated. The beautiful woman had lived the life of +an earnest Epicurean in her own way, regardless of society's +conventionalities, and had apparently demonstrated that her way was +the best. She had certainly attained a long life, and what was more to +the purpose she had preserved her beauty and the attractions of her +person were as strong as when she was in her prime. Reason enough why +the women of the age thronged her apartments to learn the secret of +her life. Moreover, her long and intimate associations with the most +remarkable men of the century had not failed to impart to her, in +addition to her exquisite femininity, the wisdom of a sage and the +polish of a man of the world. + +Madame de La Fayette, that "rich field so fertile in fruits," as Ninon +said of her, and Madame de la Sabliere, "a lovely garden enameled with +eye-charming flowers," another of Ninon's descriptive metaphors, +passed as many hours as they could in her society with the illustrious +Duke de la Rochefoucauld, who, up to the time of his death honored +Ninon with his constant friendship and his devoted esteem. Even Madame +de Sevigne put aside her envy and jealousy and never wearied of the +pleasure of listening to the conversation of this wise beauty, in +company with her haughty daughter, Madame de Grignan, Madame de +Coulanges, Madame de Torp, and, strange to say, the Duchess de +Bouillon. + +Her friends watched over her health with the tenderest care and +affection, and even her slightest indisposition brought them around +her with expressions of the deepest solicitude. They dreaded losing +her, for having had her so long among them they hoped to keep her +always, and they did, practically, for she outlived the most of them. +As proof of the anxiety of her friends and the delight they +experienced at her recovery from the slightest ailment, one +illustration will suffice. + +On one occasion she had withdrawn from her friends for a single +evening, pleading indisposition. The next evening she reappeared and +her return was celebrated by an original poem written by no less a +personage than the Abbe Regnier-Desmarais, who read it to the friends +assembled around her chair: + +"Clusine qui dans tous les temps + Eut de tous les honnetes gens + L'amour et l'estime en partage: + Qui toujours pleine de bon sens + Sut de chaque saison de l'age + Faire a propos un juste usage: +Qui dans son entretien, dont on fut enchante + Sut faire un aimable alliage + De l'agreable badinage, + Avec la politesse et la solidite, + Et que le ciel doua d'un esprit droit et sage, + Toujours d'intelligence avec la verite, +Clusine est, grace au ciel, en parfaite sante." + +Such a poem would not be accorded much praise nowadays, but the hearts +of her friends regarded the sentiments more than the polish, as a +substantial translation into English will serve to show appeared in +the lines: + +Clusine who from our earliest ken + Had from all good and honest men + Love and esteem a generous share: + Who knew so well the season when + Her heritage of sense so rare + To use with justice and with care: +Who in her discourse, friends enchanted all-around, + Could fashion out of playful ware + An alloy of enduring wear, + Good breeding and with solid ground, + A heavenly spirit wise and fair, + With truth and intellect profound, +Clusine, thanks be to Heaven, her perfect health has found. + +Her salon was open to her friends in general from five o'clock in the +evening until nine, at which hour she begged them to permit her to +retire and gain strength for the morrow. In winter she occupied a +large apartment decorated with portraits of her dearest male and +female friends, and numerous paintings by celebrated artists. In +summer, she occupied an apartment which overlooked the boulevard, its +walls frescoed with magnificent sketches from the life of Psyche. In +one or the other of these salons, she gave her friends four hours +every evening, after that retiring to rest or amusing herself with a +few intimates. Her friendship finds an apt illustration in the case of +the Comte de Charleval. He was always delicate and in feeble health, +and Ninon when he became her admirer in his youth, resolved to +prolong his life through the application of the Epicurian philosophy. +De Marville, speaking of the Count, whom no one imagined would survive +to middle age, says: "Nature, which gave him so delicate a body in +such perfect form, also gave him a delicate and perfect intelligence." +This frail and delicate invalid, lived, however, until the age of +eighty years, and was always grateful to Ninon for her tenderness. He +never missed a reception and sang her praises on every occasion. +Writing to Saint-Evremond to announce his death, Ninon, herself very +aged, says: "His mind had retained all the charms of his youth, and +his heart all the sweetness and tenderness of a true friend." She felt +the loss of this common friend, for she again writes of him afterward: +"His life and that I live had much in common. It is like dying oneself +to meet with such a loss." + +It was at this period of her life that Ninon occupied her time more +than ever in endearing herself to her friends. As says Saint-Evremond: +"She contents herself with ease and rest, after having enjoyed the +liveliest pleasures of life." Although she was never mistress of the +invincible inclination toward the pleasures of the senses which nature +had given her, it appears that Ninon made some efforts to control +them. Referring to the ashes which are sprinkled on the heads of the +penitent faithful on Ash Wednesday, she insisted that instead of the +usual prayer of abnegation there should be substituted the words: "We +must avoid the movements of love." What she wrote Saint-Evremond +might give rise to the belief that she sometimes regretted her +weakness: "Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of in my +time than many another. However that may be, if any one had proposed +to me such a life I would have hanged myself." One of her favorite +maxims, however, was: "We must provide a stock of provisions and not +of pleasures, they should be taken as they come." + +That her philosophical principles did not change, is certain from the +fact that she retained all her friends and gained new ones who flocked +to her reunions. Says Madame de Coulanges in one of her letters: "The +women are running after Mademoiselle de l'Enclos now as much as the +men used to do. How can any one hate old age after such an example." +This reflection did not originate with Ninon, who regretted little her +former pleasures, and besides, friendship with her had as many sacred +rights as love. From what Madame de Coulanges says, one might suppose +that the men had deserted Ninon in her old age, leaving women to take +their place, but Madame de Sevigne was of a different opinion. She +says: "Corbinelli asks me about the new marvels taking place at +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos' house in the way of good company. She +assembles around her in her old age, whatever Madame de Coulanges may +say to the contrary, both men and women, but even if women did not +flock to her side, she could console herself for having had men in her +young days to please." + +The celebrated English geometrician, Huygens, visited Ninon during a +sojourn at Paris in the capacity of ambassador. He was so charmed +with the attractions of her person, and with her singing, that he fell +into poetry to express his admiration. French verses from an +Englishman who was a geometrician and not a poet, were as surprising +to Ninon and her friends as they will be to the reader. They are not +literature but express what was in the mind of the famous scientist: + +"Elle a cinq instruments dont je suis amoureux, +Les deux premiers, ses mains, les deux autres, ses yeux; +Pour le dernier de tous, et cinquieme qui reste, +Il faut etre galant et leste." + +In the year 1696, when Ninon had reached eighty, she had several +attacks of illness which worried her friends exceedingly. The Marquis +de Coulanges writes: "Our amiable l'Enclos has a cold which does not +please me." A short time afterward he again wrote: "Our poor l'Enclos +has a low fever which redoubles in the evening, and a sore throat +which worries her friends." These trifling ailments were nothing to +Ninon, who, though growing feeble, maintained her philosophy, as she +said: "I am contenting myself with what happens from day to day; +forgetting to-day what occurred yesterday, and holding on to a used up +body as one that has been very agreeable." She saw the term of her +life coming to an end without any qualms or fear. "If I could only +believe with Madame de Chevreuse, that by dying we can go and talk +with all our friends in the other world, it would be a sweet thought." + +Madame de Maintenon, then in the height of her power and influence, +had never forgotten the friend of her youth, and now, she offered her +lodgings at Versailles. It is said that her intention was to enable +the king to profit by an intimacy with a woman of eighty-five years +who, in spite of bodily infirmities, possessed the same vivacity of +mind and delicacy of taste which had contributed to her great renown, +much more than her personal charms and frailties. But Ninon was born +for liberty, and had never been willing to sacrifice her philosophical +tranquility for the hope of greater fortune and position in the world. +Accordingly, she thanked her old friend, and as the only concession +she would grant, consented to stand in the chapel of Versailles where +Louis the Great could pass and satisfy his curiosity to see once, at +least, the astonishing marvel of his reign. + +During the latter years of her life, she took a fancy to young +Voltaire, in whom she detected signs of future greatness. She +fortified him with her counsel, which he prayed her to give him, and +left him a thousand francs in her will to buy books. Voltaire +attempted to earn the money by ridiculing the memory of his +benefactress. + +At the age of ninety years, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos grew feebler +every day, and felt that death would not be long coming. She performed +all her social duties, however, until the very end, refusing to +surrender until compelled. On the last night of her life, unable to +sleep, she arose, and at her desk wrote the following verses: + +"Qu'un vain espoir ne vienne point s'offrir, +Qui puisse ebranler mon courage; +Je suis en age de mourir; +Que ferais-je ici davantage?" + +(Let no vain hope now come and try, +My courage strong to overthrow; +My age demands that I shall die, +What more can I do here below?) + +On the seventeenth of October, 1706, she expired as gently as one who +falls asleep. + + + + +LETTERS + +OF + +NINON de L'ENCLOS + +TO THE + +MARQUIS de SEVIGNE. + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS + + +The celebrated Abbe de Chateauneuf, in his "Dialogues on Ancient +Music," refers to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos under the name of +"Leontium," a name given her by le Marechal de Saint-Evremond, and in +his eulogy upon her character, lays great stress on the genius +displayed in her epistolary style. After censuring the affectation to +be found in the letters of Balzac and Voiture, the learned Abbe says: + +"The letters of Leontium, although novel in their form of expression, +although replete with philosophy, and sparkling with wit and +intelligence contain nothing stilted, or overdrawn. + +"Inasmuch as the moral to be drawn from them is always seasoned with +sprightliness, and the spirit manifested in them, displays the +characteristics of a liberal and natural imagination, they differ in +nothing from personal conversation with her choice circle of friends. + +"The impression conveyed to the mind of their readers is, that she is +actually conversing with them personally." + +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos writes about the heart, love, and women. +Strange subjects, but no woman ever lived who was better able to do +justice to them. In her frame of mind, she could not see men without +studying their dispositions, and she knew them thoroughly, her +experience extending over a period of seventy-five years of intimate +association with men of every stamp, from the Royal prince to the +Marquis de Sevigne, the latter wearying her to such an extent that she +designated him as "a man beyond definition; with a soul of pulp, a +body of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseed in snow," his own +mother, the renowned Madame de Sevigne, admitting that he was "a heart +fool." + +Ninon took this weak Chevalier in charge and endeavored to make a man +of him by exposing his frailties, and, entering into a long +correspondence, to instruct him in the pathology of the female heart, +with which he was disposed to tamper on the slightest provocation. Her +letters will show that she succeeded finally in bringing him to +reason, but that in doing so, she was compelled to betray her own sex +by exposing the secret motives of women in their relations with men. + +That she knew women as well as men, can not be disputed, for, +beginning with Madame de Maintenon and the Queen of Sweden, Christine, +down along the line to the sweet Countess she guards so successfully +against the evil designs of the Marquis de Sevigne, including Madame +de La Fayette, Madame de Sevigne, Madame de La Sabliere, and the most +distinguished and prominent society women of France, they all were her +particular friends, as well as intimates, and held her in high esteem +as their confidante in all affairs of the heart. + +No other woman ever held so unique a position in the world of society +as Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and her letters to the Marquis de Sevigne +may, therefore, be considered as standards of the epistolary art upon +the subjects she treats; as containing the most profound insight into +the female heart where love is concerned, and as forming a study of +the greatest value in everything that pertains to the relations +between the sexes. + +There is an entire absence of mawkish sentimentality, of effort to +conceal the secret motives and desires of the heart beneath specious +language and words of double meaning. On the contrary, they tear away +from the heart the curtain of deceit, artifice and treachery, to +expose the nature of the machinery behind the scenes. + +These letters must be read in the light of the opinions of the wisest +philosophers of the seventeenth century upon her character. + +"Inasmuch as the first use she (Mademoiselle de l'Enclos) made of her +reason, was to become enfranchised from vulgar errors, it is +impossible to be further removed from the stupid mistake of those who, +under the name of "passion," elevate the sentiment of love to the +height of a virtue. Ninon understood love to be what it really is, a +taste founded upon the senses, a blind sentiment, which admits of no +merit in the object which gives it birth, and which promises no +recompense; a caprice, the duration of which does not depend upon our +volition, and which is subject to remorse and repentance." + + + + +LETTERS OF NINON de L'ENCLOS + +TO THE + +MARQUIS de SEVIGNE + + + +I. + +A Hazardous Undertaking. + +What, I, Marquis, take charge of your education, be your guide in the +enterprise upon which you are about to enter? You exact too much of my +friendship for you. You ought to be aware of the fact, that when a +woman has lost the freshness of her first youth, and takes a special +interest in a young man, everybody says she desires to "make a +worldling of him." You know the malignity of this expression. I do not +care to expose myself to its application. All the service I am willing +to render you, is to become your confidante. You will tell me your +troubles, and I will tell you what is in my mind, likewise aid you to +know your own heart and that of women. + +It grieves me to say, that whatever pleasure I may expect to find in +this correspondence, I can not conceal the difficulties I am liable to +encounter. The human heart, which will be the subject of my letters, +presents so many contrasts, that whoever lays it bare must fall into +a flood of contradictions. You think you have something stable in your +grasp, but find you have seized a shadow. It is indeed a chameleon, +which, viewed from different aspects, presents a variety of opposite +colors, and even they are constantly shifting. You may expect to read +many strange things in what I shall say upon this subject. I will, +however, give you my ideas, though they may often seem strange; +however, that shall be for you to determine. I confess that I am not +free from grave scruples of conscience, foreseeing that I can scarcely +be sincere without slandering my own sex a little. But at least you +will know my views on the subject of love, and particularly everything +that relates to it, and I have sufficient courage to talk to you +frankly upon the subject. + +I am to dine to-night with the Marquis de la Rochefoucauld. Madame de +la Sabliere and La Fontaine will also be guests. If it please you to +be one of us, La Fontaine will regale you with two new stories, which, +I am told, do not disparage his former ones. Come Marquis--But, again +a scruple. Have I nothing to fear in the undertaking we contemplate? +Love is so malicious and fickle! Still, when I examine my heart, I do +not feel any apprehension for myself, it being occupied elsewhere, and +the sentiments I possess toward you resemble love less than +friendship. If the worst should happen and I lose my head some day, we +shall know how to withdraw in the easiest possible manner. + +We are going to take a course of morals together. Yes, sir, MORALS! +But do not be alarmed at the mere word, for there will be between us +only the question of gallantry to discuss, and that, you know, sways +morals to so high a degree that it deserves to be the subject of a +special study. The very idea of such a project is to me infinitely +risible. However, if I talk reason to you too often, will you not grow +weary? This is my sole anxiety, for you well know that I am a pitiless +reasoner when I wish to be. With any other heart than that which you +misunderstand, I could be a philosopher such as the world never knew. + +Adieu, I await your good pleasure. + + + + +II + +Why Love is Dangerous + + +I assure you, Marquis, I shall keep my word, and on all occasions, I +shall speak the truth, even though it be to my own detriment. I have +more stability in my disposition than you imagine, and I fear +exceedingly that the result of our intercourse may sometimes lead you +to think that I carry this virtue into severity. But you must remember +that I have only the external appearance of a woman, and that in mind +and heart I am a man. Here is the method that I wish to follow with +you. As I ask only to acquire information for myself before +communicating to you my ideas, my intention is to propound them to the +excellent man with whom we supped yesterday. It is true that he has +none too good an opinion of poor humanity. He believes neither in +virtue nor in spiritual things. But this inflexibility, mitigated by +my indulgence for human frailties, will give you, I believe, the kind +and the quantity of philosophy which is required in all intercourse +with women. Let us come to the gist of your letter. + +Since your entrance into the world it has offered you nothing, you +say, of what you had imagined you would find there. Disgust and +weariness follow you everywhere. You seek solitude, and as soon as +you are enjoying it, it wearies you. In a word, you do not know to +what cause to attribute the restlessness which torments you. I am +going to save you the trouble, I am, for my burden is to speak my +thoughts on everything that may perplex you; and I do not know but you +will often ask me questions as embarrassing for me to answer as they +may have been for you to ask. + +The uneasiness which you experience is caused only by the void in your +heart. Your heart is without love, and it is trying to make you +comprehend its wants. You have really what one calls the "need of +loving." Yes, Marquis, nature, in forming us, gave us an allowance of +sentiments which must expend themselves upon some object. Your age is +the proper period for the agitations of love; as long as this +sentiment does not fill your heart, something will always be wanting; +the restlessness of which you complain will never cease. In a word, +love is the nourishment of the heart as food is of the body; to love +is to fulfill the desire of nature, to satisfy a need. But if +possible, manage it so that it will not become a passion. To protect +you from this misfortune, I could almost be tempted to disprove the +counsel given you, to prefer, to the company of women capable of +inspiring esteem rather than love, the intercourse of those who pride +themselves on being amusing rather than sedate and prim. At your age, +being unable to think of entering into a serious engagement, it is not +necessary to find a friend in a woman; one should seek to find only +an amiable mistress. + +The intercourse with women of lofty principles, or those whom the +ravages of time force into putting themselves forward only by virtue +of great qualities, is excellent for a man who, like themselves, is on +life's decline. For you, these women would be too good company, if I +dare so express myself. Riches are necessary to us only in proportion +to our wants; and what you would better do, I think, is to frequent +the society of those who combine, with agreeable figure, gentleness in +conversation, cheerfulness in disposition, a taste for the pleasures +of society, and strong enough not to be frightened by one affair of +the heart. + +In the eyes of a man of reason they appear too frivolous, you will +say: but do you think they should be judged with so much severity? Be +persuaded, Marquis, that if, unfortunately, they should acquire more +firmness of character, they and you would lose much by it. You require +in women stability of character! Well, do you not find it in a +friend?--Shall I tell you what is in my mind? It is not our virtues +you need; but our playfulness and our weakness. The love which you +could feel for a woman who would be estimable in every respect, would +become too dangerous for you. Until you can contemplate a contract of +marriage, you should seek only to amuse yourself with those who are +beautiful; a passing taste alone should attach you to one of them: be +careful not to plunge in too deep with her; there can nothing result +but a bad ending. If you did not reflect more profoundly than the +greater part of young people, I should talk to you in an entirely +different tone; but I perceive that you are ready to give to excess, a +contrary meaning to their ridiculous frivolity. It is only necessary, +then, to attach yourself to a woman who, like an agreeable child, +might amuse you with pleasant follies, light caprices, and all those +pretty faults which make the charm of a gallant intercourse. + +Do you wish me to tell you what makes love dangerous? It is the +sublime view that one sometimes takes of it. But the exact truth is, +it is only a blind instinct which one must know how to appreciate: an +appetite which you have for one object in preference to another, +without being able to give the reason for your taste. Considered as a +friendly intimacy when reason presides, it is not a passion, it is no +longer love, it is, in truth, a warm hearted esteem, but tranquil; +incapable of drawing you away from any fixed position. If, walking in +the footsteps of our ancient heroes of romance, you aim at great +sentiments, you will see that this pretended heroism makes of love +only a sad and sometimes fatal folly. It is a veritable fanaticism; +but if you disengage it from all that opinion makes it, it will soon +be your happiness and pleasure. Believe me, if it were reason or +enthusiasm which formed affairs of the heart, love would become +insipid, or a frenzy. The only means of avoiding these two extremes is +to follow the path I have indicated. You need only to be amused, and +you will find amusement only among the women I mention to you as +capable of it. Your heart wishes occupation, they are made to fill it. +Try my recipe and you will find it good--I made you a fair promise, +and it seems to me I am keeping my word with you exactly. Adieu, I +have just received a charming letter from M. de Saint-Evremond, and I +must answer it. I wish at the same time to propose to him the ideas +which I have communicated to you, and I shall be very much mistaken if +he does not approve of them. + +To-morrow I shall have the Abbe de Chateauneuf, and perhaps Moliere. +We shall read again the Tartuffe, in which some changes should be +made. Take notice, Marquis, that those who do not conform to all I +have just told you, have a little of the qualities of that character. + + + + +III + +Why Love Grows Cold + + +In despite of everything I may say to you, you still stick to your +first sentiment. You wish a respectable person for a mistress, and one +who can at the same time be your friend. These sentiments would +undoubtedly merit commendation if in reality they could bring you the +happiness you expect them to; but experience teaches you that all +those great expectations are pure illusions. Are serious qualities the +only question in pastimes of the heart? I might be tempted to believe +that romances have impaired your mental powers. Poor Marquis! He has +allowed himself to become fascinated by the sublime talk common in +conversation. But, my dear child, what do you mean to do with these +chimeras of reason? I willingly tell you, Marquis: it is very fine +coin, but it is a pity that it can not enter into commercial +transactions. + +When you wish to begin housekeeping, look for a reliable woman, full +of virtue and lofty principles. All this is becoming to the dignity of +the marriage tie; I intended to say, to its gravity. But at present, +as you require nothing but a love affair, beware of being serious, and +believe what I tell you; I know your wants better than you yourself +know them. Men usually say that they seek essential qualities in those +they love. Blind fools that they are! How they would complain could +they find them! What would they gain by being deified? They need only +amusement. A mistress as reasonable as you require would be a wife for +whom you would have an infinite respect, I admit, but not a particle +of ardor. A woman estimable in all respects is too subduing, +humiliates you too much, for you to love her long. Forced to esteem +her, and even sometimes to admire her, you can not excuse yourself for +ceasing to love her. So many virtues are a reproach too discreet, too +tiresome a critic of our eccentricities, not to arouse your pride at +last, and when that is humbled, farewell to love. Make a thorough +analysis of your sentiments, examine well your conscience, and you +will see that I speak the truth. I have but a moment left to say +adieu. + + + + +IV + +The Spice of Love + + +Do you know, Marquis, that you will end by putting me in a temper? +Heavens, how very stupid you are sometimes! I see it in your letter; +you have not understood me at all. Take heed; I did not say that you +should take for a mistress a despicable object. That is not at all my +idea. But I said that in reality you needed only a love affair, and +that, to make it pleasant, you should not attach yourself exclusively +to substantial qualities. I repeat it; when in love, men need only to +be amused; and I believe on this subject I am an authority. Traces of +temper and caprice, a senseless quarrel, all this has more effect upon +women, and retains their affection more than all the reason +imaginable, more than steadiness of character. + +Someone whom you esteem for the justice and strength of his ideas, +said one day at my house, that caprice in women was too closely allied +to beauty to be an antidote. I opposed this opinion with so much +animation, that it could readily be seen that the contrary maxim was +my sentiment, and I am, in truth, well persuaded that caprice is not +close to beauty, except to animate its charms in order to make them +more attractive, to serve as a goad, and to flavor them. There is no +colder sentiment, and none which endures less than admiration. One +easily becomes accustomed to see the same features, however regular +they may be, and when a little malignity does not give them life or +action, their very regularity soon destroys the sentiment they excite. +A cloud of temper, even, can give to a beautiful countenance the +necessary variety, to prevent the weariness of seeing it always in the +same state. In a word, woe to the woman of too monotonous a +temperament; her monotony satiates and disgusts. She is always the +same statue, with her a man is always right. She is so good, so +gentle, that she takes away from people the privilege of quarreling +with her, and this is often such a great pleasure! Put in her place a +vivacious woman, capricious, decided, to a certain limit, however, and +things assume a different aspect. The lover will find in the same +person the pleasure of variety. Temper is the salt, the quality which +prevents it from becoming stale. Restlessness, jealousy, quarrels, +making friends again, spitefulness, all are the food of love. +Enchanting variety! which fills, which occupies a sensitive heart much +more deliciously than the regularity of behavior, and the tiresome +monotony which is called "good disposition." + +I know how you men must be governed. A caprice puts you in an +uncertainty, which you have as much trouble and grief in dispelling as +though it were a victory obtained over a new object. Roughness makes +you hold your breath. You do not stop disputing, but neither do you +cease to conquer and to be conquered. In vain does reason sigh. You +can not comprehend how such an imp manages to subjugate you so +tyrannically. Everything tells you that the idol of your heart is a +collection of caprices and follies, but she is a spoiled child, whom +you can not help but love. The efforts which reflection causes you to +make to loosen them, serve only to forge still tighter your chains; +for love is never so strong as when you believe it ready to break away +in the heat of a quarrel. It loves, it storms; with it, everything is +convulsive. Would you reduce it to rule? It languishes, it expires. In +a word, this is what I wanted to say; do not take for a mistress a +woman who has only reliable qualities; but one who is sometimes +dominated by temper, and silences reason; otherwise I shall say that +it is not a love affair you want, but to set up housekeeping. + + + + +V + +Love and Temper + + +Oh, I agree with you, Marquis, a woman who has only temper and +caprices is very thorny for an acquaintance and in the end only +repels. I agree again that these irregularities must make of love a +never ending quarrel, a continual storm. Therefore, it is not for a +person of this character that I advise you to form an attachment. You +always go beyond my ideas. I only depicted to you in my last letter an +amiable woman, one who becomes still more so by a shade of diversity, +and you speak only of an unpleasant woman, who has nothing but +ungracious things to say. How we have drifted away from the point! + +When I spoke of temper I only meant the kind which gives a stronger +relish, anxiety, and a little jealousy: that, in a word, which springs +from love alone, and not from natural brutality, that roughness which +one ordinarily calls "bad temper." When it is love which makes a woman +rough, when that alone is the cause of her liveliness, what sort can +the lover be who has so little delicacy as to complain of it? Do not +these errors prove the violence of passion? For myself, I have always +thought that he who knew how to keep himself within proper bounds, +was moderately amorous. Can one be so, in effect, without allowing +himself to be goaded by the fire of a devouring impetuosity, without +experiencing all the revolutions which it necessarily occasions? No, +undoubtedly. Well! who can see all these disturbances in a beloved +object without a secret pleasure? While complaining of its injustice +and its transports, one feels no less deliciously at heart that he is +loved, and with passion, and that these same aggravations are most +convincing proofs that it is voluntary. + +There, Marquis, is what constitutes the secret charm of the troubles +which lovers sometimes suffer, of the tears they shed. But if you are +going to believe that I wished to tell you that a woman of bad temper, +capricious, can make you happy, undeceive yourself. I said, and I +shall always persist in my idea, that diversity is necessary, +caprices, bickerings, in a gallant intercourse, to drive away +weariness, and to perpetuate the strength of it. But consider that +these spices do not produce that effect except when love itself is the +source. If temper is born of a natural brusqueness, or of a restless, +envious, unjust disposition, I am the first one to say that such a +woman will become hateful, she will be the cause of disheartening +quarrels. A connection of the heart becomes then a veritable torment, +from which it is desirable to free oneself as quickly as possible. + + + + +VI + +Certain Maxims Concerning Love + + +You think, then, Marquis, that you have brought up an invincible +argument, when you tell me that one is not the master of his own +heart, in disposing of it where he wishes, and that consequently you +are not at liberty to choose the object of your attachment? Morals of +the opera! Abandon this commonplace to women who expect, in saying so, +to justify their weaknesses. It is very necessary that they should +have something to which to cling: like the gentleman of whom our +friend Montaigne speaks who, when the gout attacked him, would have +been very angry if he had not been able to say: "Cursed ham!" They say +it is a sympathetic stroke. That is too strong for me. Is anyone +master of his heart? He is no longer permitted to reply when such good +reasons are given. They have even so well sanctioned these maxims that +they wish to attract everyone to their arms in order to try to +overcome them. But these same maxims find so much approbation only +because everyone is interested in having them received. No one +suspects that such excuses, far from justifying caprices, may be a +confession that one does not wish to correct them. + +For myself, I take the liberty of being of a different opinion from +the multitude. It is enough for me that it is not impossible to +conquer one's inclination to condemn all those who are unreasonable or +dishonorable. Dear me! Have we not seen women succeed in destroying in +their hearts a weakness which has taken them by surprise, as soon as +they have discovered that the object of their affections was unworthy +of them? How often have they stifled the most tender affection, and +sacrificed it to the conventionalities of an establishment? Rest, +time, absence, are remedies which passion, however ardent one may have +supposed it, can never resist; insensibly it weakens, and dies all at +once. I know that to withdraw honorably from such a liaison requires +all the strength of reason. I comprehend still more, that the +difficulties you imagine stand in the way of maintaining a victory, do +not leave you enough courage to undertake it; so that, although I may +say that there are no invincible inclinations in the speculation, I +will admit that there are few of them to be vanquished by practice; +and it happens so, only because one does not like to attempt without +success. However that may be, on the whole, I imagine that there being +here only a question of gallantry, it would be folly to put you to the +torture, in order to destroy the inclination which has seized upon you +for a woman more or less amiable; but also, because you are not +smitten with anyone, I persist in saying that I was right in +describing to you the character which I believed would be the most +capable of making you happy. + +It is without doubt to be desired, that delicate sentiments, real +merit, should have more power over our hearts, and that they might be +able to occupy them and find a permanent place there forever. But +experience proves that this is not so. I do not reason from what you +should be, but from what you really are. My intention is to give you a +knowledge of the heart such as it is, and not what it ought to be. I +am the first one to regret the depravity of your taste, however +indulgent I may be to your caprices. But not being able to reform the +vices of the heart, I would at least teach you to draw out of them +whatever good you can. Not being able to render you wise, I try to +make you happy. It is an old saying: to wish to destroy the passions +would be to undertake our annihilation. It is only necessary to +regulate them. They are in our hands like the poison in a pharmacy; +compounded by a skillful chemist they become beneficent remedies. + + + + +VII + +Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo From Men + + +Oh, who doubts, Marquis, that it may be only by essential qualities +that you can succeed in pleasing women? It is simply a question of +knowing what meaning you attach to this expression. Do you call +essential qualities, worth, firmness of character, precision of +judgment, extent of learning, prudence, discretion, how can I tell the +number of virtues which often embarrass you more than they make you +happy? Our minds are not in accord upon this matter. Reserve all the +qualities I have specified for the intercourse you are obliged to have +with men, they are quite proper under such circumstances. But when it +comes to gallantry, you will have to change all such virtues for an +equal number of charming traits; those that captivate, it is the only +coin that passes current in this country; it is the only merit, and +you must be on your guard against calling it spurious money. It may be +that true merit consists less in real perfection than in that which +the world requires. It is far more advantageous to possess the +qualities agreeable to those whom we desire to please, than to have +those we believe to be estimable. In a word, we must imitate the +morals and even the caprices of those with whom we associate, if we +expect to live in peace with them. + +What is the destiny of women? What is their role on earth? It is to +please. Now, a charming figure, personal graces, in a word, all the +amiable and brilliant qualities are the only means of succeeding in +that role. Women possess them to a superlative degree, and it is in +these qualities that they wish men to resemble them. It will be vain +for you to accuse them of frivolity, for they are playing the beauty +role, since they are destined to make you happy. Is it not, indeed, +due to the charm of our companionship, to the gentleness of our +manners, that you owe your most satisfying pleasures, your social +virtues, in fact, your whole happiness? Have some good faith in this +matter. Is it possible for the sciences of themselves, the love of +glory, valor, nay, even that friendship of which you boast so much, to +make you perfectly happy? The pleasure you draw from any of them, can +it be keen enough to make you feel happy? Certainly not. None of them +have the power to relieve you from a wearisome monotony which crushes +you and makes you an object of pity. + +It is women who have taken upon themselves to dissipate these mortal +languors by the vivacious gayety they inject into their society; by +the charms they know so well how to lavish where they will prove +effectual. A reckless joy, an agreeable delirium, a delicious +intoxication, are alone capable of awakening your attention, and +making you understand that you are really happy, for, Marquis, there +is a vast difference between merely enjoying happiness and relishing +the sensation of enjoying it. The possession of necessary things does +not make a man comfortable, it is the superfluous which makes him +rich, and which makes him feel that he is rich. + +It is not because you possess superior qualities that you are a +pleasant companion, it may be a real defect which is essential to you. +To be received with open arms, you must be agreeable, amusing, +necessary to the pleasure of others. I warn you that you can not +succeed in any other manner, particularly with women. Tell me, what +would you have me do with your learning, the geometry of your mind, +with the precision of your memory, etc.? If you have only such +advantages, Marquis, if you have no charming accomplishments to offset +your crudity--I can vouch for their opinion--far from pleasing women, +you will seem to them like a critic of whom they will be afraid, and +you will place them under so much constraint, that the enjoyment they +might have permitted themselves in your society will be banished. Why, +indeed, try to be amiable toward a man who is a source of anxiety to +you by his nonchalance, who does not unbosom himself? Women are not at +their ease except with those who take chances with them, and enter +into their spirit. In a word, too much circumspection gives others a +chill like that felt by a man who goes out of a warm room into a cold +wind. I intended to say that habitual reserve locks the doors of the +hearts of those who associate with us; they have no room to expand. + +You must also bear this in mind, Marquis, that in cases of gallantry, +your first advances must be made under the most favorable +circumstances. You must have read somewhere, that one pleases more by +agreeable faults than by essential qualities. Great virtues are like +pieces of gold of which one makes less use than of ordinary currency. + +This idea calls to my mind those people who, in place of our kind of +money, use shells as their medium of exchange. Well, do you imagine +that these people are not so rich as we with all the treasures of the +new world? We might, at first blush, take this sort of wealth as +actual poverty, but we should be quickly undeceived upon reflection, +for metals have no value except in opinion. Our gold would be false +money to those people. Now, the qualities you call essential are not +worth any more in cases of gallantry, where only pebbles are +sufficient. What matters the conventional mark provided there is +commerce? + +Now, this is my conclusion: If it be true, as you can not doubt, that +you ought not to expect happiness except from an interchange of +agreeable qualities in women, you may be sure that you will never +please them unless you possess advantages similar to theirs. I stick +to the point. You men are constantly boasting about your science, your +firmness, etc., but tell me, how weary would you not be, how disgusted +even, with life, if, always logical, you were condemned to be forever +learned and sordid, to live only in the company of philosophers? I +know you, you would soon become weary of admiration for your good +qualities, and the way you are made, you would rather do without +virtue than pleasure. Do not amuse yourself, then, by holding +yourself out as a man with great qualities in the sense you consider +them. True merit is that which is esteemed by those we aim to please. +Gallantry has its own laws, and Marquis, amiable men are the sages of +this world. + + + + +VIII + +The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause. + + +This time, Marquis, you have not far to go, your hour has come. The +diagnosis you give me of your condition tells me that you are in love. +The young widow you mention is certainly capable of rousing an +inspiration in your heart. The Chevalier de ---- has given me a very +favorable portrait of her. But scarcely do you begin to feel a few +scruples, than you turn into a crime the advice I have been giving +you. The disorder which love brings to the soul, and the other evils +which follow in its train, appear to you, so you say, more to be +feared than the pleasures it gives are to be desired. + +It is true that some very good people are of the opinion that the +sorrows of love are about equal to its pleasures, but without entering +upon a tiresome discussion to ascertain whether they are right or +wrong, if you would have my opinion, here it is: Love is a passion +which is neither good nor bad of itself; it is only those who are +affected by it that determine whether it is good or bad. All that I +shall say in its favor is, that it gives us an advantage with which +any of the discomforts of life can not enter into comparison. It drags +us out of the rut, it stirs us up, and it is love which satisfies one +of our most pressing wants. I think I have already told you that our +hearts are made for emotion; to excite it therefore, is to satisfy a +demand of nature. What would vigorous youth be without love? A long +illness: it would not be existence, it would be vegetating. Love is to +our hearts what winds are to the sea. They grow into tempests, true; +they are sometimes even the cause of shipwrecks. But the winds render +the sea navigable, their constant agitation of its surface is the +cause of its preservation, and if they are often dangerous, it is for +the pilot to know how to navigate in safety. + +But I have wandered from my text, and return to it. Though I shock +your sensitive delicacy by my frank speaking, I shall add, that +besides the need of having our emotions stirred, we have in connection +with them a physical machinery, which is the primitive cause and +necessity of love. Perhaps it is not too modest for a woman to use +such language to you, but you will understand that I would not talk to +every one so plainly. We are not engaged in what may be called "nice" +conversation, we are philosophizing. If my discussions seem to you to +be sometimes too analytical for a woman, remember what I told you in +my last letter. From the time I was first able to reason, I made up my +mind to investigate and ascertain which of the two sexes was the more +favored. I saw that men were not at all stinted in the distribution of +the roles to be played, and I therefore became a man. + +If I were you, I would not investigate whether it be a good or a bad +thing to fall in love. I would prefer to have you ask whether it is +good or bad to be thirsty; or, that it be forbidden to give one a +drink because there are men who become intoxicated. Inasmuch as you +are not at liberty to divest yourself of an appetite belonging to the +mechanical part of your nature, as could our ancient romancers, do not +ruin yourself by speculating and meditating on the greater or less +advantages in loving. Take love as I have advised you to take it, only +do not let it be to you a passion, only an amusement. + +I understand what you are going to say: you are going to overwhelm me +again with your great principles, and tell me that a man has not +sufficient control over his feelings to stop when he would. Pooh! I +regard those who talk in that fashion in the same light as the man, +who believes he is in honor bound to show great sorrow on the occasion +of a loss or accident, which his friends consider great, but which is +nothing to him. Such a man feels less than any one the need of +consolation, but he finds pleasure in showing his tears. He rejoices +to know that he possesses a heart capable of excessive emotion, and +this softens it still more. He feeds it with sorrow, he makes an idol +of it, and offers it incense so often that he acquires the habit. All +such admirers of great and noble sentiments, spoiled by romances or by +prudes, make it a point of honor to spiritualize their passion. By +force of delicate treatment, they become all the more infatuated with +it, as they deem it to be their own work, and they fear nothing so +much as the shame of returning to common sense and resuming their +manhood. + +Let us take good care, Marquis, not to make ourselves ridiculous in +this way. This fashion of straining our intelligence is nothing more, +in the age in which we are living, than playing the part of fools. In +former times people took it into their heads that love should be +something grave, they considered it a serious matter, and esteemed it +only in proportion to its dignity. Imagine exacting dignity from a +child! Away would go all its graces, and its youth would soon become +converted into old age. How I pity our good ancestors! What with them +was a mortal weariness, a melancholy frenzy, is with us a gay folly, a +delicious delirium. Fools that they were, they preferred the horrors +of deserts and rocks, to the pleasures of a garden strewn with +flowers. What prejudices the habit of reflection has brought upon us! + +The proof that great sentiments are nothing but chimeras of pride and +prejudice, is, that in our day, we no longer witness that taste for +ancient mystic gallantry, no more of those old fashioned gigantic +passions. Ridicule the most firmly established opinions, I will go +further, deride the feelings that are believed to be the most natural +and soon both will disappear, and men will stand amazed to see that +ideas for which they possessed a sort of idolatry, are in reality +nothing but trifles which pass away like the ever changing fashions. + +You will understand, then, Marquis, that it is not necessary to +acquire the habit of deifying the fancy you entertain for the +Countess. You will know, at last, that love to be worthy of the name, +and to make us happy, far from being treated as a serious affair, +should be fostered lightly, and above all with gayety. Nothing can +make you understand more clearly the truth of what I am telling you, +than the result of your adventure, for I believe the Countess to be +the last woman in the world to harbor a sorrowful passion. You, with +your high sentiments will give her the blues, mark what I tell you. + +My indisposition continues, and I would feel like telling you that I +never go out during the day, but would not that be giving you a +rendezvous? If, however, you should come and give me your opinion of +the "Bajazet" of Racine, you would be very kind. They say that the +Champmesle has surpassed herself. + +I have read over this letter, Marquis, and the lecture it contains +puts me out of humor with you. I recognize the fact that truth is a +contagious disease. Judge how much of it goes into love, since you +bestow it even upon those who aim to undeceive you. It is quite +strange, that in order to prove that love should be treated with +levity, it was necessary to assume a serious tone. + + + + +IX + +Love is a Natural Inclination + + +So you have taken what I said about love in my last letter as a crime? +I have blasphemed love; I have degraded it by calling it a +"necessity?" You have such noble thoughts, Marquis. What is passing in +your mind is proof of it. You can not realize, or imagine anything +less than the pure and delicate sentiments which fill your heart. To +see the Countess, hold sweet discourse with her, listen to the sound +of her gentle voice, dance attendance upon her, that is the height of +your desires, it is your supreme happiness. Far from you are those +vulgar sentiments which I unworthily substitute for your sublime +metaphysics; sentiments created for worldly souls occupied solely with +sensual pleasures. What a mistake I made! Could I imagine that the +Countess was a woman to be captured by motives so little worthy of +her? To raise the suspicion in her mind that you possessed such views, +would it not inevitably expose you to her hate, her scorn, etc.? + +Are not these the inconveniences which my morality leads you to +apprehend? My poor Marquis! you are yourself deceived by your +misunderstanding of the real cause of your sentiments. Give me all +your attention: I wish to draw you away from error, but in a manner +that will best accord with the importance of what I am about to say. I +mount the tribune; I feel the presence of the god who inspires me. I +rub my forehead with the air of a person who meditates on profound +truths, and who is going to utter great thoughts. I am going to reason +according to rule. + +Men, I know not by what caprice, have attached shame to the indulgence +of that reciprocal inclination which nature has bestowed upon both +sexes. They knew, however, that they could not entirely stifle its +voice, so what did they do to relieve themselves of their +embarrassment? They attempted to substitute the mere shell of an +affection wholly spiritual for the humiliating necessity of appearing +in good faith to satisfy a natural want. Insensibly, they have grown +accustomed to meddle with a thousand little sublime nothings connected +with it, and as if that were not enough, they have at last succeeded +in establishing the belief that all these frivolous accessories, the +work of a heated imagination, constitute the essence of the +inclination. There you are; love erected into a fine virtue; at least +they have given it the appearance of a virtue. But let us break +through this prestige and cite an example. + +At the beginning of their intercourse, lovers fancy themselves +inspired by the noblest and most delicate sentiments. They exhaust +their ingenuity, exaggerations, the enthusiasm of the most exquisite +metaphysics; they are intoxicated for a time with the idea that their +love is a superior article. But let us follow them in their liaison: +Nature quickly recovers her rights and re-assumes her sway; soon, +vanity, gorged with the display of an exaggerated purpose, leaves the +heart at liberty to feel and express its sentiments without restraint, +and dissatisfied with the pleasures of love, the day comes when these +people are very much surprised to find themselves, after having +traveled around a long circuit, at the very point where a peasant, +acting according to nature, would have begun. And thereby hangs a +tale. + +A certain Honesta, to give her a fictitious name, in whose presence I +was one day upholding the theory I have just been maintaining, became +furious. + +"What!" she exclaimed in a transport of indignation, "do you pretend, +Madame, that a virtuous person, one who possesses only honest +intentions, such as marriage, is actuated by such vulgar motives? You +would believe, in that case, that I, for instance, who 'par vertu,' +have been married three times, and who, to subdue my husbands, have +never wished to have a separate apartment, that I only acted thus to +procure what you call pleasure? Truly you would be very much mistaken. +Indeed, never have I refused to fulfill the duties of my state, but I +assure you that the greater part of the time, I yielded to them only +through complaisance, or as a distraction, always with regret at the +importunities of men. We love men and marry them because they have +certain qualities of mind and heart; and no woman, with the exception +of those, perhaps, whom I do not care to name, even attaches any +importance to other advantages----" + +I interrupted her, and more through malice than good taste, carried +the argument to its logical conclusion. I made her see that what she +said was a new proof of my contention: + +"The reasons you draw from the legitimate views of marriage," said I, +"prove that those who hold them, fend to the same end as two ordinary +lovers, perhaps, even in better faith, with this difference only, that +they wish an extra ceremony attached to it." + +This shot roused the indignation of my adversary. + +"You join impiety to libertinage," said she, moving away from me. + +I took the liberty of making some investigations, and would you +believe it, Marquis? This prude so refined, had such frequent +'distractions' with her three husbands, who were all young and +vigorous, that she buried them in a very short time. + +Come now, Marquis, retract your error; abandon your chimera, reserve +delicacy of sentiment for friendship; accept love for what it is. The +more dignity you give it, the more dangerous you make it; the more +sublime the idea you form of it, the less correct it is. Believe de la +Rochefoucauld, a man who knows the human heart well: "If you expect to +love a woman for love of herself," says he, "you will be much +mistaken." + + + + +X + +The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's Nature + + +The commentaries the Countess has been making you about her virtue, +and the refinement she expects in a lover, have certainly alarmed you. +You think she will always be as severe as she now appears to you. All +I have told you does not reassure you. You even esteem it a favor to +me that you stop with doubting my principles. If you dared you would +condemn them entirely. When you talk to me in that fashion, I feel at +liberty to say that I believe you. It is not your fault if you do not +see clearly into your own affair, but in proportion as you advance, +the cloud will disappear, and you will perceive with surprise the +truth of what I have been telling you. + +The more cold blooded you are, or at least, as long as passion has not +yet reached that degree of boldness its progress will ultimately lead +you to, the mere hope of the smallest favor is a crime; you tremble at +the most innocent caress. At first you ask for nothing, or for so +slight a favor, that a woman conscientiously believes herself obliged +to grant it, delighted with you on account of your modesty. To obtain +this slight favor, you protest never to ask another, and yet, even +while making your protestations, you are preparing to exact more. She +becomes accustomed to it and permits further trifling, which seems to +be of so little importance that she would endure it from any other +man, if she were on the slightest terms of intimacy with him. But, to +judge from the result, what appears to be of so little consequence on +one day when compared with the favor obtained the day before, becomes +very considerable when compared with that obtained on the first day. A +woman, re-assured by your discretion, does not perceive that her +frailties are being graduated upon a certain scale. She is so much +mistress of herself, and the little things which are at first exacted, +appear to her to be so much within her power of refusal, that she +expects to possess the same strength when something of a graver +character is proposed to her. It is just this way: she flatters +herself that her power of resistance will increase in the same +proportion with the importance of the favors she will be called upon +to grant. She relies so entirely upon her virtue, that she challenges +danger by courting it. She experiments with her power of resistance; +she wishes to see how far the granting of a few unimportant favors can +lead her. Here is where she is imprudent, for by her very rashness she +accustoms her imagination to contemplate suggestions which are the +final cause of her seduction. She travels a long way on the road +without perceiving that she has moved a single step. If upon looking +back along the route, she is surprised at having yielded so much, her +lover will be no less surprised at having obtained so much. + +But I go still further. I am persuaded that love is not always +necessary to bring about the downfall of a woman. I knew a woman, who, +although amiable in her manner with everybody, had never been +suspected of any affair of the heart. Fifteen years of married life +had not diminished her tenderness for her husband, and their happy +union could be cited as an example to imitate. + +One day at her country place, her friends amused themselves so late +that they were constrained to remain at her house all night. In the +morning, her servants happening to be occupied with her guests, she +was alone in her apartment engaged in making her toilet. A man whom +she knew quite well, but who was without social position, dropped in +for a short visit and to pass the compliments of the day. Some +perplexity in her toilette, induced him to offer his services. The +neglige dress she wore, naturally gave him an opportunity to +compliment her upon her undiminished charms. Of course she protested, +but laughingly, claiming they were unmerited. However, one thing +followed another, they became a trifle sentimental, a few +familiarities which they did not at first deem of any consequence, +developed into something more decided, until, finally, unable to +resist, they were both overcome, the woman being culpable, for she +regarded his advances in the nature of a joke and let them run on. +What was their embarrassment after such a slip? They have never since +been able to understand how they could have ventured so far without +having had the slightest intention of so doing. + +I am tempted to exclaim here: Oh, you mortals who place too much +reliance upon your virtue, tremble at this example! Whatever may be +your strength, there are, unfortunately, moments when the most +virtuous is the most feeble. The reason for this strange phenomenon +is, that nature is always on the watch; always aiming to attain her +ends. The desire for love is, in a woman, a large part of her nature. +Her virtue is nothing but a piece of patchwork. + +The homilies of your estimable Countess may be actually sincere, +although in such cases, a woman always exaggerates, but she deludes +herself if she expects to maintain to the end, sentiments so severe +and so delicate. Fix this fact well in your mind, Marquis, that these +female metaphysicians are not different in their nature from other +women. Their exterior is more imposing, their morals more austere, but +inquire into their acts, and you will discover that their heart +affairs always finish the same as those of women less refined. They +are a species of the "overnice," forming a class of their own, as I +told Queen Christine of Sweden, one day: "They are the Jansenists of +love." (Puritans.) + +You should be on your guard, Marquis, against everything women have to +say on the chapter of gallantry. All the fine systems of which they +make such a pompous display, are nothing but vain illusions, which +they utilize to astonish those who are easily deceived. In the eyes of +a clear sighted man, all this rubbish of stilted phrases is but a +parade at which he mocks, and which does not prevent him from +penetrating their real sentiments. The evil they speak of love, the +resistance they oppose to it, the little taste they pretend for its +pleasures, the measures they take against it, the fear they have of +it, all that springs from love itself. Their very manner renders it +homage, indicates that they harbor the thought of it. Love assumes a +thousand different forms in their minds. Like pride, it lives and +flourishes upon its own defeat; it is never overthrown that it does +not spring up again with renewed force. + +What a letter, good heavens! To justify its length would be to +lengthen it still more. + + + + +XI + +The Distinction Between Love and Friendship + + +I was delighted with your letter, Marquis. Do you know why? Because it +gives me speaking proof of the truth of what I have been preaching to +you these latter days. Ah! for once you have forgotten all your +metaphysics. You picture to me the charms of the Countess with a +complacency which demonstrates that your sentiments are not altogether +so high flown as you would have me believe, and as you think down in +your heart. Tell me frankly: if your love were not the work of the +senses, would you take so much pleasure in considering that form, +those eyes which enchant you, that mouth which you describe to me in +such glowing colors? If the qualities of heart and mind alone seduce +you, a woman of fifty is worth still more in that respect than the +Countess. You see such a one every day, it is her mother; why not +become enamored of her instead? Why neglect a hundred women of her +age, of her plainness, and of her merit, who make advances to you, and +who would enact the same role with you that you play with the +Countess? Why do you desire with so much passion to be distinguished +by her from other men? Why are you uneasy when she shows them the +least courtesy? Does her esteem for them diminish that which she +pretends for you? Are rivalries and jealousies recognized in +metaphysics? I believe not I have friends and I do not observe such +things in them; I feel none in my own heart when they love other +women. + +Friendship is a sentiment which has nothing to do with the senses; the +soul alone receives the impression of it, and the soul loses nothing +of its value by giving itself up to several at the same time. Compare +friendship with love, and you will perceive the difference between a +desire which governs a friend, and that which offers itself to a +lover. You will confess, that at heart, I am not so unreasonable as +you at first thought, and that it might be very well if it should +happen that in love, you might have a soul as worldly as that of a +good many people, whom it pleases you to accuse of very little +refinement. + +I do not wish, however, to bring men alone to trial. I am frank, and I +am quite sure that if women would be honest, they would soon confess +that they are not a bit more refined than men. Indeed, if they saw in +love only the pleasures of the soul, if they hoped to please only by +their mental accomplishments and their good character, honestly, now, +would they apply themselves with such particular care to please by the +charms of their person? What is a beautiful skin to the soul; an +elegant figure; a well shaped arm? What contradictions between their +real sentiments and those they exhibit on parade! Look at them, and +you will be convinced that they have no intention of making themselves +valued except by their sensual attractions, and that they count +everything else as nothing. Listen to them: you will be tempted to +believe that it is not worldly things which they consider the least. I +think I deserve credit for trying to dispel your error in this +respect, and ought I not to expect everything from the care they will +take to undeceive you themselves? Perhaps they will succeed only too +easily in expressing sentiments entirely contrary to those you have +heard to-day from me. + +I am due at Mademoiselle de Raymond's this evening, to hear the two +Camus and Ytier who are going to sing. Mesdames de la Sabliere, de +Salins, and de Monsoreau will also be there. Would you miss such a +fine company? + + + + +XII + +A Man in Love is an Amusing Spectacle + + +You take things too much to heart, Marquis. Already two nights that +you have not slept. Oh! it is true love, there is no mistaking that. +You have made your eyes speak, you, yourself, have spoken quite +plainly, and not the slightest notice has been taken of your +condition. Such behavior calls for revenge. Is it possible that after +eight whole days of devoted attention she has not given you the least +hope? Such a thing can not be easily imagined. Such a long resistance +begins to pass beyond probability. The Countess is a heroine of the +last century. But if you are beginning to lose patience, you can +imagine the length of time you would have had to suffer, if you had +continued to proclaim grand and noble sentiments. You have already +accomplished more in eight days than the late Celadon could in eight +months. However, to speak seriously, are your complaints just? You +call the Countess ungrateful, insensible, disdainful, etc. But by what +right do you talk thus? Will you never believe what I have told you a +hundred times? Love is a veritable caprice, involuntary, even in one +who experiences its pangs. Why should, you say that the beloved object +is bound to recompense a blind sentiment acquired without her +connivance? + +You are very queer, you men. You consider yourselves offended because +a woman does not respond with eagerness to the languishing looks you +deign to cast upon her. Your revolted pride immediately accuses her of +injustice, as if it were her fault that your head is turned; as if she +were obliged, at a certain stage, to be seized with the same disease +as you. Tell me this: is the Countess responsible if she is not +afflicted with the same delirium as soon as you begin to rave? Cease, +then, to accuse her and to complain, and to try to communicate your +malady to her; I know you, you are seductive enough. Perhaps she will +feel, too soon for her peace of mind, sentiments commensurate with +your desires. I believe she has in her everything to subjugate you, +and to inspire you with the taste I hope will be for your happiness, +but so far, I do not think she is susceptible of a very serious +attachment. + +Vivacious, inconsistent, positive, decided, she can not fail to give +you plenty of exercise. An attentive and caressing woman would weary +you; you must be handled in a military fashion, if you are to be +amused and retained. As soon as the mistress assumes the role of +lover, love begins to weaken; it does more, it rises like a tyrant, +and ends in disdain which leads directly to disgust and inconstancy. +Have you found, perchance, everything you required in the little +mistress who is the cause of your dolorous martyrdom? Poor Marquis! +What storms will blow over you. What quarrels I foresee! How many +vexations, how many threats to leave her! But do not forget this: So +much emotion will become your punishment, if you treat love after the +manner of a hero of romance, and you will meet a fate entirely the +contrary if you treat it like a reasonable man. + +But ought I to continue to write you? The moments you employ to read +my letters will be so many stolen from love. Great Heavens! how I +should like to be a witness of your situations! Indeed, for a +sober-minded person, is there a spectacle more amusing than the +contortions of a man in love? + + + + +XIII + +Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love. + + +You are not satisfied, then, Marquis, with what I so cavalierly said +about your condition? You wish me by all means to consider your +adventure as a serious thing, but I shall take good care not to do so. +Do you not see that my way of treating you is consistent with my +principles? I speak lightly of a thing I believe to be frivolous, or +simply amusing. When it comes to an affair on which depends a lasting +happiness, you will see me take on an appropriate tone. I do not want +to pity you, because it depends upon yourself whether you are to be +pitied or not. By a trick of your imagination, what now appears to be +a pain to you may become a pleasure. To succeed, make use of my recipe +and you will find it good. But to refer to the second paragraph of +your letter: + +You say you are all the more surprised at the coldness of the Countess +as you did not think it in earnest. According to what you say, your +conjectures are based on the indiscretions of her friends. The good +she spoke about you to them, was the main cause of your taking a fancy +to her. I know men by this trait. The smallest word that escapes a +woman's lips leads them into the belief that she has designs upon +them. Everything has some reference to their merits; their vanity +seizes upon everything, and they turn everything into profit. To +examine them closely, nearly all of them love through gratitude, and +on this point, women are not any more reasonable. So that gallantry is +an intercourse in which we want the others to go along with us, always +want to be their debtors. And you know pride is much more active in +paying back than in giving. If two lovers would mutually explain, +without reservation, the beginning and progress of their passion, what +confidences would they not exchange? + +Elise, to whom Valere uttered a few general compliments, responded, +perhaps without intending to, in a more affectionate manner than is +usual in the case of such insipidities. It was enough. Valere is +carried away with the idea that from a gallant he must become a lover. +The fire is insensibly kindled on both sides; finally, it bursts +forth, and there you are, a budding passion. If you should charge +Elise with having made the first advances, nothing would appear more +unjust to her, and yet nothing could be more true. I conclude from +this that to take love for what it really is, it is less the work of +what is called invincible sympathy, than that of our vanity. Notice +the birth of all love affairs. They begin by the mutual praises we +bestow upon each other. It has been said that it is folly which +conducts love; I should say that it is flattery, and that it can not +be introduced into the heart of a belle until after paying tribute to +her vanity. Add to all this, the general desire and inclination we +have to be loved, and we are bravely deceived. Like those enthusiasts +who, by force of imagination, believe they can really see the images +they conjure up in their minds, we fancy that we can see in others the +sentiments we desire to find there. + +Be careful, then, Marquis, not to let yourself be blinded by a false +notion. The Countess may have spoken well of you with the sole object +of doing you justice, without carrying her intention any farther. And +be sure you are wrong when you suspect her of insincerity in your +regard. After all, why should you not prefer to have her dissemble her +sentiments toward you, if you are the source of their inspiration? Are +not women in the right to hide carefully their sentiments from you, +and does not the bad use you make of the certainty of their love +justify them in so doing? + + + + +XIV + +Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in Love + + +No, Marquis, the curiosity of Madame de Sevigne has not offended me. +On the contrary, I am very glad that she wished to see the letters you +receive from me. Without doubt, she thought that if it were a question +of gallantry, it could only be to my profit; she now knows the +contrary. She will also know that I am not so frivolous as she +imagined, and I believe her just enough to form hereafter another idea +of Ninon than the one she has heretofore had of her, for I am not +ignorant of the fact that she does not speak of me much to my +advantage. But her injustice will never influence my friendship for +you. I am philosophic enough to console myself for not securing the +commendation of people who judge me without knowing me. Whatever may +happen, I shall continue to talk to you with my ordinary frankness, +and I am sure that Madame de Sevigne, in spite of her refined mind, +will, at heart, be more of my opinion than she cares to show. Now, I +come to what relates to you. + +Well, Marquis, after infinite care and trouble, you think you have at +last softened that stony heart? I am glad of it; but I laugh at your +interpretation of the Countess' sentiments. You share with all men a +common error which it is necessary to remove, however flattering it +may be to you to foster it. You believe, every one of you, that it is +your worth alone that kindles passion in the heart of women, and that +qualities of heart and mind are the causes of the love they feel +toward you. What a mistake! You only think so, it is true, because +your pride finds satisfaction in the thought. But, if you can do so +without prejudice, inquire into the motives that actuate you, and you +will soon perceive that you are laboring under a delusion, and that we +deceive you; that, everything well considered, you are the dupe of +your vanity and of ours; that the worth of the person loved is only an +excuse which gives an occasion for love, and is not the real cause. +Finally, that all this sublime by-play, which is paraded on both +sides, is a mere preliminary which enters into the desire to satisfy +the need I first indicated to you as the prime exciting cause of this +passion. I tell you this is a hard and humiliating truth, but it is +none the less certain. We women enter the world with this necessity of +loving undefined, and if we take one man in preference to another, let +us say so honestly, we yield less to the knowledge of merit than to a +mechanical instinct which is nearly always blind. + +For proof of this I need only refer to the foolish passions with which +we sometimes become intoxicated for strangers, or at least for men +with whom we are not sufficiently acquainted, to relieve our selection +of them from the odium of imprudence from the beginning; in which case +if there is a mutual response, well, it is pure chance. We are always +forming attachments without sufficient circumspection, hence I am not +wrong in comparing love to an appetite which one sometimes feels for +one kind of food rather than for another, without being able to give +the reason. I am very cruel to thus dissipate the phantoms of your +self love, but I am telling you the truth. You are flattered by the +love of a woman, because you believe it implies the worthiness of the +object loved. You do her too much honor: let us say rather, that you +have too good an opinion of yourself. Understand that it is not for +yourself that we love you, to speak with sincerity, it is our own +happiness we seek. Caprice, interest, vanity, disposition, the +uneasiness that affects our hearts when they are unoccupied, these are +the sources of the great sentiment we wish to deify! It is not great +qualities that affect us; if they enter for anything into the reasons +which determine us in your favor, it is not the heart which receives +the impression, it is vanity; and the greater part of the things in +you which please us, very often makes you ridiculous or contemptible. + +But, what will you have? We need an admirer who can entertain us with +ideas of our perfections; we need an obliging person who will submit +to our caprices; we need a man! Chance presents us with one rather +than another; we accept him, but we do not choose him. In a word, you +believe yourselves to be the objects of our disinterested affection. I +repeat: You think women love you for yourselves. Poor dupes! You are +only the instruments of their pleasures, the sport of their caprices. +I must, however, do women justice; it is not that you are what I have +just enumerated with their consent, for the sentiments which I develop +here are not well defined in their minds, on the contrary, with the +best faith in the world, women imagine themselves influenced and +actuated only by the grand ideas which your vanity and theirs has +nourished. It would be a crying injustice to accuse them of deceit in +this respect; but, without being aware of it, they deceive themselves, +and you are equally deceived. + +You see that I am revealing the secrets of the good goddess. Judge of +my friendship, since, at the expense of my own sex, I labor to +enlighten you. The better you know women, the fewer follies they will +lead you to commit. + + + + +XV + +The Hidden Motives of Love + + +Really, Marquis, I do not understand how you can meekly submit to the +serious language I sometimes write you. It seems as if I had no other +aim in my letters than to sweep away your agreeable illusions and +substitute mortifying truths. I must, however, get rid of my mania for +saying deeply considered things. I know better than any one else that +pleasant lies are more agreeable than the most reasonable +conversation, but my disposition breaks through everything in spite of +me. I feel a fit of philosophy upon me again to-day, and I must ask +you to prepare to endure the broadside of morality I am making ready +to give you. Hereafter, I promise you more gayety. So now to answer +your letter. + +No, I will not take back anything. You may make war on me as much as +it please you, because of the bad opinion of my sex I expressed in my +last letter. Is it my fault if I am furnished with disagreeable truths +to utter? Besides, do you not know, Marquis, that the being on earth +who thinks the most evil of women, is a woman? + +I wish, however, very seriously, to justify the ideas, to my manner of +expressing which you have taken an exception. I am neither envious nor +unjust. Because I happened to mention my own sex rather than yours, +you must not imagine that it is my intention to underrate women. I +hoped to make you understand that, without being more culpable than +men, they are more dangerous because they are accustomed more +successfully to hide their sentiments. In effect, you will confess the +object of your love sooner than they will acknowledge theirs. However, +when they assure you that their affection for you has no other source +than a knowledge of your merit and of your good qualities, I am +persuaded that they are sincere. I do not even doubt that when they +realize that their style of thought is becoming less refined, they do +everything in their power to hide the fact from themselves. But the +motives, about which I have been telling you, are in the bottom of +their hearts just the same. They are none the less the true causes of +the liking they have for you, and whatever efforts they may make to +persuade themselves that the causes are wholly spiritual, their desire +changes nothing in the nature of things. They hide this deformity with +as much care as they would conceal teeth that might disfigure an +otherwise perfect face. In such case, even when alone they would be +afraid to open their mouth, and so, by force of habit in hiding this +defect from others as well as from themselves, they succeed in +forgetting all about it or in considering that it is not much of a +defect. + +I agree with you that you would lose too much if men and women were to +show themselves in their true colors. The world has agreed to play a +comedy, and to show real, natural sentiments would not be acting, it +would be substituting the real character for the one it has been +agreed to feign. Let us then enjoy the enchantment without seeking to +know the cause of the charm which amuses and seduces us. To anatomize +love would be to enter upon its cure. Psyche lost it for having been +too curious, and I am tempted to believe that this fable is a lesson +for those who wish to analyze pleasure. + +I wish to make some corrections in what I have said to you: If I told +you that men are wrong in priding themselves on their choice of a +woman, and their sentiments for her; if I said that the motives which +actuate them are nothing less than glorious for the men, I desire to +add, that they are equally deceived if they imagine that the +sentiments which they show with so much pompous display are always +created by force of female charms, or by an abiding impression of +their merits. How often does it happen that those men who make +advances with such a respectful air, who display such delicate and +refined sentiments, so flattering to vanity, who, in a word, seem to +breathe only through them, only for them, and have no other desire +than their happiness; how often, I repeat, are those men, who adorn +themselves with such beautiful sentiments, influenced by reasons +entirely the contrary? Study, penetrate these good souls, and you will +see in the heart of this one, instead of a love so disinterested, only +desire; in that one, it will be only a scheme to share your fortune, +the glory of having obtained a woman of your rank; in a third you +will discover motives still more humiliating to you; he will use you +to rouse the jealousy of some woman he really loves, and he will +cultivate your friendship merely to distinguish himself in her eyes by +rejecting you. I can not tell you how many motives, there are so many. +The human heart is an insolvable enigma. It is a whimsical combination +of all the known contrarieties. We think we know its workings; we see +their effects; we ignore the cause. If it expresses its sentiments +sincerely, even that sincerity is not reassuring. Perhaps its +movements spring from causes entirely contrary to those we imagine we +feel to be the real ones. But, after all, people have adopted the best +plan, that is, to explain everything to their advantage, and to +compensate themselves in imagination for their real miseries, and +accustom themselves, as I think I have already said, to deifying all +their sentiments. Inasmuch as everybody finds in that the summit of +his vanity, nobody has ever thought of reforming the custom, or of +examining it to see whether it is a mistake. + +Adieu; if you desire to come this evening you will find me with those +whose gayety will compensate you for this serious discourse. + + + + +XVI + +How to Be Victorious in Love + + +Is what you write me possible, Marquis, what, the Countess continues +obdurate? The flippant manner in which she receives your attentions +reveals an indifference which grieves you? I think I have guessed the +secret of the riddle. I know you. You are gay, playful, conceited +even, with women as long as they do not impress you. But with those +who have made an impression upon your heart, I have noticed that you +are timid. This quality might affect a bourgeoise, but you must attack +the heart of a woman of the world with other weapons. The Countess +knows the ways of the world. Believe me, and leave to the Celadons, +such things as sublime talk, beautiful sentiments; let them spin out +perfection. I tell you on behalf of women: there is not one of us who +does not prefer a little rough handling to too much consideration. Men +lose through blundering more hearts than virtue saves. + +The more timidity a lover shows with us the more it concerns our pride +to goad him on; the more respect he has for our resistance, the more +respect we demand of him. We would willingly say to you men: "Ah, in +pity's name do not suppose us to be so very virtuous; you are forcing +us to have too much of it. Do not put so high a price upon your +conquest; do not treat our defeat as if it were something difficult. +Accustom our imagination by degrees to seeing you doubt our +indifference." + +When we see a lover, although he may be persuaded of our gratitude, +treat us with the consideration demanded by our vanity, we shall +conclude without being aware of it, that he will always be the same, +although sure of our inclination for him. From that moment, what +confidence will he not inspire? What flattering progress may he not +make? But if he notifies us to be always on our guard, then it is not +our hearts we shall defend; it will not be a battle to preserve our +virtue, but our pride; and that is the worst enemy to be conquered in +women. What more is there to tell you? We are continually struggling +to hide the fact that we have permitted ourselves to be loved. Put a +woman in a position to say that she has yielded only to a species of +violence, or to surprise; persuade her that you do not undervalue her, +and I will answer for her heart. + +You must manage the Countess as her character requires; she is lively, +and playful, and by trifling follies you must lead her to love. Do not +even let her see that she distinguishes you from other men, and be as +playful as she is light hearted. Fix yourself in her heart without +giving her any warning of your intention. She will love you without +knowing it, and some day she will be very much astonished at having +made so much headway without really suspecting it. + + + + +XVII + +Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation + + +Perhaps, Marquis, you will think me still more cruel than the +Countess. She is the cause of your anxieties, it is true, but I am the +cause of something worse; I feel a great desire to laugh at them. Oh, +I enter into your troubles seriously enough, I can not do more, and +your embarrassment appears great to me. Really, why risk a declaration +of love to a woman who takes a wicked pleasure in avoiding it on every +occasion? Now, she appears affected, and then again, she is the most +unmindful woman in the world in spite of all you do to please her. She +listens willingly and replies gaily to the gallant speeches and bold +conversation of a certain Chevalier, a professional coxcomb, but to +you she speaks seriously and with a preoccupied air. If you take on a +tender and affectionate tone, she replies flippantly, or perhaps +changes the subject. All this intimidates you, troubles you, and +drives you to despair. Poor Marquis!--and I answer you, that all this +is love, true and beautiful. The absence of mind which she affects +with you, the nonchalance she puts on for a mask, ought to make you +feel at heart that she is far from being indifferent. But your lack of +boldness, the consequences which she feels must follow such a passion +as yours, the interest which she already takes in your condition, all +this intimidates the countess herself, and it is you who raise +obstacles in her path. A little more boldness on your part would put +you both at your ease. Do you remember what M. de la Rochefoucauld +told you lately: "A reasonable man in love may act like a madman, but +he should not and can not act like an idiot." + +Besides, when you compare your respect and esteem with the free and +almost indecent manner of the Chevalier; when you draw from it the +conclusion that she should prefer you to him, you do not know how +incorrectly you argue. The Chevalier is nothing but a gallant, and +what he says is not worth considering, or at least appears so. +Frivolity alone, the habit of romancing to all the pretty women he +finds in his way, makes him talk. Love counts for nothing, or at least +for very little, in all his liaisons. Like the butterfly, he hovers +only a moment over each flower. An amusing episode is his only object. +So much frivolity is not capable of alarming a woman. She is delighted +at the trifling danger she incurs in listening to such a man. + +The Countess knows very well how to appreciate the discourse of the +Chevalier; and to say everything in a word, she knows him to be a man +whose heart is worn out. Women, who, to hear them talk, go in more for +metaphysics, know admirably how to tell the difference between a lover +of his class and a man like you. But you will always be more +formidable and more to be dreaded by your manner of making yourself +felt. + +You boast to me of your respectful esteem, but I reply that it is +nothing of the kind, and the Countess knows it well. Nothing ends with +so little respect as a passion like yours. Quite different from the +Chevalier, you require recognition, preference, acknowledgment, even +sacrifices. The Countess sees all these pretensions at a glance, or at +least, if in the cloud which still envelops them, she does not +distinguish them clearly, nature gives her a presentiment of what the +cost will be if she allows you the least opportunity to instruct her +in a passion which she doubtless already shares. Women rarely inquire +into the reasons which impel them to give themselves up or to resist; +they do not even amuse themselves by trying to understand or explain +them, but they have feelings, and sentiment with them is correct, it +takes the place of intelligence and reflection. It is a sort of +instinct which warns them in case of danger, and which leads them +aright perhaps as surely as does the most enlightened reason. Your +beautiful Adelaide wishes to enjoy an incognito as long as she can. +This plan is very congenial to her real interests, and yet I am fully +persuaded that it is not the work of reflection. She sees it only from +the point of view of a passion, outwardly constrained, making stronger +impressions and still greater progress inwardly. Let it have an +opportunity to take deep root, and give to this fire she tries to +hide, time to consume the heart in which you wish to confine it. + +You must also admit, Marquis, that you deceive yourself in two ways +in your calculation. You thought you respected the Countess more than +the Chevalier does, on the contrary you see that the gallant speeches +of the Chevalier are without effect, while you begrudge them to the +heart of your beauty. On the other hand, you figure that her +preoccupied air, indifferent and inattentive manner are proofs or +forewarnings of your unhappiness. Undeceive yourself. There is no more +certain proof of a passion than the efforts made to hide it. In a +word, when the Countess treats you kindly, whatever proofs you may +give her of your affection, when she sees you without alarm on the +point of confessing your love, I tell you that her heart is caught; +she loves you, on my word. + +By the way, I forgot to reply to that part of your letter concerning +myself. Yes, Marquis, I constantly follow the method which I +prescribed at the commencement of our correspondence. There are few +matters in my letters that I have not used as subjects of conversation +in my social reunions. I rarely suggest ideas of any importance to +you, without having taken the opinions of my friends on their verity. +Sometimes it is Monsieur de la Bruyere, sometimes Monsieur de +Saint-Evremond whom I consult; another time it will be Monsieur l'Abbe +de Chateauneuf. You must admire my good faith, Marquis, for I might +claim the credit of the good I write you, but I frankly avow that you +owe it only to the people whom I receive at my house. + +Apropos of men of distinguished merit, M. de la Rochefoucauld has +just sent me word that he would like to call on me. I fixed to-morrow, +and you might do well to be present, but do not forget how much he +loves you. Adieu. + + + + +XVIII + +When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of It + + +I have been engaged in some new reflections on the condition you are +in, Marquis, and on the embarrassment in which you continue. After +all, why do you deem it necessary to make a formal declaration of +love? Can it be because you have read about such things in our old +romances, in which the proceedings in courtship were as solemn as +those of the tribunals? That would be too technical. Believe me, let +it alone; as I told you in my last letter, the fire lighted, will +acquire greater force every day, and you will see, that without having +said you love, you will be farther advanced than if you were +frightened by avowals which our fathers insisted should worry the +women. Avowals absolutely useless in themselves, and which always +incumber a passion with several nebulous days. They retard its +progress. Bear this well in mind, Marquis: A woman is much better +persuaded that she is loved by what she guesses than by what she is +told. + +Act as if you had made the declaration which is costing you so much +anxiety; or imitate the Chevalier; take things easy. The way the +Countess conducts herself with him in your presence seems to be a law +in your estimation. With your circumspection and pretended respect, +you present the appearance of a man who meditates an important design, +of a man, in a word, who contemplates a wrong step. Your exterior is +disquieting to a woman who knows the consequences of a passion such as +yours. Remember that as long as you let it appear that you are making +preparations for an attack, you will find her on the defensive. Have +you ever heard of a skillful general, who intends to surprise a +citadel, announce his design to the enemy upon whom the storm is to +descend? In love as in war, does any one ever ask the victor whether +he owes his success to force or skill? He has conquered, he receives +the crown, his desires are gratified, he is happy. Follow his example +and you will meet the same fate. Hide your progress; do not disclose +the extent of your designs until it is no longer possible to oppose +your success, until the combat is over, and the victory gained before +you have declared war. In a word, imitate those warlike people whose +designs are not known except by the ravaged country through which they +have passed. + + + + +XIX + +Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy + + +At last, Marquis, you are listened to dispassionately when you protest +your love, and swear by everything lovers hold sacred that you will +always love. Will you believe my predictions another time? However, +you would be better treated if you were more reasonable, so you are +told, and limit your sentiments to simple friendship. The name of +lover assumed by you is revolting to the Countess. You should never +quarrel over quality when it is the same under any name, and follow +the advice Madame de la Sabliere gives you in the following madrigal: + + Belise ne veut point d'amant, + Mais voudrait un ami fidele, +Qui pour elle eut des soins et de l'empressement, + Et qui meme la trouvat belle. + Amants, qui soupirez pour elle, + Sur ma parole tenez bon, +Belise de l'amour ne hait que le nom. + + (Belise for a lover sighed not, + But she wanted a faithful friend, +Who would cuddle her up and care for her lot, + And even her beauty defend. + Oh, you lovers, whose sighs I commend, +'Pon my word, hold fast to such game, +What of love Belise hates is only the name.) + +But you are grieved by the injurious doubts cast upon your sincerity +and constancy. You are disbelieved because all men are false and +perjured, and because they are inconstant, love is withheld. How +fortunate you are! How little the Countess knows her own heart, if she +expects to persuade you of her indifference in that fashion! Do you +wish me to place a true value on the talk she is giving you? She is +very much affected by the passion you exhibit for her, but the +warnings and sorrows of her friends have convinced her that the +protestations of men are generally false. I do not conceive any +injustice in this, for I, who do not flatter men willingly, am +persuaded that they are usually sincere on such occasions. They become +amorous of a woman, that is they experience the desire of possession. +The enchanting image of that possession bewitches them; they calculate +that the delights connected with it will never end; they do not +imagine that the fire which consumes them can ever weaken or die out; +such a thing seems impossible to them. Hence they swear with the best +faith in the world to love us always; and to cast a doubt upon their +sincerity would be inflicting a mortal injury. + +But the poor fellows make more promises than they can keep. They do +not perceive that their heart has not enough energy always to hold the +same object. They cease to love without knowing why. They are good +enough to be scrupulous over their growing coldness. Long after love +has fled they continue to insist that they still love. They exert +themselves to no purpose, and after having tormented themselves as +long as they can bear it, they surrender to dissatisfaction, and +become inconstant with as much good faith as they possessed when they +protested that they would be forever constant. Nothing is simpler and +easier to explain. The fermentation of a budding love, excited in +their heart the charm that seduced them; by and by, the enchantment is +dispelled, and nonchalance follows. With what can they be charged? +They counted upon keeping their vows. Dear me, how many women are too +happy with what is lacking, since men give them a free rein to their +lightness! + +However this may be, the Countess has charged up to you the +inconstancy of your equals; she apprehends that you are no better than +all other lovers. Ready to yield to you, however little you may be +able to reassure her, she is trying to find reasons for believing you +sincere. The love you protest for her does not offend her. What am I +saying? It enchants her. She is so much flattered by it, that her sole +fear is that it may not be true. Dissipate her alarms, show her that +the happiness you offer her and of which she knows the price, is not +an imaginary happiness. Go farther; persuade her that she will enjoy +it forever, and her resistance will disappear, her doubts will vanish, +and she will seize upon everything that will destroy her suspicions +and uncertainty. She would have already believed you; already she +would have resolved to yield to the pleasure of being loved, if she +had believed herself really loved, and that it would last forever. + +How maladroit women are if they imagine that by their fears and their +doubts of the sincerity and constancy of men, they can make any one +believe they are fleeing from love, or despise it! As soon as they +fear they will be deceived in the enjoyment of its pleasures; when +they fear they will not long enjoy it, they already know the charms of +it, and the only source of anxiety then is, that they will be deprived +of its enjoyment too soon. Forever haunted by this fear, and attacked +by the powerful inclination toward pleasure, they hesitate, they +tremble with the apprehension that they will not be permitted to enjoy +it but just long enough to make the privation of it more painful. +Hence, Marquis, you may very easily conjecture a woman who talks to +you as does the Countess, using this language: + +"I can imagine all the delights of love. The idea I have formed of it +is quite seductive. Do you think that deep in my heart I desire to +enjoy its charms less than you? But the more its image is ravishing to +my imagination, the more I fear it is not real, and I refuse to yield +to it lest my happiness be too soon destroyed. Ah, if I could only +hope that my happiness might endure, how feeble would be my +resistance? But will you not abuse my credulity? Will you not some day +punish me for having had too much confidence in you? At least is that +day very far off? Ah, if I could hope to gather perpetually the +fruits of the sacrifice I am making of my repose for your sake, I +confess it frankly, we would soon be in accord." + + + + +XX + +The Half-way House to Love + + +The rival you have been given appears to me to be all the more +redoubtable, as he is the sort of a man I have been advising you to +be. I know the Chevalier; nobody is more competent than he to carry a +seduction to a successful conclusion. I am willing to wager anything +that his heart has never been touched. He makes advances to the +Countess in cold blood. You are lost. A lover as passionate as you +have appeared to be, makes a thousand blunders. The most favorable +designs would perish under your management. He permits everybody to +take the advantage of him on every occasion. Indeed, such is his +misfortune that his precipitation and his timidity injure his +prospects by turns. + +A man who makes love for the pleasure he finds in it, profits by the +smallest advantage; he knows the feeble places and makes himself +master of them. Everything leads his way, everything is combined for +his purpose. Even his imprudences are often the result of wise +reflection; they help him along the road to success; they finally +acquire so superior a position that, from their beginning, so to +speak, dates the hour of his triumph. + +You must be careful, Marquis, not to go to extremes; you must not show +the Countess enough love to lead her to understand the excess of your +passion. Give her something to be anxious about; compel her to take +heed lest she lose you, by giving her opportunities to think that she +may. There is no woman on earth who will treat you more cavalierly +than one who is absolutely certain that your love will not fail her. +Like a merchant for whose goods you have manifested too great an +anxiety to acquire, she will overcharge you with as little regard to +consequences. Moderate, therefore, your imprudent vivacity; manifest +less passion and you will excite more in her heart. We do not +appreciate the worth of a prize more than when we are on the point of +losing it. Some regulation in matters of love are indispensable for +the happiness of both parties. I think I am even justified in advising +you on certain occasions to be a trifle unprincipled. On all other +occasions, though, it is better to be a dupe than a knave; but in +affairs of gallantry, it is only the fools who are the dupes, and +knaves always have the laugh on their side. Adieu. + +I have not the conscience to leave you without a word of consolation. +Do not be discouraged. However redoubtable may be the Chevalier, let +your heart rest in peace. I suspect that the cunning Countess is +making a play with him to worry you. I have no desire to flatter you, +but it gives me pleasure to say, that you are worth more than he. You +are young, you are making your debut in the world, and you are +regarded as a man who has never yet had any love affairs. The +Chevalier has lived; what woman will not appreciate these differences? + + + + +XXI + +The Comedy of Contrariness + + +Probity in love, Marquis? How can you think of such a thing? Ah, you +are like a drowned man. I shall take good care not to show your letter +to any one, it would dishonor you. You do not know how to undertake +the manoeuvres I have advised you to make, you say? Your candor, your +high sentiments made your fortune formerly! Well, love was then +treated like an affair of honor, but nowadays, the corruption of the +age has changed all that; love is now nothing more than a play of the +humor and of vanity. + +Your inexperience still leaves your virtues in an inflexible condition +that will inevitably cause your ruin, if you have not enough +intelligence to bring them into accord with the morals of the times. +One can not now wear his sentiments on his sleeve. Everything is show; +payment is made in airs, demonstrations, signs. Everybody is playing a +comedy, and men have had excellent reasons for keeping up the farce. +They have discovered the fact that nobody can gain anything by telling +the actual truth about women. There is a general agreement to +substitute for this sincerity a collection of contrary phrases. And +this custom has proved contagious in cases of gallantry. + +In spite of your high principles, you will agree with me, that unless +that custom, called "politeness," is not pushed so far as irony or +treason, it is a sociable virtue to follow, and of all the relations +among men, the true meaning of gallantry has more need of being +concealed than that of any other social affair. How many occasions do +you not find where a lover gains more by dissimulating the excess of +his passion, than another who pretends to have more than he really +has? + +I think I understand the Countess; she is more skillful than you. I am +certain she dissimulates her affection for you with greater care than +you take to multiply proofs of yours for her. I repeat; the less you +expose yourself, the better you will be treated. Let her worry in her +turn; inspire her with the fear that she will lose you, and see her +come around. It is the surest way of finding out the true position you +occupy in her heart. Adieu. + + + + +XXII + +Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to Love + + +A silence of ten days, Marquis. You begin to worry me in earnest. The +application you made of my counsel has, then, been successful? I +congratulate you. What I do not approve, however, is your +dissatisfaction with her for refusing to make the confession you +desired. The words: "I love you" seem to be something precious in your +estimation. For fifteen days you have been trying to penetrate the +sentiments of the Countess, and you have succeeded; you know her +affection for you. What more can you possibly want? What further right +over her heart would a confession give you? Truly, I consider you a +strange character. You ought to know that nothing is more calculated +to cause a reasonable woman to revolt, than the obstinacy with which +ordinary men insist upon a declaration of their love. I fail to +understand you. Ought not her refusal to be a thousand times more +precious to a delicate minded lover than a positive declaration? Will +you ever know your real interests? Instead of persecuting a woman on +such a point, expend your energies in concealing from her the extent +of her affection. Act so that she will love you before you call her +attention to the fact, before compelling her to resort to the +necessity of proclaiming it. Is it possible to experience a situation +more delicious than that of seeing a heart interested in you without +suspicion, growing toward you by degrees, finally becoming +affectionate? What a pleasure to enjoy secretly all her movements, to +direct her sentiments, augment them, hasten them, and glory in the +victory even before she has suspected that you have essayed her +defeat! That is what I call pleasure. + +Believe me, Marquis, your conduct toward the Countess must be as if +the open avowal of her love for you had escaped her. Of a truth, she +has not said in words: "I love you," but it is because she really +loves you that she has refrained from saying it. Otherwise she has +done everything to convince you of it. + +Women are under no ordinary embarrassment. They desire for the very +least, as much to confess their affection as you are anxious to +ascertain it, but what do you expect, Marquis? Women ingenious at +raising obstacles, have attached a certain shame to any avowal of +their passion, and whatever idea you men may have formed of our way of +thinking, such an avowal always humiliates us, for however small may +be our experience, we comprehend all the consequences. The words "I +love you" are not criminal, that is true, but their sequel frightens +us, hence we find means to dissimulate, and close our eyes to the +liabilities they carry with them. + +Besides this, be on your guard; your persistence in requiring an open +avowal from the Countess, is less the work of love than a persevering +vanity. I defy you to find a mistake in the true motives behind your +insistence. Nature has given woman a wonderful instinct; it enables +her to discern without mistake whatever grows out of a passion in one +who is a stranger to her. Always indulgent toward the effects produced +by a love we have inspired, we will pardon you many imprudences, many +transports; how can I enumerate them all? All the follies of which you +lovers are capable, we pardon, but you will always find us intractable +when our self-esteem meets your own. Who would believe it? You inspire +us to revolt at things that have nothing to do with your happiness. +Your vanity sticks at trifles, and prevents you from enjoying actual +advantages. Will you believe me when I say it? You will drop your idle +fancies, to delight in the certainty that you are beloved by an +adorable woman; to taste the pleasure of hiding the extent of her love +from herself, to rejoice in its security. Suppose by force of +importunities you should extract an "I love you," what would you gain +by it? Would your uncertainty reach an end? Would you know whether you +owe the avowal to love or complaisance? I think I know women, I ought +to. They can deceive you by a studied confession which the lips only +pronounce, but you will never be the involuntary witness of a passion +you force from them. The true, flattering avowals we make, are not +those we utter, but those that escape us without our knowledge. + + + + +XXIII + +Two Irreconcilable Passions in Women + + +Will you pardon me, Marquis, for laughing at your afflictions? You +take things too much to heart. Some imprudences, you say, have drawn +upon you the anger of the Countess, and your anxiety is extreme. You +kissed her hand with an ecstasy that attracted the attention of +everybody present. She publicly reprimanded you for your indiscretion, +and your marked preference for her, always offensive to other women, +has exposed you to the railleries of the Marquise, her sister-in-law. +Dear me, these are without contradiction terrible calamities! What, +are you simple enough to believe that you are lost beyond salvation +because of an outward manifestation of anger, and you do not even +suspect that inwardly you are justified? You impose upon me the burden +of convincing you of the fact, and in doing so I am forced to reveal +some strange mysteries concerning women. But, I do not intend, in +writing you, to be always apologizing for my sex. I owe you frankness, +however, and having promised it I acquit myself of the promise. + +A woman is always balancing between two irreconcilable passions which +continually agitate her mind: the desire to please, and the fear of +dishonor. You can judge of our embarrassment. On the one hand, we are +consumed with the desire to have an audience to notice the effect of +our charms. Ever engaged in schemes to bring us into notoriety; +ravished whenever we are fortunate enough to humiliate other women, we +would make the whole world witness of the preferences we encounter, +and the homage bestowed upon us. Do you know the measure of our +satisfaction in such cases? The despair of our rivals, the +indiscretions that betray the sentiments we inspire, this enchants us +proportionately to the misery they suffer. Similar imprudences +persuade us much more that we are loved, than that our charms are +incapable of giving us a reputation. + +But what bitterness poisons such sweet pleasures! Beside so many +advantages marches the malignity of rival competitors, and sometimes +your disdain. A fatality which is mournful. The world makes no +distinction between women who permit you to love them, and those whom +you compensate for so doing. Uninfluenced, and sober-minded, a +reasonable woman always prefers a good reputation to celebrity. Put +her beside her rivals who contest with her the prize for beauty, and +though she may lose that reputation of which she appears so jealous, +though she compromise herself a thousand times, nothing is equal in +her opinion to see herself preferred to others. By and by, she will +recompense you by preferences; she will at first fancy that she grants +them out of gratitude, but they will be proofs of her attachment. In +her fear of appearing ungrateful, she becomes tender. + +Can you not draw from this that it is not your indiscretions which vex +us? If they wound us, we must pay tribute to appearances, and you +would be the first to censure an excessive indulgence. + +See that you do not misunderstand us. Not to vex us on such occasions +would be really to offend. We recommend you to practice discretion and +prudence, that is the role we enact, is it not? Is it necessary for me +to tell you the part you are to play? I am often reminded that +accepting the letter of the law, is to fail to understand it. You may +be sure that you will be in accord with our intentions as soon as you +are able to interpret them properly. + + + + +XXIV + +An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable + + +The Countess no longer retreats? You think she has no other object in +view than to put your love to the proof? Whatever preference you have +manifested for her; however little precaution you have taken to +testify to your passion, she finds nothing in you but cause for +scolding. The least excuse, however, and the reproaches die upon her +lips, and her anger is so delightful that you do everything to deserve +it. Permit me to share in your joy with all my heart. But although +this behavior flatters you, if you consider that such acts are not +intended to be of long duration, how badly reasonable women, who value +their reputation, misunderstand their true interests by thus +multiplying through an affected incredulity, occasions for slandering +them. Do they not understand and feel that it is not always the moment +when they are tender which gives a blow to their reputation? The doubt +they cast upon the sincerity of the affection they have inspired, does +them more harm in the eyes of the world than even their defeat. As +long as they continue incredulous the slightest imprudence compromises +them. They dispose of their reputation at retail. + +Whenever a lover finds a woman incredulous of the truth of his +sentiments, he goes full lengths, every time he has an opportunity, to +furnish proofs of his sincerity. The most indiscreet eagerness, the +most marked preferences, the most assiduous attentions, seem to him +the best means of succeeding. Can he make use of them without calling +the attention of the whole world to the fact; without offending every +other woman and giving them occasions to be revenged by their sharpest +arrows? + +As soon as the preliminaries are settled, that is to say, as soon as +we commence to believe ourselves sincerely loved, nothing appears on +the surface, nothing happens; and if outsiders perceive our liaison, +if they put a malicious construction upon it, it will only be by the +recollection of what passed during a time when love was not in +question. + +I would, for the good of everybody concerned, that as soon as a woman +ceases to find any pleasure in the society of a man who wishes to +please her, that she could tell him so clearly and dismiss him, +without abusing his credulity, or giving him ground for vain hopes. +But I would also, that as soon as a woman is persuaded that a man +loves her, she could consent to it in good faith, reserving to +herself, however, the right to be further entreated, to such a point +as she may deem apropos, before making an avowal that she feels as +tenderly disposed toward her lover, as he is toward her. For, a woman +can not pretend to doubt without putting her lover to the necessity of +dissipating her doubts, and he can not do that successfully without +taking the whole world into his confidence by a too marked homage. + +I know very well that these ideas would not have been probable in +times when the ignorance of men rendered so many women intractable, +but, in these times when the audacity of our assailants leaves us so +few resources, in these times, I say, when, since the invention of +powder, there are few impregnable places, why undertake a prolonged +formal siege, when it is certain that after much labor and many +disasters it will be necessary to capitulate? + +Bring your amiable Countess to reason; show her the inconveniences of +a prolonged disregard of your sentiments. You will convince her of +your passion, you will compel her to believe you through regard for +her reputation, and still better, perhaps, you will furnish her with +an additional reason for giving you a confidence she doubtless now +finds it difficult to withhold from you. + + + + +XXV + +Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome + + +My last letter has apparently scandalized you, Marquis. You insist +that it is not impossible to find virtuous women in our age of the +world. Well, have I ever said anything to the contrary? Comparing +women to besieged castles, have I ever advanced the idea that there +were some that had not been taken? How could I have said such a thing? +There are some that have never been besieged, so you perceive that I +am of your opinion. I will explain, however, so that there will be no +more chicanery about the question. + +Here is my profession of faith in this matter: I firmly believe that +there are good women who have never been attacked, or who have been +wrongly attacked. + +I further firmly believe that there are good women who have been +attacked and well attacked, when they have had neither disposition, +violent passions, liberty, nor a hated husband. + +I have a mind at this point to put you in possession of a rather +lively conversation on this particular point, while I was still very +young, with a prude, whom an adventure of some brilliancy unmasked. I +was inexperienced then, and I was in the habit of judging others with +that severity which every one is disposed to manifest until some +personal fault has made us more indulgent toward our neighbors. I had +considered it proper to blame the conduct of this woman without mercy. +She heard of it. I sometimes saw her at an aunt's, and made +preparations to attack her morals. Before I had an opportunity she +took the matter into her own hands, by taking me aside one day, and +compelled me to submit to the following harangue, which I confess made +a deep impression in my memory: + +"It is not for the purpose of reproaching you for the talk you have +been making on my account, that I wish to converse with you in the +absence of witnesses," she explained, "it is to give you some advice, +the truth and solidity of which you will one day appreciate. + +"You have seen fit to censure my conduct with a severity, you have +actually treated me with a disdain, which tells me how proud you are +of the fact that you have never been taken advantage of. You believe +in your own virtue and that it will never abandon you. This is a pure +illusion of your amour propre, my dear child, and I feel impelled to +enlighten your inexperience, and to make you understand, that far from +being sure of that virtue which renders you so severe, you are not +even sure that you have any at all. This prologue astonishes you, eh? +Well, listen with attention, and you will soon be convinced of the +truth whereof I speak. + +"Up to the present time, nobody has ever spoken to you of love. Your +mirror alone has told you that you are beautiful. Your heart, I can +see by the appearance of indifference that envelops you like a +mantle, has not yet been developed. As long as you remain as you are, +as long as you can be kept in sight as you are, I will be your +guarantee. But when your heart has spoken, when your enchanting eyes +shall have received life and expression from sentiment, when they +shall speak the language of love, when an internal unrest shall +agitate your breast, when, in fine, desire, half stifled by the +scruples of a good education, shall have made you blush more than once +in secret, then your sensibility, through the combats by which you +will attempt to vanquish it, will diminish your severity toward +others, and their faults will appear more excusable. + +"The knowledge of your weakness will no longer permit you to regard +your virtue as infallible. Your astonishment will carry you still +farther. The little help it will be to you against too impetuous +inclinations, will make you doubt whether you ever had any virtue. Can +you say a man is brave before he has ever fought? It is the same with +us. The attacks made upon us are alone the parents of our virtue, as +danger gives birth to valor. As long as one has not been in the +presence of the enemy, it is impossible to say whether he is to be +feared, and what degree of resistance it will be necessary to bear +against him. + +"Hence to justify a woman in flattering herself that she is +essentially virtuous and good by force of her own strength, she must +be in a position where no danger, however great it may be, no motive +no matter how pressing, no pretext whatever, shall be powerful enough +to triumph over her. She must meet with the most favorable +opportunities, the most tender love, the certainty of secrecy, the +esteem and the most perfect confidence in him who attacks her. In a +word, all these circumstances combined should not be able to make an +impression upon her courage, so that to know whether a woman be +virtuous in the true meaning of the word, one must imagine her as +having escaped unscathed all these united dangers, for it would not be +virtue but only resistance where there should be love without the +disposition, or disposition without the occasion. Her virtue would +always be uncertain, as long as she had never been attacked by all the +weapons which might vanquish her. One might always say of her: if she +had been possessed of a different constitution, she might not have +resisted love, or, if a favorable occasion had presented itself, her +virtue would have played the fool." + +"According to this," said I, "it would be impossible to find a single +virtuous woman, for no one has ever had so many enemies to combat." + +"That may be," she replied, "but do you know the reason? Because it is +not necessary to have so many to overcome us, one alone is sufficient +to obtain the victory." + +But I stuck to my proposition: "You pretend then that our virtue does +not depend upon ourselves, since you make it the puppet of occasion, +and of other causes foreign to our own will?" + +"There is no doubt about it," she answered. "Answer me this: Can you +give yourself a lively or sedate disposition? Are you free to defend +yourself against a violent passion? Does it depend upon you to arrange +all the circumstances of your life, so that you will never find +yourself alone with a lover who adores you, who knows his advantages +and how to profit by them? Does it depend upon you to prevent his +pleadings, I assume them to be innocent at first, from making upon +your senses the impression they must necessarily make? Certainly not; +to insist upon such an anomaly would be to deny that the magnet is +master of the needle. And you pretend that your virtue is your own +work, that you can personally claim the glory of an advantage that is +liable to be taken from you at any moment? Virtue in women, like all +the other blessings we enjoy, is a gift from Heaven; it is a favor +which Heaven may refuse to grant us. Reflect then how unreasonable you +are in glorifying in your virtue: consider your injustice when you so +cruelly abuse those who have had the misfortune to be born with an +ungovernable inclination toward love, whom a sudden violent passion +has surprised, or who have found themselves in the midst of +circumstances out of which you would not have emerged with any greater +glory. + +"Shall I give you another proof of the justice of my ideas? I will +take it from your own conduct. Are you not dominated by that deep +persuasion that every woman who wishes to preserve her virtue, need +never allow herself to be caught, that she must watch over the +smallest trifles, because they lead to things of greater importance? +It is much easier for you to take from men the desire to make an +attack upon your virtue by assuming a severe exterior, than to defend +against their attacks. The proof of this is in the fact that we give +young girls in their education as little liberty as is possible in +order to restrain them. We do more: a prudent mother does not rely +upon her fear of dishonor, nor upon the bad opinion she has of men, +she keeps her daughter out of sight; she puts it out of her power to +succumb to temptation. What is the excuse for so many precautions? +Because the mother fears the frailty of her pupil, if she is exposed +for an instant to danger. + +"In spite of all these obstacles with which she is curbed, how often +does it not happen that love overcomes them all? A girl well trained, +or better, well guarded, laughs at her virtue, because she imagines it +is all her own, whereas, it is generally a slave rigorously chained +down, who thinks everybody is satisfied with him as long as he does +not run away. Let us inquire further into this: In what class do you +find abandoned females? In that where they have not sufficient wealth +or happiness constantly to provide themselves with the obstacles which +have saved you; in that, where men have attacked their virtue with +more audacity, more facility, more frequency, and more impunity, and +consequently with more advantages of every sort; in that, where the +impressions of education, of example, of pride, the desire of a +satisfactory establishment could not sustain them. Two doors below, +there is a woman whom you hate and despise. And in spite of the +outside aid which sustains that virtue, of which you are so proud, in +two days you might be more despicable than she, because you will have +had greater helps to guarantee you against misfortune. I am not +seeking to deprive you of the merit of your virtue, nor am I +endeavoring to prevent you from attaching too much importance to it; +by convincing you of its fragility, I wish to obtain from you only a +trifle of indulgence for those whom a too impetuous inclination, or +the misfortunes of circumstances have precipitated into a position so +humiliating in their own eyes; my sole object is to make you +understand that you ought to glorify yourself less in the possession +of an advantage which you do not owe to yourself, and of which you may +be deprived to-morrow." + +She was going to continue, but some one interrupted us. Soon +afterward, I learned by my own experience that I should not have had +so good an opinion of many virtues which had been formerly imposed +upon me, beginning with my own. + + + + +XXVI + +Love Demands Freedom of Action + + +I have been of the same opinion as you, Marquis, although the ideas I +communicated to you yesterday appeared to be true speculatively, that +it would be dangerous if all women were to be guided by them. It is +not by a knowledge of their frailty, that women will remain virtuous, +but by the conviction that they are free and mistresses of themselves +when it comes to yield or to resist. Is it by persuading a soldier +that he will be vanquished that he is goaded into fighting with +courage? Did you not notice that the woman who did the talking as I +have related in my last letter, had a personal interest in maintaining +her system? It is true, that when we examine her reasoning according +to the rules of philosophy, it does seem to be a trifle specious, but +it is to be feared that in permitting ourselves to reason in that +fashion on what virtue is, we may succeed in converting into a +problem, the rules we should receive and observe as a law, which it is +a crime to construe. Moreover, to persuade women that it is not to +themselves they are indebted for the virtue they possess, might it mot +deprive them of the most powerful motive to induce them to preserve +it? I mean by that, the persuasion that it is their own work they +defend. The consequences of such morality would be discouraging, and +tend to diminish, in the eyes of a guilty woman, the importance of her +errors. But let us turn to matters of more interest to you. + +At last, after so many uncertainties, after so many revolutions in +your imagination, you are sure you are loved? You have finally +succeeded in exciting the Countess to divulge her secret during a +moment of tenderness. The words you burned to hear have been +pronounced. More, she has allowed to escape her, a thousand +involuntary proofs of the passion you have inspired. Far from +diminishing your love, the certainty that you are beloved in return +has increased it; in a word, you are the happiest of men. If you knew +with how much pleasure I share your happiness you would be still +happier. The first sacrifice she desired to make was to refuse to +receive the Chevalier: you were opposed to her making it, and you were +quite right. It would have compromised the Countess for nothing, which +calls to my mind the fact, that women generally lose more by +imprudence than by actual faults. The confidence you so nobly +manifested in her, ought to have greatly impressed her. + +Everything is now as it should be. However, shall I tell you +something? The way this matter has turned out alarms me. We agreed, if +you remember, that we were to treat the subject of love without +gloves. You were not to have at the most but a light and fleeting +taste of it, and not a regulated passion. Now I perceive that things +become more serious every day. You are beginning to treat love with a +dignity which worries me. The knowledge of true merits, solid +qualities, and good character is creeping into the motives of your +liaison, and combining with the personal charms which render you so +blindly amorous. I do not like to have so much esteem mixed with an +affair of pure gallantry. It leaves no freedom of action, it is work +instead of amusement. I was afraid in the beginning that your +relations would assume a grave and measured turn. But perhaps you will +only too soon have new pretensions, and the Countess by new disputes +will doubtless re-animate your liaison. Too constant a peace is +productive of a deadly ennui. Uniformity kills love, for as soon as +the spirit of method mingles in an affair of the heart, the passion +disappears, languor supervenes, weariness begins to wear, and disgust +ends the chapter. + + + + +XXVII + +The Heart Needs Constant Employment + + +Madame de Sevigne does not agree with me upon the causes of love as I +give them. She pretends that many women know it only from its refined +side, and that the senses never count for anything in their heart +affairs. According to her, although what she calls my "system" should +be well founded, it would always be unbecoming in the mouth of a +woman, and might become a precedent in morals. + +These are assuredly very serious exceptions, Marquis, but are they +well grounded? I do not think so. I see with pain that Madame de +Sevigne has not read my letters in the spirit I wrote them. What, I +the founder of systems? Truly, she does me too much honor, I have +never been serious enough to devise any system. Besides, according to +my notion, a system is nothing but a philosophic dream, and therefore +does she consider all I have told you as a play of the imagination? In +that case, we are very far out of our reckoning. I do not imagine, I +depict real objects. I would have one truth acknowledged, and to +accomplish that, my purpose is not to surprise the mind; I consult the +sentiments. Perhaps she has been struck by the singularity of some of +my propositions, which appeared to me so evident that I did not think +it worth while to maintain them; but is it necessary to make use of a +mariner's compass to develop the greater or less amount of truth in a +maxim of gallantry? + +Moreover, I have such a horror of formal discussions, that I would +prefer to agree to anything rather than engage in them. Madame de +Sevigne, you say, is acquainted with a number of female +metaphysicians--there! there! I will grant her these exceptions, +provided she leaves me the general thesis. I will even admit, if you +so desire, that there are certain souls usually styled "privileged," +for I have never heard anybody deny the virtues of temperament. So, I +have nothing to say about women of that species. I do not criticise +them, nor have I any reproaches to make them; neither do I believe it +my duty to praise them, it is sufficient to congratulate them. +However, if you investigate them you will discover the truth of what I +have been saying since the commencement of our correspondence: the +heart must be occupied with some object. If nature does not incline +them in that direction, no one can lead them in the direction of +gallantry, their affection merely changes its object. Such a one +to-day appears to be insensible to the emotion of love, only because +she has disposed of all that portion of the sentiment she had to give. +The Count de Lude, it is said, was not always indifferent to Madame de +Sevigne. Her extreme tenderness for Madame Grignan (her daughter), +however, occupies her entire time at present. According to her, I am +very much at fault concerning women? In all charity I should have +disguised the defects which I have discovered in my sex, or, if you +prefer to have it that way, which my sex have discovered in me. + +But, do you really believe, Marquis, that if everything I have said on +this subject be made public, the women would be offended? Know them +better, Marquis; all of them would find there what is their due. +Indeed, to tell them that it is purely a mechanical instinct which +inclines them to flirt, would not that put them at their ease? Does it +not seem to be restoring to favor that fatality, those expressions of +sympathy, which they are so delighted to give as excuses for their +mistakes, and in which I have so little faith? Granting that love is +the result of reflection, do you not see what a blow you are giving +their vanity? You place upon their shoulders the responsibility far +their good or bad choice. + +One more thrust, Marquis: I am not mistaken when I say that all women +would be satisfied with my letters. The female metaphysicians, that +is, those women whom Heaven has favored with a fortunate constitution, +would take pleasure in recognizing in them their superiority over +other women; they would not fail to congratulate themselves upon the +delicacy of their own sentiments, and to consider them as works of +their own creation. Those whom nature built of less refined material, +would without doubt owe me some gratitude for revealing a secret which +was weighing upon them. They have made it a duty to disguise their +inclinations, and they are as anxious not to fail in this duty as they +are careful not to lose anything on the pleasure side of the question. +Their interest, therefore, is, to have their secret guessed without +being compromised. Whoever shall develop their hearts, will not fail +to render them an essential service. I am even fully convinced that +those women, who at heart, profess sentiments more comformable to +mine, would be the first to consider it an honor to dispute them. +Hence, I would be paying my court to women in two fashions, which +would be equally agreeable: In adopting the maxims which flatter their +inclinations, and in furnishing them with an occasion to appear +refined. + +After all, Marquis, do you think it would betray a deep knowledge of +women, to believe that they could be offended with the malicious talk +I have been giving you about them? Somebody said a long time ago, that +women would rather have a little evil said of them than not be talked +about at all You see therefore, that even supposing that I have +written you in the intention with which I am charged, they would be +very far from being able to reproach me in the slightest degree. + +Finally, Madame de Sevigne pretends that my "system" might become a +precedent. Truly, Marquis, I do not understand how, with the justice +for which she is noted, she was able to surrender to such an idea. In +stripping love, as I have, of everything liable to seduce you, in +making it out to be the effect of temperament, caprice, and vanity; +in a word, in undeceiving you concerning the metaphysics that lend it +grandeur and nobility, is it not evident that I have rendered it less +dangerous? Would it not be more dangerous, if, as pretends Madame de +Sevigne, it were to be transformed into a virtue? I would willingly +compare my sentiments with those of the celebrated legislator of +antiquity, who believed the best means of weakening the power of women +over his fellow citizens was to expose their nakedness. But I wish to +make one more effort in your favor. Since I am regarded as a woman +with a system, it will be better for me to submit to whatever such a +fine title exacts. Let us reason, therefore, for a moment upon +gallantry according to the method which appertains only to serious +matters. + +Is love not a passion? Do not very strict minded people pretend that +the passions and vices mean the same things? Is vice ever more +seductive than when it wears the cloak of virtue? Wherefore in order +to corrupt virtuous souls it is sufficient for it to appear in a +potential form. This is the form in which the Platonicians deified it. +In all ages, in order to justify the passions, it was necessary to +apotheosize them. What am I saying? Am I so bold as to play the +iconoclast with an accredited superstition? What temerity! Do I not +deserve to be persecuted by all women for attacking their favorite +cult? + +I am sorry for them; it was so lovely, when they felt the movements of +love, to be exempt from blushing, to be able even to congratulate +themselves, and lay the blame upon the operations of a god. But what +had poor humanity done to them? Why misunderstand it and seek for the +cause of its weakness in the Heavens? Let us remain on earth, we shall +find it there, and it is its proper home. + +In truth, I have never in my letters openly declaimed against love; I +have never advised you not to take the blame of it. I was too well +persuaded of the uselessness of such advice; but I told you what love +is, and I therefore diminished the illusion it would not have failed +to create in your mind; I weakened its power over you and experience +will justify me. + +I am perfectly well aware that a very different use is made of it in +the education of females. And what sort of profit is there in the +methods employed? The very first step is to deceive them. Their +teachers strive to inspire them with as much fear of love as of evil +spirits. Men are depicted as monsters of infidelity and perfidy. Now +suppose a gentleman appears who expresses delicate sentiments, whose +bearing is modest and respectful? The young woman with whom he +converses will believe she has been imposed upon; and as soon as she +discovers how much exaggeration there has been, her advisers will lose +all credit so far as she is concerned. Interrogate such a young woman, +and if she is sincere, you will find that the sentiments the alleged +monster has excited in her heart are far from being the sentiments of +horror. + +They are deceived in another manner also, and the misery of it is, it +is almost impossible to avoid it. Infinite care is taken to keep from +them the knowledge, to prevent them from having even an idea that they +are liable to be attacked by the senses, and that such attacks are the +most dangerous of all for them. They are drilled in the idea that they +are immaculate spirits, and what happens then? Inasmuch as they have +never been forewarned of the species of attacks they must encounter, +they are left without defense. They have never mistrusted that their +most redoubtable enemy is the one that has never been mentioned: how +then can they be on their guard against him? It is not men they should +be taught to fear, but themselves? What could a lover do, if the woman +he attacks were not seduced by her own desires? + +So, Marquis, when I say to women that the principal cause of their +weaknesses is physical, I am far from advising them to follow their +inclinations; on the contrary, it is for the purpose of putting them +on their guard in that respect. It is saying to the Governor of the +citadel, that he will not be attacked at the spot which up to then has +been the best fortified; that the most redoubtable assault will not be +made by the besiegers, but that he will be betrayed by his own. + +In a word, in reducing to their just value, the sentiments to which +women attach such high and noble ideas; in enlightening them upon the +real object of a lover who pretends to great delicacy and refinement, +do you not see that I am interesting their vanity to draw less glory +out of the fact of being loved, and their hearts to take less pleasure +in loving? Depend upon it, that if it were possible to enlist their +vanity in opposition to their inclination to gallantry, their virtue +would most assuredly suffer very little. + +I have had lovers, but none of them deceived me by any illusions. I +could penetrate their motives astonishingly well. I was always +persuaded that if whatever was of value from the standpoint of +intellect and character, was considered as anything among the reasons +that led them to love me, it was only because those qualities +stimulated their vanity. They were amorous of me, because I had a +beautiful figure, and they possessed the desire. So it came about that +they never obtained more than the second place in my heart. I have +always conserved for friendship the deference, the constancy, and the +respect even, which a sentiment so noble, so worthy deserves in an +elevated soul. It has never been possible for me to overcome my +distrust for hearts in which love was the principal actor. This +weakness degraded them in my eyes; I considered them incompetent to +raise their mind up to sentiments of true esteem for a woman for whom +they have felt a desire. + +You see, therefore, Marquis, that the precedent I draw from my +principles is far from being dangerous. All that enlightened minds can +find with which to reproach me, will be, perhaps, because I have +taken the trouble to demonstrate a truth which they do not consider +problematic. But does not your inexperience and your curiosity justify +whatever I have written so far, and whatever I may yet write you on +this subject? + + + + +XXVIII + +Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance + + +You are not mistaken, Marquis, the taste and talent of the Countess +for the clavecin (piano) will tend to increase your love and +happiness. I have always said that women do not fully realize the +advantages they might draw from their talents; indeed, there is not a +moment when they are not of supreme utility; most women always +calculating on the presence of a beloved object as the only thing to +be feared. In such case they have two enemies to combat; their love +and their lover. But when the lover departs, love remains; and +although the progress it makes in solitude is not so rapid, it is no +less dangerous. It is then that the execution of a sonata, the +sketching of a flower, the reading of a good book, will distract the +attention from a too seductive remembrance, and fix the mind on +something useful. All occupations which employ the mind are so many +thefts from love. + +Suppose his inclination brings a lover to our knees, what can he +accomplish with a woman who is only tender and pretty? With what can +he employ his time if he does not find in her society something +agreeable, some variety? Love is an active sentiment, it is a +consuming fire always demanding additional fuel, and if it can find +only sensible objects upon which to feed, it will keep to that diet. I +mean to say, that when the mind is not occupied the senses find +something to do. + +There are too many gesticulations while talking, sometimes I think we +shall be compelled to use sign language with a person we know to be +unable to understand a more refined language. It is not in resisting +advances, nor in taking offense at too bold a caress that a woman is +enabled to maintain her virtue. When she is attacked in that fashion, +even while defending herself, her senses are excited and the very +agitation which impels her to resist, hastens her defeat. But it is by +distracting the attention of the man to other objects, that the woman +is relieved of the necessity of resisting his advances, or taking +offense at his liberties to which she herself has opened the way, for +there is one thing certain, which is, that a man will never disappoint +a woman who is anxious for him. + +You will not find a single woman, unless you can suppose one +absolutely ignorant, who is not able to gauge exactly the degree of +familiarity she ought to permit. Those who complain that their lovers +do not come up to the mark do not affect me in the least. Inquire into +the reason, and you will perceive that their stupidities, their +imprudences are the cause. It was their desire to be found wanting. + +Defect in culture may expose us to the same inconveniences, for with a +woman without mind, and without talents what else is there to do but +undertake her conquest? When in her company, the only way to kill +time is to annoy her. There is nothing to talk about but her beauty, +and of the impression she has made upon the senses, and sensual +language is the only one that can be employed for that purpose. She +herself is not convinced that you love her, and she does not respond, +she does not recompense you but by the assistance of the senses, and +exhibits an agitation equal to yours, or else, her decency gone, she +has nothing but bad humor with which to oppose you. This is the last +ditch of a woman without mind, and what a culmination! On the +contrary, what are not the advantages of an intelligent, resourceful +woman? A lively repartee, piquant raillery, a quarrel seasoned with a +trifle of malice, a happy citation, a graceful recitation, are not +these so many distractions for her, and the time thus employed, is it +not so much gained for virtue? + +The great misfortune with women is, without doubt, the inability to +find occupations worthy of their attention, and this is the reason why +love with them is a more violent passion than with men, but they have +a characteristic which, properly directed may serve as an antidote. +All women, to say the least, are as vain as they are sensitive, +whence, the cure for sensitiveness is vanity. While a woman is +occupied in pleasing in other ways than by the beauty of her figure, +she loses sight of the sentiment which inspires her to act. In truth, +this sentiment will not cease to be the "determining motive" (you must +permit me to use some technical term of art), but it will not be the +actual object presented to her attention, and that is something +gained. Wholly devoted to the care of becoming perfect in the species +of glory to which she aspires, this same desire, of which love will be +the source, will turn against love, by dividing the attention of the +mind and the affections of the heart; in a word it will create a +diversion. + +But perhaps you will tell me that there are women of spirit and +talents beyond the reach of attack. Whence you infer that men who do +not dislike freedom will avoid them, but that fools and men of +intelligence cultivate them. That is true, but the fools take to them +because they do not perceive the difficulty in their way, and men of +intelligence do not avoid them, because they aspire to surmount it. + +Now, ought not you, who are a military man, to appreciate everything I +say to you about talent? I will suppose a campaign upon which you have +entered; you have been given charge of conducting the siege of a city. +Would you be satisfied if the governor, persuaded that the city is not +impregnable, should open to you the gates without having given you the +least occasion to distinguish yourself? I venture to say not; he +should resist, and the more he seeks to cover himself with glory, the +more glory he gives you. Well, Marquis, in love as in war, the +pleasure of obtaining a victory is measured according to the obstacles +in the way of it. Shall I say it? I am tempted to push the parallel +farther. See what it is to take a first step. The true glory of a +woman consists less, perhaps, in yielding, than in putting in a good +defense, so that she will merit the honors of war. + +I shall go still farther. Let a woman become feeble enough to be at +the point of yielding, what is left her to retain a satisfactory +lover, if her intelligence and talents do not come to her aid? I am +well aware that they do not give themselves these advantages, but if +we investigate the matter, we shall find that there are very few women +who may not acquire a few accomplishments if they really set about it; +the difference would only be the more, at least. But women are +generally born too indolent to be able to make such an effort. They +have discovered that there is nothing so convenient as being pretty. +This manner of pleasing does not require any labor; they would be glad +not to have any other. Blind that they are, they do not see that +beauty and talents equally attract the attention of men, but, beauty +merely exposes her who possesses it, whereas talents furnish her with +the means of defending it. + +In a word, to appreciate it at its full value, beauty stores up +regrets and a mortal weariness for the day when it shall cease to +exist. Would you know the reason? It is because it drowns out all +other resources. As long as beauty lasts, a woman is regarded as +something, she is celebrated, a crowd sighs at her feet. She flatters +herself that this will go on forever. What a desolate solitude when +age comes to ravish her of the only merit she possesses? I would like, +therefore (my expression is not elevated, but it interprets my +thought), I would like that in a woman, beauty could be a sign of +other advantages. + +Let us agree, Marquis, that in love, the mind is made more use of than +the heart. A liaison of the heart is a drama in which the acts are the +shortest and the between acts the longest; with what then, would you +fill the interludes if not with accomplishments? Possession puts every +woman on the same level, and exposes all of them equally to +infidelity. The elegant and the beautiful, when they are nothing else, +have not, in that respect, any advantage over her who is plain; the +mind, in that case making all the difference. That alone can bestow +upon the same person the variety necessary to prevent satiety. +Moreover, it is only accomplishments that can fill the vacuum of a +passion that has been satisfied, and we can always have them in any +situation we may imagine, either to postpone defeat and render it more +flattering, or to assure us of our conquests. Lovers themselves profit +by them. How many things they cherish although they set their faces +against them? Wherefore, let the Countess, while cultivating her +decided talent for the clavecin, understand her interests and yours. + +I have read over my letter, my dear Marquis, and I tremble lest you +find it a trifle serious. You see what happens when one is in bad +company. I supped last night with M. de la Rochefoucauld, and I never +see him that he does not spoil me in this fashion, at least for three +or four days. + + + + +XXIX + +The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal + + +I think as you do, Marquis, the Countess punishes you too severely for +having surprised an avowal of her love. Is it your fault if her secret +escaped? She has gone too far to retreat. A woman can experience a +return to reason, but to go so far as to refuse to see you for three +days; give out that she has gone into the country for a month; return +your tender letters without opening them, is, in my opinion, a +veritable caprice of virtue. After all, however, do not despair +whatever may happen. If she were really indifferent she would be less +severe. + +Do not make any mistake about this: There are occasions when a woman +is less out of humor with you than with herself. She feels with +vexation that her weakness is ready to betray her at any moment. She +punishes you for it, and she punishes herself by being unkind to you. +But you may be sure that one day of such caprice advances the progress +of a lover more than a year of care and assiduity. A woman soon begins +to regret her unkindness; she deems herself unjust; she desires to +repair her fault, and she becomes benevolent. + +What surprises me the most is the marked passage in your letter which +states that since the Countess has appeared to love you, her +character has totally changed. I have no particular information on +that point. All I know is, that she made her debut in society as a +lady of elegance, and her debut was all the more marked because, +during the life of her husband, her conduct was entirely the contrary. +Do you not remember when you first made her acquaintance, that she was +lively even to giddiness, heedless, bold, even coquettish, and +appeared to be incapable of a reasonable attachment? However, to-day, +you tell me, she has become a serious melancholic; pre-occupied, +timid, affected; sentiment has taken the place of mincing airs; at +least she appears to so fit in with the character she assumes to-day, +that you imagine it to be her true one, and her former one, borrowed. +All my philosophy would be at fault in such a case, if I did not +recognize in this metamorphosis the effects of love. I am very much +mistaken if the storm raging around you to-day, does not end in the +most complete victory, and one all the more assured because she has +done everything in her power to prevent it. But if you steadily pursue +your object, carrying your pursuit even as far as importunity, follow +her wherever she goes and where you can see her; if you take it upon +yourself not to allude to your passion, and treat her with all the +mannerism of an attentive follower, respectful, but impressed, what +will happen? She will be unable to refuse you the courtesies due any +indifferent acquaintance. Women possess an inexhaustible fund of +kindness for those who love them. You know this well, you men, and it +is what always reassures you when you are treated unkindly. You know +that your presence, your attentions, the sorrow that affects you have +their effect, and end by disarming our pride. + +You are persuaded that those whom our virtue keeps at a distance +through pride, are precisely those whom it fears the most, and +unfortunately, your guess is only too just, it keeps them off, indeed, +because it is not sure of its ability to resist them. It does more +sometimes, it goes to the length of braving an enemy whose attack it +dares not anticipate. In a word, the courage of a reasonable woman is +nearly always equal to a first effort, but rarely is that effort +lasting. The very excess of its violence is the cause of its +weakening. The soul has only one degree of force, and exhausted by the +constraint that effort cost it, it abandons itself to lassitude. By +and by, the knowledge of its weakness throws it into discouragement. A +woman of that disposition bears the first shock of a redoubtable enemy +with courage, but, the danger better understood, she fears a second +attack. A woman, persuaded that she has done everything possible to +defend herself against an inclination which is urging her on, +satisfied with the combats in which she has been engaged, finally +reaches the opinion that her resistance can not prevail against the +power of love. If she still resist, it is not by her own strength; she +derives no help except from the idea of the intrepidity she at first +displayed to him who attacks, or from the timidity she inspired in +him in the beginning of her resistance. Thus it is, that however +reasonable she may be, she nearly always starts out with a fine +defense, she only needs pride to resolve upon that; but unfortunately, +you divine the means of overcoming her, you persevere in your attacks, +she is not indefatigable, and you have so little delicacy that, +provided you obtain her heart, it is of no consequence to you whether +you have obtained it through your importunities or with her consent. + +Besides that, Marquis, the excess of precautions a woman takes against +you, is strong evidence of how much you are feared. If you were an +object of indifference, would a woman take the trouble to avoid you? I +declare to you that she would not honor you by being afraid of you. +But I know how unreasonable lovers are. Always ingenious in tormenting +themselves, the habit of never having but one object in view is so +powerful, that they prefer being pestered with one that is +disagreeable than with none at all. + +However, I feel sorry for you. Smitten as you are, your situation can +not fail to be a sad one. The poor Marquis, how badly he is treated! + + + + +XXX + +When Resistance Is Only a Pretense + + +I was delighted to learn before my departure for the country, that +your mind was more at rest. I feel free to say, that if the Countess +had persevered in treating you with the same severity, I should have +suspected, not that she was insensible to your love, but that you had +a fortunate rival. The resistance manifested by her would have been +beyond her strength in a single combat. For you should be well +advised, Marquis, that a woman is never more intractable than when she +assumes a haughtiness toward all other men, for the sake of her +favorite lover. + +I see in everything you have told me, proofs that you are loved, and +that you are the only one. I will be able to give you constant news on +that score, for I am going to investigate the Countess for myself. +This will surprise you, no doubt. Your astonishment will cease, +however, when you call to mind that Madame de la Sabliere's house, +where I am going to spend a week, adjoins the grounds of your amiable +widow. You told me that she was at home, and, add to the neighborhood, +the unmeasured longing I have to make her acquaintance, you will not +be surprised at the promise I have just made you. + +I have not the time to finish this letter, nor the opportunity to +send it. I must depart immediately, and my traveling companion is +teasing me in a strange fashion, pretending that I am writing a love +letter. I am letting her think what she pleases, and carry the letter +with me to the country. Adieu. What! Madame de Grignan's illness will +not permit you to visit us in our solitude? + +Du Chateau de---. + +I am writing you from the country house of the Countess, my dear +Marquis, this is the third day I have been with her, which will enable +you to understand that I am not in bad favor with the mistress of the +house. She is an adorable woman, I am delighted with her. I sometimes +doubt whether you deserve a heart like hers. Here I am her confidante. +She has told me all she thinks about you, and I do not despair of +discovering, before I return to the city, the reasons for the change +in her character which you have remarked. I dare not write you more +now, I may be interrupted, and I do not wish any one to know that I am +writing you from this place. Adieu. + + + + +XXXI + +The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la Sabliere + + +How many things I have to tell you, Marquis! I was preparing to keep +my word with you, and had arranged to use strategy upon the Countess +to worm her secret from her, when chance came to my aid. + +You are not ignorant of her confidence in Monsieur de la Sabliere. She +was with him just now in an arbor of the garden, and I was passing +through a bushy path intending to join them, when the mention of your +name arrested my steps. I was not noticed, and heard all the +conversation, which I hasten to communicate to you word for word. + +"I have not been able to conceal from your penetration, my inclination +for M. de Sevigne," said the Countess, "and you can not reconcile the +serious nature of so decided a passion with the frivolity attributed +to me in society. You will be still more astonished when I tell you +that my exterior character is not my true one, that the seriousness +you notice in me now, is a return to my former disposition; I was +never giddy except through design. Perhaps you may have imagined that +women can only conceal their faults, but they sometimes go much +farther, sir, and I am an instance. They even disguise their virtues, +and since the word has escaped me, I am tempted, at the risk of +wearying you, to explain by what strange gradation I reached that +point. + +"During my married life I lived retired from the world. You knew the +Count and his taste for solitude. When I became a widow, there was the +question of returning to society, and my embarrassment as to how I was +to present myself was not small. I interrogated my own heart; in vain +I sought to hide it from my own knowledge, I had a strong taste for +the pleasures of society; but at the same time I was determined to add +to it purity of morals. But how to reconcile all this? It seemed to me +a difficult task to establish a system of conduct which, without +compromising me, would not at the same time deprive me of the +pleasures of life. + +"This is the way I reasoned: Destined to live among men, formed to +please them, and to share in their happiness, we are obliged to suffer +from their caprices, and above all fear their malignity. It seems that +they have no other object in our education than that of fitting us for +love, indeed, it is the only passion permitted us, and by a strange +and cruel contrariety, they have left us only one glory to obtain, +which is that of gaining a victory over the very inclination imposed +upon us. I therefore endeavored to ascertain the best means of +reconciling in use and custom, two such glaring extremes, and I found +predicaments on all sides. + +"We are, I said to myself, simple enough when we enter society, to +imagine that the greatest happiness of a woman should be to love and +be loved. We then are under the impression that love is based on +esteem, upheld by the knowledge of amiable qualities, purified by +delicacy of sentiment, divested of all the insipidities which +disfigure it, in a word, fostered by confidence and the effusions of +the heart. But unfortunately, a sentiment so flattering for a woman +without experience, is everything less than that in practice. She is +always disabused when too late. + +"I was so good in the beginning as to be scandalized at two +imperfections I perceived in men, their inconstancy and their +untruthfulness. The reflections I made on the first of these defects, +led me to the opinion that they were more unfortunate than guilty. +From the manner in which the human heart is constituted, is it +possible for it to be occupied with only one object? No, but does the +treachery of men deserve the same indulgence? Most men attack a +woman's virtue in cold blood, in the design to use her for their +amusement, to sacrifice her to their vanity, to fill a void in an idle +life, or to acquire a sort of reputation based upon the loss of ours. +There is a large number of men in this class. How to distinguish true +lovers? They all look alike on the surface, and the man who pretends +to be amorous, is often more seductive than one who really is. + +"We are, moreover, dupes enough to make love a capital affair. You +men, on the contrary, consider it merely a play; we rarely surrender +to it without an inclination for the person of the lover; you are +coarse enough to yield to it without taste. Constancy with us is a +duty; you give way to the slightest distaste without scruple. You are +scarcely decent in leaving a mistress, the possession of whom, six +months before, was your glory and happiness. She may consider herself +well off if she is not punished by the most cruel indiscretions. + +"Hence I regarded things from their tragical side, and said to myself: +'If love draws with it so many misfortunes, a woman who cherishes her +peace of mind and reputation, should never love.' However, everything +tells me that we have a heart, that this heart is made for love, and +that love is involuntary. Why, then, venture to destroy an inclination +that is part of our being? Would it not be wiser to rectify it? Let us +see how it will be possible to succeed in such an enterprise. + +"What is a dangerous love? I have observed that kind of love. It is a +love which occupies the whole soul to the exclusion of every other +sentiment, and which impels us to sacrifice everything to the object +loved. + +"What characters are susceptible of such a sentiment? They are the +most solid, those who show little on the outside, those who unite +reason with an elevated nobility of character in their fashion of +thinking. + +"Finally, who are the men the most reasonable for women of that kind? +It is those who possess just sufficient brilliant qualities to fix a +value on their essential merit. It must be confessed, though, that +such men are not good companions for women who think. It is true, +they are rare at present, and there has never been a period so +favorable as this to guarantee us against great passions, but +misfortune will have it that we meet one of them in the crowd. + +"The moralists pretend that every woman possesses a fund of +sensibility destined to be applied to some object or another. A +sensible woman is not affected by the thousand trifling advantages so +agreeable to men in ordinary women. When she meets an object worthy of +her attention, it is quite natural that she should estimate the value +of it; her affection is measured according to her lights, she can not +go half way. It is these characters that should not be imitated, and +all acquaintance with the men of whom I have just been speaking, +should be avoided if a woman values her peace of mind. Let us create a +character which can procure for us two advantages at one and the same +time: One to guard us from immoderate impressions; the other to ward +off men who cause them. Let us give them an outside which will at +least prevent them from displaying qualities they do not possess. Let +us force them to please us by their frivolity, by their absurdities. +However much they may practice affectation, their visible faults would +furnish us with weapons against them. What happy state can a woman +occupy to procure such safeguards? It is undoubtedly that of a +professional society woman. + +"You are doubtless astonished at the strange conclusion to which my +serious reasoning has led me. You will be still more astonished when +you shall have heard the logic I employ to prove that I am right: +listen to the end. I know the justice of your mind, and I am not +lacking in it, however frivolous I may appear to be, and you will +finish by being of my opinion. + +"Do you believe that the outward appearance of virtue guarantees the +heart against the assaults of love? A poor resource. When a woman +descends to a weakness, is not her humiliation proportionately as +great as the esteem she hoped to secure? The brighter her virtue, the +easier mark for malice. + +"What is the world's idea of a virtuous woman? Are not men so unjust +as to believe that the wisest woman is she who best conceals her +weakness; or who, by a forced retreat puts herself beyond the +possibility of having any? Rather than accord us a single perfection, +they carry wickedness to the point of attributing to us a perpetual +state of violence, every time we undertake to resist their advances. +One of our friends said: 'There is not an honest woman who is not +tired of being so.' And what recompense do they offer us for the cruel +torments to which they have condemned us? Do they raise up an altar to +our heroism? No! The most honest woman, they say, is she who is not +talked about, that is to say, a perfect indifference on the part of a +woman, a general oblivion is the price of our virtue. Must women not +have much of it to preserve it at such a price? Who would not be +tempted to abandon it? But there are grave matters which can not be +overlooked. + +"Dishonor closely follows upon weakness. Old age is dreadful in +itself, what must it not be when it is passed in remorse? I feel the +necessity of avoiding such a misfortune. I calculated at first that I +could not succeed in, doing so, without condemning myself to a life of +austerity, and I had not the courage to undertake it. But it gradually +dawned upon me that the condition of a society woman was alone +competent to reconcile virtue with pleasure. From the smile on your +face, I suspect such an idea appears to be a paradox to you. But it is +more reasonable than you imagine. + +"Tell me this: Is a society woman obliged to have an attachment? Is +she not exempt from tenderness? It is sufficient for her to be amiable +and courteous, everything on the surface. As soon as she becomes +expert in the role she has undertaken, then, the only mistrust the +world has of her is that she has no heart. A fine figure, haughty +airs, caprices, fashionable jargon, fantasies, and fads, that is all +that is required of her. She can be essentially virtuous with +impunity. Does any one presume to make advances? If he meet with +resistance he quickly gives over worrying her, he thinks her heart is +already captured, and he patiently awaits his turn. His perseverance +would be out of place, for she would notify a man who failed to pay +her deference, that it was owing to arrangements made before he +offered himself. In this way a woman is protected by the bad opinion +had of her. + +"I read in your eyes that you are about to say to me: The state of a +professional society woman may injure my reputation, and plunge me +into difficulties I seek to avoid. Is not that your thought? But do +you not know, Monsieur, that the most austere conduct does not guard a +woman from the shafts of malice? The opinion men give of women's +reputation, and the good and wrong ideas they acquire of us are always +equally false. It is prejudice, it is a species of fatality which +governs their judgment, so that our glory depends less upon a real +virtue than upon auspicious circumstances. The hope of filling an +honorable place in their imagination, ought not to be the sole +incentive to the practice of virtue, it should be the desire to have a +good opinion of ourselves, and to be able to say, whatever may be the +opinion of the public: I have nothing with which to reproach myself. +But, what matters it to what we owe our virtue, provided we have it? + +"I was therefore convinced that I could not do better, when I +reappeared in the world, than to don the mask I deemed the most +favorable to my peace of mind and to my glory. I became closely +attached to the friend who aided me with her counsel. She is the +Marquise de ----, a relative. Our sentiments were in perfect accord. +We frequented the same society. Charity for our neighbors was truly +not our favorite virtue. We made our appearance in a social circle as +into a ball room, where we were the only masks. We indulged in all +sorts of follies, we goaded the absurd into showing themselves in +their true character. After having amused ourselves in this comedy, +we had not yet reached the limit of our pleasure, it was renewed in +private interviews. How absolutely idiotic the women appeared to us, +and the men, how vacuous, fatuous, and impertinent! If we found any +who could inspire fear in a woman's heart, that is, esteem, we broke +their heart by our airs, by affecting utter indifference for them, and +by the allurements we heaped upon those who deserved them the least. +By force of our experience, we came near believing, that in order to +be virtuous, it was necessary to frequent bad company. + +"This course of conduct guaranteed us for a long time against the +snares of love, and saved us from the dreadful weariness a sad and +more mournful virtue would have spread over our lives. Frivolous, +imperious, bold, even coquettish if you will, in the presence of men, +but solid, reasonable, and virtuous in our own eyes, we were happy in +this character. We never met a man we were afraid of. Those who might +have been redoubtable, were obliged to make themselves ridiculous +before being permitted to enjoy our society. + +"But what finally led me to doubt the truth of my principles, is they +did not always guard me from the dangers I wished to avoid. I have +learned through my own experience, that love is a traitor with whom it +will not do to trifle. I do not know by what fatality, the Marquis de +Sevigne was able to render my projects futile. In spite of all my +precautions he has found the way to my heart. However much I resisted +him I was impelled to love him, and my reason is of no more use to me +except to justify in my own eyes the inclination I feel for him. I +would be happy if he never gave me an occasion to change my +sentiments. I have been unable to hide from him my true thoughts, I +was afraid at first that he might deem me actually as ridiculous as I +seemed to be. And when my sincerity shall render me less amiable in +his eyes (for I know that frivolity captures men more than real +merit), I wish to show myself to him in my true colors. I should blush +to owe nothing to his heart but a perpetual lie of my whole being." + +"I am still less surprised, Madame," said Monsieur de la Sabliere, "at +the novelty of your project, than at the skill with which you have +succeeded in rendering such a singular idea plausible. Permit me to +say, that it is not possible to go astray with more spirit. Have you +experimented with everybody according to your system? Men go a long +way around to avoid the beaten track, but they all fall over the same +obstacles. To make use of the privilege you granted me to tell you +plainly my thought, believe me, Countess, that the only way for you to +preserve your peace of mind is to resume openly your position as a +reasonable woman. There is nothing to be gained by compounding with +virtue." + +When I heard the conversation taking that complexion, I knew it would +soon finish, and I therefore promptly withdrew, and could not think of +anything but satisfying your curiosity. I am tired of writing. In two +days I shall return to Paris. + + + + +XXXII + +The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart + + +Well, Marquis, here I am back again, but the news I bring you may not +be altogether to your liking. You have never had so fine an occasion +to charge women with caprice. I wrote you the last time to tell you +that you were loved, to-day I write just the contrary. + +A strange resolution has been taken against you; tremble, 'tis a thing +settled; the Countess purposes loving you at her ease, and without its +costing her any disturbance of her peace of mind. She has seen the +consequences of a passion similar to yours, and she can not face it +without dismay. She intends, therefore, to arrest its progress. Do not +let the proofs she has given you reassure you. You men imagine that as +soon as a woman has confessed her love she can never more break her +chains; undeceive yourself. The Countess is much more reasonable on +your account than I thought, and I do not hide from you the fact that +a portion of her firmness is due to my advice. You need not rely any +more on my letters, and you do not require any help from them to +understand women. + +I sometimes regret that I have furnished you weapons against my sex, +without them would you ever have been able to touch the heart of the +Countess? I must avow that I have judged women with too much rigor, +and you now see me ready to make them a reparation. I know it now, +there are more stable and essentially virtuous women than I had +thought. + +What a stock of reason! What a combination of all the estimable +qualities in our friend! No, Marquis, I could no longer withhold from +her the sentiment of my most tender esteem, and without consulting +your interests, I have united with her against you. You will murmur at +this, but the confidence she has given me, does it not demand this +return on my part? I will not hide from you any of my wickedness; I +have carried malice to the point of instructing her in the advantages +you might draw from everything I have written you about women. + +"I feel," she said to me, "how redoubtable is a lover who combines +with so much knowledge of the heart, the talent to express himself in +such noble and delicate language. What advantages can he not have of +women who reason? I have remarked it, it is by his powers of reasoning +that he has overcome them. He possesses the art of employing the +intelligence he finds in a woman to justify, in the eyes of his +reason, the errors into which he draws her. Besides, a woman in love +thinks she is obliged to proportion her sacrifices to the good +qualities of the man she loves. To an ordinary man, a weakness is a +weakness, he blushes at it; to a man of intelligence, it is a tribute +paid to his merits, it is even a proof of our discernment; he +eulogizes our good taste and takes the credit of it. It is thus by +turning it to the profit of the vanity which he rescues from virtue, +that this enchanter hides from our eyes the grades of our weakness." + +Such are at present, Marquis, the sentiments of the Countess, and I am +not sure if they leave you much to hope for. I do not ignore the fact +that it might have doubtless been better to carry out the project we +have in view without giving you any information concerning it. That +was our first intention; but could I in conscience secretly work +against you? Would it not have been to betray you? Moreover, by taking +that course, we should have appeared to be afraid of you, and hence we +found courage to put you in possession of all we expect to do to +resist you. + +Come, now, Marquis, our desire to see you really makes us impatient. +Would you know the reason? It is because we expect you without fearing +you. Remember that you have not now a weak loving woman to fight +against, she would be too feeble an adversary, her courage might give +out; it is I, now, it is a woman of cold blood, who fancies herself +interested in saving the reason of her friend from being wrecked. Yes, +I will penetrate to the bottom of your heart; I will read there your +perverse designs; I will forestall them; I will render all the +artifices of your malice innocuous. + +You may accuse me of treason as much as you please, but come to-night, +and I will convince you that my conduct is conformable to the most +exact equity. While your inexperience needed enlightenment, +assistance, encouragement, my zeal in your cause urged me to sacrifice +everything in your interests. Every advantage was then on the side of +the Countess. But now there is a different face on things; all her +pride to-day, is barely strong enough to resist you. Formerly, her +indifference was in her favor, and, what was worth still more, your +lack of skill; to-day you have the experience, and she has her reason +the less. + +After that, to combine with you against her, to betray the confidence +she reposes in me, to refuse her the succor she has the right to +expect from me, if you are sincere, you will avow it yourself, would +be a crying wrong. Henceforth, I purpose to repair the evil I have +done in revealing our secrets, by initiating you into our mysteries. I +do not know why, but the pleasure I feel in crossing you, appears to +be working in my favor, and you know how far my rights oven you +extend. My sentiments will always be the same, and, on your part +without doubt, you are too equitable to diminish your esteem for me, +because of anything I may have done in favor of a friend. + +By and by, then, at the Countess'. + + + + +XXXIII + +A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with Love + + +What, Marquis, afraid of two women? You already despair of your +affairs, because they oppose your success, and you are ready to +abandon the game? Dear me, I thought you had more courage. It is true +that the firmness of the Countess astonishes even me, but I do not +understand how she could hold out against your ardor for an entire +evening. I never saw you so seductive, and she has just confessed to +me that you were never so redoubtable. Now I can respond for her, +since her courage did not fail her on an occasion of so much peril. I +saw still farther, and I judge from her well sustained ironical +conversation, that she is only moderately smitten. A woman really +wounded by the shaft of love would not have played with sentiment in +such a flippant manner. + +This gives birth to a strange idea. It would be very delightful, if in +a joking way, we should discover that your tender Adelaide does not +love you up to a certain point. What a blow that would be to your +vanity! But you would quickly seek revenge. You might certainly find +beauties ready to console you for your loss. How often has vexation +made you say: "What is a woman's heart? Can any one give me a +definition of it?" + +However, do you know that I am tempted to find fault with you, and if +you take this too much to heart, I do not know what I would not do to +soften the situation. But I know you are strong minded. Your first +feelings of displeasure past, you will soon see that the best thing +you can do is to come down to the quality of friend, a position which +we have so generously offered you. You ought to consider yourself very +fortunate, your dismissal might be made absolute. But do not make this +out to be much of a victory, you will be more harshly treated if we +consider you more to be feared. + +Adieu, Marquis. The Countess, who is sitting at the head of my bed, +sends you a thousand tender things. She is edified by the discretion +with which you have treated us; not to insist when two ladies seem to +be so contrary to you, that is the height of gallantry. So much +modesty will certainly disarm them, and may some day move them to +pity. Hope, that is permitted you. + + +From the Countess. + +Although you may be inspired by the most flattering hopes, Marquis, I +will add a few words to this letter. I have not read it, but I suspect +that it refers to me. I wish, however, to write you with my own hand +that we shall be alone here all day. I wish to tell you that I love +you moderately well at present, but that I have the greatest desire +in the world not to love you at all. However, if you deem it advisable +to come and trouble our little party, it gives me pleasure to warn you +that your heart will be exposed to the greatest danger. I am told that +I am handsomer to-day than you have ever found me to be, and I never +felt more in the humor to treat you badly. + + + + +XXXIV + +Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder + + +All this, Marquis, begins to pass the bounds of pleasantry. Explain +yourself, I pray you. Did you pretend to speak seriously in your +letter, in making it understood that I was acting on this occasion +through jealousy, and that I was trying to separate you and the +Countess to profit by it myself? + +You are either the wickedest of men or the most adroit; the wickedest +if you ever could suspect me guilty of such baseness; the most adroit, +if you have thrown out that idea to make my friend suspect me. I see +very clearly in all this, that the alternative is equally injurious to +me, since the Countess has taken the matter to heart. I find that my +relations with her are very embarrassing. Criminal that you are, how +well you know your ascendency over her heart! You could not better +attack her than by the appearance of indifference you affect. Not +deign to answer my last letter, not come to the rendezvous given you, +remain away from us three days, and after all that, to write us the +coldest letter possible, oh, I confess it frankly, that is to act like +a perfect man; that is what I call a master stroke, and the most +complete success has responded to your hope. The Countess has not +been able to stand against so much coolness. The fear that this +indifference may become real has caused her a mortal anxiety. + +Great Heavens! What is the most reasonable woman when love has turned +her head? Why were you not the witness of the reproaches I have just +heard? How is that? To hear the Countess to-day, gave me an injurious +opinion of her virtue, a false idea of your pretensions, and I +considered your designs criminal because you took so much pleasure in +punishing her. + +I am hard, unjust, cruel, I can not remember all the epithets with +which I was covered. What outbursts! Oh, I protest to you, this will +be the last storm I will undergo for being mixed up in your affairs, +and I very cordially renounce the confidence with which you have both +honored me. Advisers do not play a very agreeable part in such cases, +so it seems to me, always charged with what is disagreeable in +quarrels, and the lovers only profit by a reconciliation. + +However, after due reflection, I think I should be very silly to take +offence at this. You are two children whose follies will amuse me, I +ought to look upon them with the eye of a philosopher, and finish by +being the friend of both. Come then, at once, and assure me if that +resolution will suit you. Now, do not play the petty cruel role any +more. Come and make peace. These poor children; one of them has such +innocent motives, the other is so sure of her virtue, that to stand in +the way of their inclination, is surely to afflict them without +reason. + + + + +XXXV + +The Heart Should be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano + + +I am beginning to understand, Marquis, that the only way to live with +the most reasonable woman, is never to meddle with her heart affairs. +I have, therefore, made up my mind. Henceforward I shall never mention +your name to the Countess unless she insists upon my doing so; I do +not like bickerings. + +But this resolution will change nothing of my sentiments for you, nor +my friendship for her. And, although I still stand her friend, I shall +not scruple to make use of my friendship, so far as you are concerned, +as I have in the past I shall continue, since you so wish it, to give +you my ideas on the situations in which you may become involved, on +condition, however, that you permit me sometimes to laugh at your +expense, a liberty I shall not take to-day, because if the Countess +follows up the plan she has formed, that is, if she persists in +refusing to see you alone, I do not see that your affairs will advance +very rapidly. She remembers what I told her, she knows her heart, and +has reason to fear it. + +It is only an imprudent woman who relies upon her own strength, and +exposes herself without anxiety to the advances of the man she loves. +The agitation which animates him, the fire with which his whole person +appears to be burning, excites our senses, fires our imagination, +appeals to our desires. I said to the Countess one day: "We resemble +your clavecin; however well disposed it may be to respond to the hand +which should play upon it, until it feels the impression of that hand, +it remains silent; touch its keys, and sounds are heard." Finish the +parallel, and draw your conclusions. + +But after all, why should you complain, Monsieur, the metaphysician? +To see the Countess, hear the soft tones of her voice, render her +little attentions, carry the delicacy of sentiment beyond the range of +mortal vision, feel edified at her discourses on virtue, are not these +supreme felicity for you? Leave for earthy souls the gross sentiments +which are beginning to develop in you. To look at you to-day, it might +be said that I was not so far out of the way when I declared love to +be the work of the senses. Your own experience will compel you to avow +that I had some good reason for saying so, for which I am not at all +sorry. Consider yourself punished for your injustice. Adieu. + +Your old rival, the Chevalier, has revenged himself for the rigors of +the Countess, by tying himself up with the Marquise, her relative. +This choice is assuredly a eulogy on his good taste, they are made for +each other. I shall be very much charmed to know whither their fine +passion will lead them. + + + + +XXXVI + +Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women + + +Do you think, Marquis, that I have not felt all the sarcasm you have +deigned to turn against me on account of my pretended reconciliation +with the Countess? Know this, sir, that we have never been at outs. + +It is true, she begged me to forget her vivacity, which she claimed +was due to her love, and she insisted that I should continue to give +her good counsel. But Good Heavens! Of what use are my counsels except +to provide you with an additional triumph? The best advice I can give +her is to break off her relations with you, for whatever confidence +she may have in her pride, her only preservative against you is +flight. She believes, for example, that she used her reason with good +effect in the conversation you have related to me. But every +reasonable woman does not fail to use the same language as soon as a +lover shows her some respectful pretensions. + +"I only want your heart," they say, "your sentiments, your esteem is +all I desire. Alas! you will find only too many women with so little +delicacy as to believe themselves very happy in accepting what I +refuse. I will never envy them a happiness of that kind." + +Be on your guard, Marquis, and do not openly combat such fine +sentiments; to doubt a woman's sincerity on such occasions, is to do +more than offend them, it is to be maladroit. You must applaud their +mistaken idea if you would profit by it. They wish to appear +high-minded, and sensible only of the pleasures of the soul, it is +their system, their esprit du corps. If some women are in good faith +on this point, how many are there who treat it as an illusion and wish +to impose it upon you? + +But whatever may be the reason which impels them to put you on a false +scent, ought you not to be delighted that they are willing to take the +trouble to deceive you? What obligations are you not under? They give +in this manner, a high value to those who, without it, would be very +undesirable. Admire our strategy when we feign indifference to what +you call the pleasures of love, pretending even to be far removed from +its sweetness, we augment the grandeur of the sacrifice we make for +you, by it, we even inspire the gratitude of the authors of the very +benefits we receive from them, you are satisfied with the good you do +us. + +And since it was said that we make it a duty to deceive you, what +obligation do you not owe us? We have chosen the most obliging way to +do it. You are the first to gain by this deceit, for we can not +multiply obstacles without enhancing the price of your victory. +Troubles, cares, are not these the money with which lovers pay for +their pleasures? What a satisfaction for your vanity to be able to +say within yourselves: "This woman, so refined, so insensible to the +impressions of the senses; this woman who fears disdain so much, comes +to me, nevertheless, and sacrifices her repugnance, her fears, her +pride? My own merit, the charms of my person, my skill, have +surmounted invincible objects for something quite different. How +satisfied I am with my prowess!" + +If women acted in good faith, if they were in as much haste to show +you their desires as you are to penetrate them, you could not talk +that way. How many pleasures lost! But you can not impute wrong to +this artifice, it gives birth to so many advantages. Pretend to be +deceived, and it will become a pleasure to you. + +If the Countess knew what I have written, how she would reproach me! + + + + +XXXVII + +The Allurements of Stage Women + + +I know too well that a man in your position, particularly a military +man, is often exposed to bad company, consequently, he is attracted by +the divinities you mention. In spite of that you are not deceived, and +I would probably censure you, if I were not so sure, that, in the +present state of your heart, the heroines of the theater are not +dangerous to you. But the Countess is less indulgent, you say. Her +jealousy does not astonish me, she confirms my ideas concerning female +metaphysicians. I know how much credit is due their sincerity. Her +complaints are very singular, for, what is she deprived of? The women +in question are nothing but women of sentiment, and it is to sentiment +that the Countess is attached. + +How little women are in accord! They pretend to despise women of the +stage; they fear them too much to despise them. But after all, are +they wrong to consider them rivals? Are you not more captivated with +their free and easy style, than with that of a sensible woman who has +nothing to offer but order, decency, and uniformity? With the former, +men are at their ease, they appear to be in their element; with the +latter, men are kept within bounds, obliged to stand on their +dignity, and to be very circumspect. From the portrait of several of +them, I should judge that there are some of them very capable of +making many men unfaithful to the most beloved mistress. But with a +sensible man, this infidelity, if it be one, can not be of long +duration. These women may create a sudden, lively desire, but never a +veritable passion. + +The fairies of the operatic stage would be too dangerous, if they had +the wit or the humor always to amuse you as much as they do the first +time you are thrown on their company. However little jargon, habits, +and decency they have on the surface, it is possible that they may +please you at first. You men have so little refinement sometimes! The +freedom of their conversation, the vivacity of their sallies of +alleged wit, their giddy ways, all this affords you a situation that +charms; a lively and silly joy seizes upon you, the hours you pass +with them seem to be only moments. But happily for you, they seldom +possess sufficient resources to maintain a role so amusing. Inasmuch +as they lack education and culture, they soon travel around the small +circle of their accomplishments. They feed you with the same +pleasantries, the same stories, the same antics, and it is seldom one +laughs twice at the same thing when one has no esteem for the fun +maker. + +The Countess need not worry, for I know you well enough to assure her +that it is not that class of women she may apprehend, there are in the +world, others more redoubtable, they are the "gallant women," those +equivocal women in society. They occupy a middle position between good +women and those I have been talking about; they associate with the +former and are not different from the latter except on the surface. +More voluptuous than tender, they seduce by lending to the least +refined sentiments an air of passion which is mistaken for love. They +understand how to convey an impression of tenderness to what is only a +taste for pleasure. They make you believe that it is by choice, by a +knowledge of your merit that they yield. If you do not know them to be +gallant women, the shade of difference which distinguishes the true +motives which actuates them, from the sensibility of the heart, is +impossible to seize. You accept for excess of passion what is only an +intoxication of the senses. You imagine you are loved because you are +lovable, but it is only because you are a man. + +These are the women I should fear if I were in the place of the +Countess. The financial woman who has lately appeared in society +belongs to this class, but I have already warned the Countess. + +I call to mind, here, that in your preceding letter, you mentioned the +allurements which the Countess thought proper to manifest? She was +right in taking umbrage. Your passion for her is truly too great to +prevent you from sacrificing everything, but I fear you will not +always be so honest. + +Madame de ---- possesses bloom and cheerfulness; she is at an age when +women assume charge of young men who desire to be fitted for society, +and to learn their first lessons in gallantry. The interesting and +affectionate disposition you find in her will have its effect, but be +careful, it is I who warn you. Although I despise such women, it +happens that they have the power to create attachments; they often +find the secret of making you commit more follies than any of the +other women. + + + + +XXXVIII + +Varieties of Resistance are Essential + + +I hasten to tell you, Marquis, that I have just maintained a thesis +against Monsieur de la Bruyere. No doubt you admire my temerity? +However it is true. He pretends that Corneille described men as they +should be, and Racine as they are; I held the contrary. We had some +illustrious spectators of the dispute, and I ought to be very proud of +the suffrages in my favor. + +But all the details would be too long to write you, so come and we +will talk them over. Every one has his own fashion of describing +things, I have mine, I know. I represent women as they are, and I am +very sorry not to be able to represent them as they should be. Now I +shall reply to your letter. + +The species of languor which affects you does not surprise me. The +malady which afflicts the Marquise has deprived you of the pleasure of +seeing the Countess, and your heart remaining in the same condition +for three days, it is not surprising that ennui should have gained +upon it. Neither does your present indifference for the Countess alarm +me. In the greatest passions there are always moments of lukewarmness, +which astonish the hearts that feel the sensation. Whether the heart, +constantly agitated by the same emotions, finally tires, or whether it +is absolutely impossible for it to be always employed with the same +object, there are moments of indifference, the cause of which can not +be ascertained. The livelier the emotions of the heart, the more +profound the calm that is sure to follow, and it is this calm that is +always more fateful to the object loved than storm and agitation. Love +is extinguished by a resistance too severe or constant. But an +intelligent woman goes beyond that, she varies her manner of +resisting; this is the sublimity of the art. + +Now, with the Countess, the duties of friendship are preferable to the +claims of love, and that is another reason for your indifference +toward her. Love is a jealous and tyrannical sentiment, which is never +satiated until the object loved has sacrificed upon its altar all +desires and passions. You do nothing for it unless you do everything. +Whenever you prefer duty, friendship, etc., it claims the right to +complain. It demands revenge. The small courtesies you deemed it +necessary to show Madame de ---- are proofs of it. I would have much +preferred, though, you had not carried them so far as accompanying her +home. The length of time you passed in her company, the pleasure you +experienced in conversing with her, the questions she put to you on +the state of your heart, all goes to prove the truth of what I said in +my last letter. It is vain for you to protest that you came away more +amorous than ever of the Countess, your embarrassment when she +inquired whether you had remained long with your "fermiere generale," +the attempt you made to deceive her by an evasive answer, the extreme +care you took to disarm her slightest suspicion, are indications to me +that you are far more guilty than you pretend, or than you are aware +of yourself. + +The Countess suffers the consequences of all that. Do you not see how +she affects to rouse your jealousy by praising the Chevalier, your +ancient rival? For once, I can assure you that you will not so soon be +affected by the languors we mentioned a short time ago. Jealousy will +give you something to think about. Do you count for nothing, the +sufferings of the Marquise? You will soon see her, the ravages of the +smallpox will not alone disfigure her face, for her disposition will +be very different, as soon as she learns the extent of her misfortune. +How I pity her; how I pity other women! With what cordiality she will +hate them and tear them to tatters! The Countess is her best friend, +will she be so very long? She is so handsome, her complexion casts the +others in the shade. What storms I foresee! + +I had forgotten to quarrel with you about your treatment of me. You +have been so indiscreet as to show my recent letters to M. de la +Rochefoucauld. I will cease writing you if you continue to divulge my +secret. I am willing to talk personally with him about my ideas, but I +am far from flattering myself that I write well enough to withstand +the criticism of a reader like him. + + + + +XXXIX + +The True Value of Compliments Among Women + + +The marks left by the smallpox on the Marquise's face have set her +wild. Her resolution not to show herself for a long time does not +surprise me. How could she appear in public in such a state? If the +accident which humiliates her had not happened, how she would have +made the poor Chevalier suffer! Does not this prove that female virtue +depends upon circumstances, and diminishes with pride? + +How I fear a similar example in the case of the Countess! Nothing is +more dangerous for a woman than the weaknesses of her friend; love, +already too seductive in itself, becomes more so through the contagion +of example, if I may so speak; it is not only in our heart that it +gathers strength; it acquires new weapons against reason from its +environment. A woman who has fallen under its ban, deems herself +interested, for her own justification, in conducting her friend to the +edge of the same precipice, and I am not, therefore, surprised at what +the Marquise says in your favor. Up to the present moment they have +been guided by the same principles; what a shame, then, for her, that +the Countess could not have been guaranteed against the effects of it! +Now, the Marquise has a strong reason the more for contributing to +the defeat of her friend; she has become positively ugly, and +consequently obliged to be more complaisant in retaining a lover. Will +she suffer another woman to keep hers at a less cost? That would be to +recognize too humiliating a superiority, and I can assure you that she +will do the most singular things to bring her amiable widower up to +the point. + +If she succeed, how much I fear everything will be changed! To have +been as beautiful as another woman, and to be so no longer, although +she embellishes herself every day, and to suffer her presence every +day, is, I vow, an effort beyond the strength of the most reasonable +woman, greater than the most determined philosophy. Among women +friendship ceases where rivalry begins. By rivalry, I mean that of +beauty only, it would be too much to add that of sentiment. + +I foresee this with regret, but it is my duty to forewarn you. +Whatever precautions the Countess may take to control the amour propre +of the Marquise, she will never make anything else out of her than an +ingrate. I do not know by what fatality, everything a beautiful woman +tells one who is no longer beautiful, assumes in the mouth, an +impression of a commiseration which breaks down the most carefully +devised management, and humiliates her whom it is thought to console. +The more a woman strives to efface the superiority she possesses over +an unfortunate sister woman, the more she makes that superiority +apparent, until the latter reaches the opinion that it is only +through generosity that she is permitted to occupy the subordinate +position left her. + +You may depend upon it, Marquis, that women are never misled when it +comes to mutual praise; they fully appreciate the eulogies +interchanged among themselves; and as they speak without sincerity, so +they listen with little gratitude. And although she who speaks, in +praising the beauty of another, may do so in good faith, she who +listens to the eulogy, considers less what the other says than her +style of beauty. Is she ugly? We believe and love her, but if she be +as handsome as we, we thank her coldly and disdain her; handsomer, we +hate her more than before she spoke. + +You must understand this, Marquis, that as much as two beautiful women +may have something between them to explain, it is impossible for them +to form a solid friendship. Can two merchants who have the same goods +to sell become good neighbors? Men do not penetrate the true cause of +the lack of cordiality among women. Those who are the most intimate +friends often quarrel over nothing, but do you suppose this "nothing" +is the real occasion of their quarrel? It is only the pretext. We hide +the motive of our actions when to reveal it would be a humiliation. We +do not care to make public the fact that it is jealousy for the beauty +of our friend that is the real cause, to give that as the reason for +estrangement would be to charge us with envy, a pleasure one woman +will not give another; she prefers injustice. Whenever it happens +that two beautiful women are so happy as to find a pretext to get rid +of each other, they seize upon it with vivacity, and hate each other +with a cordiality which proves how much they loved each other before +the rupture. + +Well, Marquis, am I talking to you with sufficient frankness? You see +to what lengths my sincerity goes. I try to give you just ideas of +everything, even at my own expense, for I am assuredly not more exempt +than another woman from the faults I sometimes criticise. But as I am +sure that what passes between us will be buried in oblivion, I do not +fear embroiling myself in a quarrel with all my sex, they might, +perhaps, claim the right to blame my ingenuity. + +But the Countess is above all such petty things, she agrees, however, +with everything I have just said. Are there many women like her? + + + + +XL + +Oratory and Fine Phrases do Not Breed Love + + +The example of the Marquise has not yet had any effect on the heart of +her friend. It appears, on the contrary, that she is more on guard +against you, and that you have drawn upon yourself her reproaches +through some slight favor you have deprived her of. + +I have been thinking that she would not fail on this occasion to +recall to your recollection, the protestations of respect and +disinterestedness you made when you declared your passion for her. It +is customary in similar cases. But what seems strange about it is, +that the same eagerness that a woman accepts as a proof of disrespect, +before she is in perfect accord with her lover, becomes, in her +imagination, a proof of love and esteem, as soon as they meet on a +common ground. + +Listen to married women, and to all those who, being unmarried, permit +the same prerogatives; hear them, I say, in their secret complaints +against unfaithful husbands and cooling lovers. They are despised, and +that is the sole reason they can imagine. But with us, what they +consider a mark of esteem and sincerity, is it anything else than the +contrary? I told you some time ago, that women themselves, when they +are acting in good faith, go farther than men in making love consist +in an effervescence of the blood. Study a lover at the commencement of +her passion: with her, then, love is purely a metaphysical sentiment, +with which the senses have not the least relation. Similar to those +philosophers who, in the midst of grievous torments would not confess +that they were suffering pain, she is a martyr to her own system; but, +at last, while combatting this chimera, the poor thing becomes +affected by a change; her lover vainly repeats that love is a divine, +metaphysical sentiment, that it lives on fine phrases, on spiritual +discourses, that it would be degrading to mingle with it anything +material and human; he vainly, boasts of his respect and refinement. I +tell you, Marquis, on the part of all women, that such an orator will +never make his fortune. His respect will be taken as an insult, his +refinement for derision, and his fine discourses for ridiculous +pretexts. All the grace that will be accorded him, is that she will +find a pretext to quarrel with him because he has been less refined +with some other woman, and that he will be put to the sorrowful +necessity of displaying his high flown sentiments to his titular +mistress, and what is admirable about this is, that the excuse for it +arises out of the same principle. + +P.S.--You have so much deference for my demands! You not only show my +letters to M. de la Rochefoucauld, but you read them before the whole +assembly of my friends. It is true that the indulgence with which my +friends judge them, consoles me somewhat for your indiscretion, and I +see very well that the best thing for me to do is to continue on in my +own way as I have in the past. But, at least, be discreet when I +mention matters relating to the glory of the Countess; otherwise, no +letters. + + + + +XLI + +Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor + + +No, Marquis, I can not pardon in you the species of fury with which +you desire what you are pleased to call the "supreme happiness." How +blind you are, not to know that when you are sure of a woman's heart, +it is in your interests to enjoy her defeat a long time before it +becomes entire. Will you never understand, that of all there is good +on earth, it is the sweetness of love that must be used with the +greatest economy? + +If I were a man and were so fortunate as to have captured the heart of +a woman like the Countess, with what discretion I would use my +advantages? How many gradations there would be in the law I should +impose upon myself to overlook them successively and even leisurely? +Of how many amiable pleasures, unknown to men, would not I be the +creator? Like a miser, I would contemplate my treasure unceasingly, +learn its precious value, feel that in it consisted all my felicity, +base all my happiness upon the possession of it, reflect that it is +all mine, that I may dispose of it and yet maintain my resolution not +to deprive myself of its use. + +What a satisfaction to read in the eyes of an adorable woman the power +you have over her; to see her slightest acts give birth to an +impression of tenderness, whenever they relate to you; to hear her +voice soften when it is to you or of you she speaks; to enjoy her +confusion at your slightest eagerness, her anxiety at your most +innocent caresses? Is there a more delicious condition than that of a +lover who is sure of being loved, and can there be any sweeter than at +such moments? What a charm for a lover to be expected with an +impatience that is not concealed; to be received with an eagerness all +the more flattering from the effort made to hide the half of it? + +She dresses in a fashion to please; she assumes the deportment, the +style, the pose that may flatter her lover the most. In former times +women dressed to please in general, now their entire toilette is to +please men; for his sake she wears bangles, jewelry, ribbons, +bracelets, rings. He is the object of it all, the woman is transformed +into the man; it is he she loves in her own person. Can you find +anything in love more enchanting than the resistance of a woman who +implores you not to take advantage of her weakness? Is there anything, +in a word, more seductive than a voice almost stifled with emotion, +than a refusal for which she reproaches herself, and, the rigor of +which she attempts to soften by tender looks, before a complaint is +made? I can not conceive any. + +But it is certain that as soon as she yields to your eagerness, all +these pleasures weaken in proportion to the facility met. You alone +may prolong them, even increase them, by taking the time to know all +the sweetness and its taste. However, you are not satisfied unless +the possession, be entire, easy, and continuous. And after that, you +are surprised to find indifference, coolness, and inconstancy in your +heart. Have you not done everything to satiate your passion for the +beloved object? I have always contended that love never dies from +desire but often from indigestion, and I will sometime tell you in +confidence my feelings for Count ----. You will understand from that +how to manage a passion to render happiness enduring; you will see +whether I know the human heart and true felicity; you will learn from +my example that the economy of the sentiments is, in the question of +love, the only reasonable metaphysics. In fine, you will know how +little you understand your true interests in your conduct toward the +Countess. To interfere with your projects, I shall be with her as +often as it is possible. Now, do not be formal, and tell me that I am +an advocate on both sides; for I am persuaded that I am acting for the +good of the parties interested. + + + + +XLII + +Surface Indications in Women are Not Always Guides + + +What, I censure you, Marquis? I will take good care not to do so, I +assure you. You have not been willing to follow my advice, and hence, +I am not at all sorry for having ill-used you. You thought you had +nothing to do but to treat the Countess roughly. Her easy fashion of +treating love, her accessibility, her indulgence for your numerous +faults, the freedom with which she mocks the Platonicians, all this +encouraged you to hope that she was not very severe, but you have just +discovered your mistake. All this outward show was nothing but +deceitful and perfidious allurements. To take advantage thus of the +good faith of any one--I must confess that it is a conduct which cries +for vengeance; she deserves all the names you give her. + +But do you wish me to talk to you with my customary frankness? You +have fallen into an error which is common among men. They judge women +from the surface. They imagine that a woman whose virtue is not always +on the qui vive, will be easier to overcome than a prude; even +experience does not undeceive them. How often are they exposed to a +severity all the keener that it was unexpected? Their custom then, is +to accuse women of caprice and oddity; all of you use the same +language, and say: Why such equivocal conduct? When a woman has +decided to remain intractable, why surprise the credulity of a lover? +Why not possess an exterior conformable to her sentiments? In a word, +why permit a man to love her, when she does not care ever to see him +again? Is this not being odd and false? Is it not trifling with +sentiment? + +You are in error, gentlemen, you are imposing upon your vanity, it is +in vain you try to put us on a false scent, that, of itself, is +offensive, and you talk of sentiment as ennobling a thing that +resembles it very little. Are not you, yourselves, to blame if we +treat you thus? However little intelligence a woman may have, she +knows that the strongest tie to bind you to her is anticipation, +wherefore, you must let her lay the blame on you. If she were to arm +herself from the first with a severity that would indicate that she is +invincible, from that time, no lovers for her. What a solitude would +be hers, what shame even? For a woman of the most pronounced virtue is +no less sensible of the desire to please, she makes her glory consist +in securing homage and adoration. But without ignoring the fact that +those she expects attention from are induced to bestow them only for +reasons that wound her pride; unable to reform this defect, the only +part she can take is to use it to her advantage to keep them by her +side; she knows how to keep them, and not destroy the very hopes +which, however, she is determined never to gratify. With care and +skill she succeeds. Hence, as soon as a woman understands her real +interests she does not fail to say to herself what the Countess +confessed to me at our last interview: + +"I can well appreciate the 'I love you' of the men; I do not disguise +the fact that I know what it signifies at bottom, therefore upon me +rests the burden of being offended at hearing them; but when women +have penetrated their motives, they have need of their vanity to +disconcert their designs. Our anger, when they have offended us, is +not the best weapon to use in opposing them. Whoever must go outside +herself and become angry to resist them, exposes her weakness. A fine +irony, a piquant raillery, a humiliating coolness, these are what +discourage them. Never a quarrel with them, consequently no +reconciliation. What advantages does not this mode of procedure take +from them! + +"The prude, it is true, follows a quite different method. If she is +exposed to the least danger, she does not imagine herself to be +reasonable but in proportion to the resentment she experiences; but +upon whom does such conduct impose? Every man who knows the cards, +says to himself: 'I am ill used because the opportunity is +unfavorable. It is my awkwardness that is punished and not my +temerity. Another time, that will be well received which is a crime +to-day; this severity is a notice to redouble my effort, to merit more +indulgence and disarm pride; she wishes to be appeased.' And the only +means in such case to make her forget the offense is, that in making +an apology to repeat it a second time. With my recipe, I am certain +that a man will never reason that way. + +"The Marquis, for example, has sometimes permitted me to read in his +eyes his respectful intentions. I never knew but one way to punish +him; I have feigned not to understand him; insensibly, I have diverted +his mind to other objects. And this recipe has worked well up to the +moment I last saw him at my house. There was no way to dissimulate +with him; he wished to honor me with some familiarities, and I stopped +him immediately, but not in anger. I deemed it more prudent to arm +myself with reason than with anger. I appeared to be more afflicted +than irritated, and I am sure my grief touched his heart more than +bitter reproaches which might have alarmed him. He went away very much +dissatisfied; and just see what the heart is: at first, I was afraid I +had driven him away forever, I was tempted to reproach myself for my +cruelty, but, upon reflection, I felt reassured. Has severity ever +produced inconstancy?" + +To go on: We talked until we were out of breath, and everything the +Countess told me gave me to understand that she had made up her mind. +It will be in vain for you to cry out against her injustice, consider +her as odd and inhuman, she will not accept any of the sweetness of +love unless it costs her pride nothing, and I observe that she is +following that resolution with more firmness than I imagined her +capable of. The loss of your heart would undoubtedly be a misfortune +for which she could never be consoled. But, on the other hand, the +conditions you place upon your perseverance appear too hard to be +accepted; she is willing to compromise with you. She hopes to be able +to hold you without betraying her duty, a project worthy of her +courage, and I hope it will succeed better than the plan she had +formed to guarantee her heart against love. Let us await the outcome. + +Shall we see you to-morrow at Madame la Presidente's? If you should +desire to have an occasion to speak to her, I do not doubt that you +will make your peace. + + + + +XLIII + +Women Demand Respect + + +I should never have expected it, Marquis. What! My zeal in your behalf +has drawn your reproaches down upon me? I share with the Countess the +bad humor her severity has caused! you. Do you know? If what you say +were well founded, nothing could be more piquant for me than the +ironical tone in which you laud my principles. But to render me +responsible for your success, as you attempt, have you dared think for +an instant that my object in writing you, was ever for the purpose of +giving you lessons in seduction? Do you not perceive any difference in +teaching you to please, and exciting you toward seduction? I have told +you the motives which incline women to love, it is true, but have I +ever said that they were easier to vanquish? Have I ever told you to +attack them by sensuality, and that in attacking them to suppose them +without delicacy? I do not believe it. + +When your inexperience and your timidity might cause you to play the +role of a ridiculous personage among women, I explained the harm these +defects might cause you in the world. I advised you to have more +confidence, in order to lead you insensibly in the direction of that +noble and respectful boldness you should have when with women. But as +soon as I saw that your pretensions were going too far, and that they +might wound the reputation of the Countess, I did not dissimulate, I +took sides against you, and nothing was more reasonable, I had become +her friend. You see, then, how unjust you are in my regard, and you +are no less so in regard to her. You treat her as if she were an +equivocal character. According to your idea, she has neither decided +for nor against gallantry, and what you clearly see in her conduct is, +that she is a more logical coquette than other women. What an opinion! + +But there is much to pardon in your situation. However, a man without +prejudice, would see in the Countess only a lover as reasonable as she +is tender; a woman who, without having an ostentatious virtue, +nevertheless remains constantly attached to it; a woman, in a word, +who seeks in good faith the proper means of reconciling love and duty. +The difficulty in allying these two contraries is not slight, and it +is the source of the inequalities that wound you. Figure to yourself +the combats she must sustain, the revolutions she suffers, her +embarrassment in endeavoring to preserve a lover whom too uniform a +resistance might repel. If she were sure of keeping you by resisting +your advances; but you carry your odd conduct to the extent of leaving +her when her resistance is too prolonged. While praising our virtue, +you abandon us, and then, what shame for us! But since in both cases +it is not certain that her lover will be held, it is preferable to +accept the inconvenient rather than cause you to lose her heart and +her esteem. + +That is our advice, for the Countess and I think precisely alike on +the subject. Be more equitable, Marquis; complain of her rather than +criticise her. If her character were more decided, perhaps you would +be better satisfied with her; but, even in that case would you be +satisfied very long? I doubt it. + +Adieu. We count on seeing you this evening at Madame de La Fayette's, +and that you will prove more reasonable. The Abbe Gedoyn will be +presented me. The assembly will be brilliant, but you will doubtless +be bored, for you will not see the only object that can attract you, +and you will say of my apartment, what Malherbe so well says of the +garden of the Louvre: + +"Mais quoi que vous ayez, vous n'avez point Caliste, +Et moi je ne vois rien, quand je ne la vois pas." + +(Whatever you may have Caliste you have not got, +And I, I can see nothing when I see her not.) + + + + +XLIV + +Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's Opinion + + +A calm has succeeded the storm, Marquis, and I see by your letter that +you are more satisfied with the Countess and with yourself. How +powerful logic is coming from the mouth of a woman we adore! You see +how the conduct of our friend has produced an opposite effect from +that of the Marquise; the severity of the former increasing your +esteem and love for her and the kindness of the Marquise making an +unfaithful lover out of the Chevalier. So it generally happens among +men, ingratitude is commonly the price of benefits. This misfortune, +however, is not always beyond the reach of remedies, and in this +connection I wish to give you the contents of a letter I received from +Monsieur de Saint-Evremond a few days ago. You are not ignorant of the +intimate relations that have always existed between us. + +The young Count de ---- had just espoused Mademoiselle ----, of whom +he was passionately amorous. He complained one day to me that hymen +and the possession of the beloved object weakened every day, and often +destroyed the most tender love. We discussed the subject for a long +time, and as I happened to write to Saint-Evremond that day, I +submitted the question to him. This is his reply: + + +SAINT-EVREMOND TO MADEMOISELLE DE L'ENCLOS. + +My opinion is exactly in line with yours, Mademoiselle; it is not +always, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved object +which, of itself, destroys love, the true source of the +dissatisfaction that follows love is in the unintelligent manner of +economizing the sentiments, a possession too easy, complete, and +prolonged. + +When we have yielded to the transports of a passion without reserve, +the tremendous shock to the soul can not fail quickly to leave it in a +profound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms and +chills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calm +which follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equal +and more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. +Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desire +anything. You will find that your desires are nothing but curiosity, +and this curiosity, which is one of the forces of the heart, +satisfied, our desires vanish. Whoever, therefore, would hold a spouse +or a lover, should leave him something to be desired, something new +should be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, +procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I will +vouch for his perseverance in fidelity. + +I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat," is, in +an ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon the +lover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the cooling +of the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is due +to her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expended +in a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination she +had excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of her +lover, she becomes always the same statue; no variety to be hoped for, +and her lover knows it well. + +But in the woman I have in mind, it is the aurora of a lovelier day; +it is the beginning of the most satisfying pleasures. I understand by +effusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, +those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us the +certainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all the +esteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch when a +man of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which have always +been hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires who brings into +play all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; her +heart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far from +leading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. + +But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able to +control her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough +(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love with +prudence, with restraint, and modesty is for that reason the most +ingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to the +impetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in the +object loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That is +not love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover into +a spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve and +economy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, the +heart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. +If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will be +nothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive in +a lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, will +experience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity of +separating. + +To sum up; there is more intelligence required to love than is +generally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of the +fatal "yes," or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a woman +does not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, +desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches the +summit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care to +retain him, as he exhibited in overcoming her; the desire to keep him +should render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to a +high position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficient to +make a man amorous; to render him constant, something more is +necessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal of +intelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and fickleness. +Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become too +tender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good, if +they were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. I +maintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving the +heart something to wish for, and the time to consider. + +I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is always +the fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling the +time when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by their +side. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still in +their power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which is +so dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they will +not be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shall +become more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing new +difficulties, arousing our anxieties, in fine, forcing us to desire +new proofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes its +value in our estimation. They will then find less cause of complaint +in us, and will be better satisfied with themselves. + +Shall I frankly avow it? Things would indeed change, if women would +remember at the right time that their role is always that of the party +to be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors; that, +created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in an +excess of passion, they should guard against surrendering at +discretion; the lover should always have something to ask, and +consequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favors +without limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, +revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on the +same level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat, are +indistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority; +but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing further to +do than to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper and +faithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be the +foundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; but +these qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offset +by a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bring +on languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constituted +heart. + +Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoying +prosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so much +pleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identically +erroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, the +other fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessary +consequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglects +to be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by the +practice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, and +henceforward, no more seasoning in their relations; no more of those +trifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction by +forestalling it. + +But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated by +occasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretend +lovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I only +desire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings should +emanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by a +species of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her; +that by an excessive sensitiveness, she does not convert her love into +a source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of her +existence; that by a scrupulous fidelity, she may not render her lover +too sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. + +Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness of +temper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. +Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts of +their spouses or their lovers by too many indulgences and facilities. +What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificing +everything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. +So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soon +become accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as a +favor. + +You see women every day (even among those we despise with so much +reason), who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who are +attached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, +these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I am +persuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would never +think of following such an example. That military manner is repugnant +to gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes the +charm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable woman +soften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what is +necessary to hold a lover. + +We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we often +demand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in the +bottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us that +the governing hand bears down upon us sometimes for very good reasons, +and we take kindly to it. + +Now, for my last word: In everything relating to the force and energy +of love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope for +happiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as they +can govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their own +inclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromising +it and without abusing it. + + + + +XLV + +What Favors Men Consider Faults + + +To explain in two words to your satisfaction, Marquis. This is what I +think of the letter I sent you yesterday: For a woman to profit by the +advice of Monsieur de Saint-Evremond it is requisite that she should +be affected with only a mediocre fancy, and have excited the passion +of love. However, we shall talk about that more at large whenever it +may please you, now, I will take up what concerns you. + +The sacrifice the Countess has exacted of you is well worth the price +you put upon it. To renounce for her sake, a woman whose exterior +proclaimed her readiness to accord you whatever favor you might be +willing to ask; to renounce her publicly, in the presence of her +rival, and with so little regard for her vanity, is an effort which +naturally will not pass without a proportionate recompense. The +Countess could not have found a happier pretext for giving you her +portrait. + +But to take a solemn day when the Marquise received at her home for +the first time since her illness; to select a moment when the moneyed +woman was taking up arms to make an assault of beauty upon a woman of +rank; to speak to her merely in passing, to pretend to surrender +yourself entirely to the pleasure of seeing her rival; to entertain +the latter and become one of her party, is an outrage for which you +will never be pardoned. Revenge will come quickly, and be as cruel as +possible, you will see. It is I who guarantee it. Now for the second +paragraph of your letter: + +You ask me whether the last favor, or rather the last fault we can +commit, is a certain proof that a woman loves you. Yes and no. + +Yes, if you love the woman for whom you had your first passion, and +she is refined and virtuous. But even in such a case, this proof will +not be any more certain, or more flattering for you, than all the +others she may have given you of her inclination. Whatever a woman may +do when she loves, even things of the slightest essential nature in +appearance are as much certain marks of her passion, as those greater +things of which men are so proud. I will even add, that if this +virtuous woman is of a certain disposition, the last favor will prove +less than a thousand other small sacrifices you count for nothing, for +then, on her own behalf less than on yours, she is too much interested +in listening to you, for you to claim the glory of having persuaded +her, although every one else would have been accorded the same favor. + +I know a woman who permitted herself to be vanquished two or three +times by men she did not love, and the man she really loved never +obtained a single favor. It may happen, then, that the last favor +proves nothing to him to whom it is granted. Whereas, on the contrary, +it may happen that he owes the granting of it to the little regard +had for him. Women never respect themselves more than with those they +esteem, and you may be quite sure that it requires a very imperious +inclination to cause a reasonable woman to forget herself in the +presence of one whose disdain she dreads. Your pretended triumph, +therefore, may originate in causes which, so far from being glorious +for you, would humiliate you if you were aware of them. + +We see, for example, a lover who may be repelled; the woman who loves +him fears he will escape her to pay his addresses to another woman +more accommodating; she does not wish to lose him, for it is always +humiliating to be abandoned; she yields, because she is not aware of +any other means of holding him. They say there is nothing to reproach +in this. If he leaves her after that, at least he will be put in the +wrong, for, since a woman becomes attached more by the favors she +grants, she imagines the man will be forced into gratitude. What +folly! + +Women are actuated by different motives in yielding. Curiosity impels +some, they desire to know what love is. Another woman, with few +advantages of person or figure, would hold her lover by the +attractions of pleasure. One woman is determined to make a conquest +flattering to her vanity. Still another one surrenders to pity, +opportunity, importunities, to the pleasure of taking revenge on a +rival, or an unfaithful lover. How can I enumerate them all? The heart +is so very strange in its vagaries, and the reasons and causes which +actuate it are so curious and varied, that it is impossible to +discover all the hidden springs that set it in motion. But if we +delude ourselves as to the means of holding you, how often do men +deceive themselves as to the proofs of our love? If they possessed any +delicacy of discernment, they would find a thousand signs that prove +more than the most signal favor granted. + +Tell me, Marquis, what have I done to Monsieur de Coulanges? It is a +month since he has set foot in my house. But I will not reproach him, +I shall be very pleasant with him when he does come. He is one of the +most amiable men I am acquainted with. I shall be very angry with you +if you fail to bring him to me on my return from Versailles. I want +him to sing me the last couplets he has composed, I am told they are +charming. + + + + +XLVI + +Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice + + +It was too kind of you, Marquis, to have noticed my absence. If I did +not write you during my sojourn in the country, it was because I knew +you were happy, and that tranquilized me. I felt too, that it was +necessary for love to be accorded some rights, as its reign is usually +very short, and besides that, friendship not having any quarrel with +love, I waited patiently an interval in your pleasure which would +enable you to read my letters. + +Do you know what I was doing while away? I amused myself by piecing +out all the events liable to happen in the condition your society is +now in. I foresaw the bickerings between the Countess and her rival, +and I predicted they would end in an open rupture; I also guessed that +the Marquise would not espouse the cause of the Countess, but would +take up the other's quarrel. The moneyed woman is not quite so +handsome as her rival, a decisive reason for declaring for her and +backing her up without danger. + +What will be the upshot of all this quarreling among these women? How +many revolutions, Good Heavens! in so short a time! Your happiness +seems to be the only thing that has escaped. You discover new reasons +every day for loving and esteeming this amiable Countess. You believe +that a woman of so much real merit, and with so interesting a figure, +will become known more and more. Let nothing weaken the esteem you +have always had for her. You have, it is true, obtained an avowal of +her love for you, but is she less estimable for that? On the contrary, +ought not her heart to augment in price in your eyes, in proportion to +the certainty you have acquired that you are its sole possessor? Even +if you shall have obtained proofs of her inclination we spoke about +recently, do you think that gives you any right to underrate her? + +I can not avoid saying it; men like you arouse my indignation every +time they imagine they claim the right to lack in courtesy for my sex, +and punish us for our weaknesses. Is it not the height of injustice +and the depth of depravity to continue to insult the grief which is +the cause of their changes? Can not women be inconstant without being +unjust? Is their distaste always to be followed by some injurious act? +If we are guilty, is it the right of him who has profited by our +faults, who is the cause of them, to punish us? + +Always maintain for the Countess the sentiments you have expressed in +her regard. Do not permit a false opinion to interfere with the +progress which they can still make in your heart. It is not our defeat +alone which should render us despicable in your eyes. The manner in +which we have been defended, delivered, and guarded, ought to be the +only measure of your disdain. + +So Madame de La Fayette is of the opinion that my last letter is based +upon rather a liberal foundation? You see where your indiscretions +lead me. But she does not consider that I am no more guilty than a +demonstrator of anatomy. I analyse the metaphysical man as he dissects +the physical one. Do you believe that out of regard to scruples he +should omit in his operations those portions of his subject which +might offer corrupted minds occasions to draw sallies out of an ill +regulated imagination? It is not the essence of things that causes +indecency; it is not the words, or even the ideas, it is the intent of +him who utters them, and the depravity of him who listens. Madame de +La Fayette was certainly the last woman in the world whom I would have +suspected of reproaching me in that manner, and to-morrow, at the +Countess', I will make her confess her injustice. + + + + +XLVII + +Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals + + +What, I, Marquis, astonished at the new bickerings of your moneyed +woman? Do not doubt for an instant that she employs all the +refinements of coquetry to take you away from the Countess. She may +have a liking for you, but moderate your amour propre so far as that +is concerned, for the most powerful motive of her conduct, is, without +contradiction, the desire for revenge. Her vanity is interested in +punishing her rival for having obtained the preference. + +Women never pardon such a thing as that, and if he who becomes the +subject of the quarrel is not the first object of their anger, it is +because they need him to display their resentment. You have +encountered in the rival of the Countess precisely what you exacted +from her to strengthen your attachment. You are offered in advance the +price of the attentions you devote to her, and from which you will +soon be dispensed, and I think you will have so little delicacy as to +accept them. It is written across the heart of every man: "To the +easiest." + +You should blush to deserve the least reproach from the Countess. What +sort of a woman is it you seem to prefer to her? A woman without +delicacy and without love; a woman who is guided only by the +attractions of pleasure; more vain than sensible; more voluptuous than +tender; more passionate than affectionate, she seeks, she cherishes in +you nothing but your youth and all the advantages that accompany it. + +You know what her rival is worth; you know all your wrong doing with +her; you agree that you are a monster of ingratitude, yet, you are +unwilling to take it upon yourself to merit her pardon. Truly, +Marquis, I do not understand you. I am beginning to believe that +Madame de Sevigne was right when she said that her son knew his duty +very well, and could reason like a philosopher on the subject, but +that he was carried away by his passions, so that "he is not a head +fool, but a heart fool" (ce n'est pas par la tete qu'il est fou, mais +par le coeur). + +You recall in vain what I said to you long ago about making love in a +free and easy manner. You will remember that I was then enjoying +myself with some jocular reflections which were not intended to be +formal advice. Do not forget, either, that the question then was about +a mere passing fancy, and not of an ordinary mistress. But the case +to-day is very different, you can not find among all the women of +Paris, a single one who can be compared with her you are so cruelly +abandoning. And for what reason? Because her resistance wounds your +vanity. What resource is left us to hold you? + +I agree with you, nevertheless, that when a passion is extinguished it +can not be relighted without difficulty. No one is more the master of +loving than he is of not loving. I feel the truth of all these maxims; +I do homage to them with regret, as soon as, with a knowledge of the +cause, I consider that you reject what is excellent and accept the +worse; you renounce a solid happiness, durable pleasures, and yield to +depraved tastes and pure caprices; but I can see that all my +reflections will not reform you. I am beginning to fear that I am +wearying you with morals, and to tell you the truth, it is very +ridiculous in me to preach constancy when it is certain that you do +not love, and that you are a heart fool. + +I therefore abandon you to your destiny, without, however, giving up +my desire to follow you into new follies. Why: should I be afflicted? +Would it be of any moment to assume with you the tone of a pedagogue? +Assuredly not, both of us would lose too much thereby. I should become +weary and you would not be reformed. + + + + +XLVIII + +Friendship Must Be Firm + + +I do not conceal it, Marquis, your conduct in regard to the Countess +had put me out of patience with you, and I was tempted to break off +all my relations with so wicked a man as you. My good nature in +yielding to your entreaties inclines me to the belief that my +friendship for you borders on a weakness. You are right, though. To be +your friend only so long as you follow my advice would not be true +friendship. The more you are to be censured the stronger ought to be +my hold on you, but you will understand that one is not master of his +first thoughts. Whatever effort I may make to find you less guilty, +the sympathy I have for the misfortune of my friend is of still +greater importance to me. There were moments when I could not believe +in your innocence, and they were when so charming a woman complained +of you. Now that her situation is improving every day, I consider my +harshness in my last letter almost as a crime. + +I shall, hereafter, content myself with pitying her without +importuning you any longer about her. So let us resume our ordinary +gait, if it please you. You need no longer fear my reproaches, I see +they would be useless as well as out of place. + + + + +XLIX + +Constancy Is a Virtue Among the Narrow Minded + + +You did not then know, Marquis, that it is often more difficult to get +rid of a mistress than to acquire one? You are learning by experience. +Your disgust for the moneyed woman does not surprise me except that it +did not happen sooner. + +What! knowing her character so well, you could imagine that the +despair she pretended at the sight of your indifference increasing +every day, could be the effect of a veritable passion? You could also +be the dupe of her management! I admire, and I pity your blindness. + +But was it not also vanity which aided a trifle in fortifying your +illusion? In truth it would be a strange sort of vanity, that of being +loved by such a woman; but men are so vain, that they are flattered by +the love of the most confirmed courtesan. In any case undeceive +yourself. A woman who is deserted, when she is a woman like your +beauty, has nothing in view in her sorrow but her own interest. She +endeavors by her tears and her despair, to persuade you that your +person and your merit are all she regrets; that the loss of your heart +is the summit of misfortune; that she knows nobody who can indemnify +her for the loss of it. All these sentiments are false. It is not an +afflicted lover who speaks; it is a vain woman, desperate at being +anticipated, exasperated at the lack of power in her charms, worrying +over a plan to replace you promptly, anxious to give herself an +appearance of sensibility, and to appear worthy of a better fate. She +justifies this thought of Monsieur de la Rochefoucauld: "Women do not +shed tears over the lovers they have had, so much because they loved +them, as to appear more worthy of being loved." It is for D---- to +enjoy the sentiment. + +She must indeed, have a very singular idea of you to hope that she can +impose upon you. Do you wish to know what she is? The Chevalier is +actually without an affair of the heart on hand, engage him to take +your place. I have not received two letters from you that do not speak +of the facility with which she will be consoled for having lost you. A +woman of her age begins to fear that she will not recover what she has +lost, and so she is obliged to degrade her charms by taking the first +new comer. Perhaps her sorrow is true, but she deceives you as to the +motives she gives for it. Break these chains without scruple. In +priding yourself on your constancy and delicacy for such an object, +you appear to me to be as ridiculous as you were when you lacked the +same qualities on another occasion. + +Do you remember, Marquis, what Monsieur de Coulanges said to us one +day? "Constancy is the virtue of people of limited merit. Have they +profited by the caprice of an amiable woman to establish themselves in +her heart? the sentiment of medicrioty fixes them there, it +intimidates them, they dare not make an effort to please others. Too +happy at having surprised her heart, they are afraid of abandoning a +good which they may not find elsewhere, and, as an instant's attention +to their little worth might undeceive this woman, what do they then +do? They elevate constancy up among the virtues; they transform love +into a superstition; they know how to interest reason in the +preservation of a heart which they owe only to caprice, occasion, or +surprise." Be on your guard against imitating these shallow +personages. Hearts are the money of gallantry; amiable people are the +assets of society, whose destiny is to circulate in it and make many +happy. A constant man is therefore as guilty as a miser who impedes +the circulation in commerce. He possesses a treasure which he does not +utilize, and of which there are so many who would make good use of it. + +What sort of a mistress is that who is retained by force of reason? +What languor reigns in her society, what violence must one not employ +to say there is love when it has ceased to exist? It is seldom that +passion ceases in both parties at the same time, and then constancy is +a veritable tyrant; I compare it to the tyrant of antiquity who put +people to death by tying them to dead bodies. Constancy condemns us to +the same punishment. Discard such a baleful precedent to the liberty +of association. + +Believe me, follow your tastes, for the court lady you mentioned; she +may weary you at times, it is true, but at least she will not degrade +you. If, as you say, she is as little intelligent as she is beautiful, +her reign will soon be over. Your place in her heart will soon be +vacant, and I do not doubt that another or even several other +gallantries will follow yours. Perhaps you will not wait for the end, +for I see by your letter that you are becoming a man of fashion. The +new system you have adopted makes it certain, nothing can be better +arranged. Never finish one affair without having commenced another; +never withdraw from the first except in proportion as the second one +progresses. Nothing can be better, but in spite of such wise +precautions, you may find yourself destitute of any, as, for example, +some event beyond the reach of human foresight may interfere with +these arrangements, may have for principle always to finish with all +the mistresses at once, before enabling you to find any one to keep +you busy during the interregnum. I feel free to confess, Marquis, that +such an arrangement is as prudent as can be imagined, and I do not +doubt that you will be well pleased with a plan so wisely conceived. +Adieu. + +I do not know where I obtain the courage to write you such long and +foolish letters. I find a secret charm in entertaining you, which I +should suspect if I did not know my heart so well. I have been +reflecting that it is now without any affair, and I must henceforth be +on my guard against you, for you have very often thought proper to say +very tender things to me, and I might think proper to believe in their +sincerity. + + + + +L + +Some Women Are Very Cunning + + +You may derive as much amusement out of it as you wish, Marquis, but I +shall continue to tell you that you are not fascinated by Madame la +Presidente. Believe me when I say that I see more clearly into your +affairs than you do yourself. I have known a hundred good men who, +like you, pretended with the best faith in the world that they were +amorous, but who, in truth were not in any manner whatsoever. + +There are maladies of the heart as well as maladies of the body; some +are real and some are imaginary. Not everything that attracts you +toward a woman is love. The habit of being together, the convenience +of seeing each other, to get away from one's self, the necessity for a +little gallantry, the desire to please, in a word, a thousand other +reasons which do not resemble a passion in the least; these are what +you generally take to be love, and the women are the first to fortify +this error. Always flattered by the homage rendered them, provided +their vanity profits by it, they rarely inquire into the motives to +which they owe it. But, after all, are they not right? They would +nearly always lose by it. + +To all the motives of which I have just spoken, you can add still +another, quite as capable of creating an illusion in the nature of +your sentiments. Madame la Presidente is, without contradiction, the +most beautiful woman of our time; she is newly married; she refused +the homage of the most amiable man of our acquaintance. Perhaps +nothing could be more flattering to your vanity than to make a +conquest which would not fail to give you the kind of celebrity to +which you aspire. That, my dear Marquis, is what you call love, and it +will be difficult for you to disabuse yourself of the impression, for +by force of persuading yourself that it is love, you will, in a short +time firmly believe that the inclination is real. It will be a very +singular thing some day, to see with what dignity you will speak of +your pretended sentiments; with what good faith you will believe that +they deserve recognition, and, what will be still more agreeable, will +be the deference you will believe should be their due. But +unfortunately, the result will undeceive you, and you will then be the +first to laugh at the importance with which you treated so silly an +affair. + +Shall I tell you how far injustice reaches? I am fully persuaded that +you will not become more amorous. Henceforth, you will have nothing +but a passing taste, frivolous relations, engagements, caprices; all +the arrows of love will glance from you. It is true you will not +experience its pangs, but will you enjoy, in the least, its sweetness? +Can you hope ever to recover from the fantasies to which you surrender +yourself, those moments of delight which were formerly your supreme +felicity? I have no desire to flatter you, but I believe it my duty to +do you this much justice: Your heart is intended for refined +pleasures. It is not I who hold you responsible for the dissipation in +which you are plunged, it is the young fools around you. They call +enjoyment the abuse they make of pleasure; their example carries you +away. But this intoxication will be dissipated sooner or later, and +you will soon, see, at least I hope so, that you have been deceived in +two ways in the state of your heart. You thought it was fascinated by +Madame la Presidente, you will recognize your mistake; you thought she +had ceased to have an inclination for--but I hold to the words I have +uttered. Perhaps there will come a time when I shall be at liberty to +express my thoughts more freely. Now, I reply to the remainder of your +letter. + +Confess it, Marquis, that you had little else to do this morning when +you re-read my letters. I add that you must have been in a bad humor +to undertake their criticism. Some brilliant engagement, some +flattering rendezvous was wanting. But I do not care to elude the +difficulty. So I seem to contradict myself sometimes? If I were to +admit that it might very well be; if I were to give you the same +answer that Monsieur de la Bruyere gave his critics the other day: "It +is not I who contradict myself, it is the heart upon which I reason," +could you reasonably conclude from it that everything I have said to +you is false? I do not believe it. + +But how do I know, in effect, if, led away by the various situations +in which you were placed, I may not have appeared to destroy what I +had advanced on different occasions? How do I know, if, seeing you +ready to yield to a whim, I may not have carried too far, truths, +which, feebly uttered, would not, perhaps, have brought you back? How +do I know, in a word, if, being interested in the happiness of a +friend, the desire to serve her may not have sometimes diminished my +sincerity? I think I am very good natured to reply seriously to the +worries you have caused me. Ought I not first to take cognizance of +the fact that there is more malice in your letter than criticism? This +will be the last time you will have an opportunity to abuse my +simplicity. I am going to console myself for your perfidy with some +one who is assuredly not so wicked as you. + +What a pity it is that you are not a woman! It would give me so much +pleasure to discuss the new coiffures with you! I never saw anything +so extravagant as their height. At least, Marquis, remember that if +Madame la Presidente does not wear one of them incessantly, you can no +longer remain attached to her with decency. + + + + +LI + +The Parts Men and Women Play + + +So the affair has been decided! Whatever I may say of it, you are the +master of Madame la Presidente; a beloved rival has been sacrificed +for you and you triumph. + +How prompt your vanity is to make profit out of everything. I would +laugh heartily if your pretended triumph should end by your receiving +notice to quit some fine morning. For it may well be that this +sacrifice of which you boast so much is nothing but a stratagem. + +Ever since you have been associated with women, have you not +established as a principle that you must be on your guard against the +sentiments they affect? If your beauty had accepted you merely for the +purpose of re-awakening a languishing love in the heart of her +Celadon; if you were only the instrument of jealousy on the part of +one and artifice on the other, would that be a miracle? + +You say that Madame la Presidente is not very shrewd, and consequently +incapable of such a ruse. My dear Marquis, love is a great tutor, and +the most stupid women (in other respects) have often an acute +discernment, more accurate and more certain than any other, when it +comes to an affair of the heart. But let us leave this particular +thesis, and examine men in general who are in the same situation as +you. + +They all believe as you do, that the sacrifice of a rival supposes +some superiority over him. But how often does it happen that this same +sacrifice is only a by play? If it is sincere, the woman either loved +the rival or she did not. If she loved him, then as soon as she leaves +him, it is a sure proof that she loves him no longer, in which case +what glory is there for you in such a preference? If she did not love +him, what can you infer to your advantage from a pretended victory +over a man who was indifferent to her? + +There is also another case where you may be preferred, without that +preference being any more flattering. It is when the vanity of the +woman you attack is stronger than her inclination for the disgraced +lover. Your rank, your figure, your reputation, your fortune, may +determine her in your favor. It is very rare (I say it to the shame of +women, and men are no less ridiculous in that respect), it is rare, I +repeat, that a lover, who has nothing but noble sentiments to offer, +can long hold his own against a man distinguished for his rank, or his +position, who has servants, a livery, an equipage, etc. When the most +tender lover makes a woman blush for his appearance, when she dare not +acknowledge him as her conqueror, when she does not even consider him +as an object she can sacrifice with eclat, I predict that his reign +will be short. Her reasons for getting rid of him will be to her an +embarrassment of choice. Thus the defunct of la Presidente was a +counsellor of state, without doubt as dull and as stiff as his wig. +What a figure to set up against a courtier, against a warrior like +you? + +Well, will you believe in my predictions another time? What did I tell +you? Did the Chevalier find it difficult to persuade your Penelope? +This desolate woman, ready to break her heart, gave you a successor in +less than fifteen days, loves him, proves it, and is flouted. Is this +losing too much time? What is your opinion? + + + + +LII + +Love Is a Traitor With Sharp Claws + + +Yes, indeed, Marquis, it is due to my friendship, it is due to my +counsel that the Countess owes the tranquillity she begins to enjoy, +and I can not conceive the chagrin which causes the indifference she +manifests for you. I am very far, however, from desiring to complain +of you; your grief springs from a wounded vanity. + +Men are very unjust, they expect a woman always to consider them as +objects interesting to them, while they, in abandoning a woman, do not +ordinarily omit anything that will express their disdain. Of what +importance to you is the hatred or love of a person whom you do not +love? Tell me that. Your jealousy of the little Duke is so +unreasonable that I burst out laughing when I learned it. Is it not +quite simple, altogether natural that a woman should console herself +for your loss, by listening to a man who knows the value of her heart +better than you? By what right, if you please, do you venture to take +exceptions to it? You must admit that Madame de Sevigne was right: You +have a foolish heart, my poor Marquis. + +In spite of all that, the part you wish me to play in the matter +appears to me to be exceedingly agreeable. I can understand how nice +it would be to aid you in your plan of vengeance against an +unfaithful woman. Though it should be only through rancor or the +oddity of the thing, we must love each other. But all such comedies +turn out badly generally. Love is a traitor who scratches us when we +play with him. + +So, Marquis, keep your heart, I am very scrupulous about interfering +with so precious an association. Moreover, I am so disgusted with the +staleness of men, that henceforth I desire them only as friends. There +is always a bone to pick with a lover. I am beginning to understand +the value of rest, and I wish to enjoy it. I will return to this, +however. It would be very strange if you take the notion that you need +consolation, and that my situation exacts the same succor because the +Marquis de ---- has departed on his embassy. Undeceive yourself, my +friends suffice me, and, if you wish to remain among their number, at +least do not think of saying any more gallant things to me, +otherwise--Adieu, Marquis. + + + + +LIII + +Old Age Not a Preventive Against Attack + + +Oh, I shall certainly abandon your interests if you persist in talking +to me in such fashion. What demon inspired you with the idea of taking +the place of the absent? Could any one tease another as you did me +last evening? I do not know how you began it, but however much I +desired to be angry with you, it was impossible for me to do so. I do +not know how this will end. What is certain, however, is; it will be +useless for you to go on, for I have decided not to love you, and what +is worse, I shall never love you; yes, sir, never. + +Eh? truly, but this is a strange thing; to attempt to persuade a woman +that she is afflicted, that she needs consolation, when she assures +you that it is not the fact, and that she wants for nothing. This is +driving things with a tight hand. I entreat you, reflect a little on +the folly that has seized upon you. Would it be decent, tell me that, +if I were to take the place of my friend? That a woman who has served +you as a Mentor, who has played the role of mother to you, should +aspire to that of lover? Unprincipled wretch that you are! If you so +promptly abandon a young and lovely woman, what would you do with an +old girl like me? Perhaps you wish to attempt my conquest to see +whether love is for me the same in practice as in theory. Do not go to +the trouble of attempting such a seduction, I will satisfy your +curiosity on that point immediately. + +You know that whatever we are, women seldom follow any given +principles. Well, that is what you would discover in any gallant +association you aspire to form with me. All I have said about women +and love, has not given you any information as to my line of conduct +on such an occasion. There is a vast difference between feeling and +thinking; between talking for one's own account and pleading the cause +of another. You would, therefore, find in me many singularities that +might strike you unfavorably. I do not feel as other women. You might +know them all without knowing Ninon, and believe me, the novelties you +would discover would not compensate you for the trouble you might take +to please me. + +It is useless to exaggerate the value you put upon my conquest, that I +tell you plainly; you are expending too much on hope, I am not able to +respond. Remain where you are in a brilliant career. The court offers +you a thousand beautiful women, with whom you do not risk, as you +would with me, becoming weary of philosophy, of too much intelligence. + +I do not disguise the fact, however, that I would have been glad to +see you to-day. My head was split all the afternoon over a dispute on +the ancients and moderns. I am still out of humor on the subject, and +feel tempted to agree with you that I am not so far along on the +decline of life as to confine myself to science, and especially to the +gentlemen of antiquity. + +If you could only restrain yourself and pay me fewer compliments it is +not to be doubted that I would prefer to have you come and enliven my +serious occupations rather than any one else. But you are such an +unmanageable man, so wicked, that I am afraid to invite you to come +and sup with me to-morrow. I am mistaken, for it is now two hours +after midnight, and I recollect that my letter will not be handed you +before noon. So it is to-day I shall expect you. Have you any fault to +find? It is a formal rendezvous, to be sure, but let the fearlessness +in appointing it be a proof that I am not very much afraid of you, and +that I shall believe in as much of your soft talk as I deem proper. +You understand that it will not be I who can be imposed upon by that. +I know men so well---- + + + + +LIV + +A Shrewd But Not an Unusual Scheme + + +This is not the time, Marquis, to hide from you the true sentiments of +the Countess in your regard. However much I have been able to keep her +secret without betraying her friendship, and I have always done so, if +I conceal from you what I am going to communicate, you may one day +justly reproach me. + +Whatever infidelities you may have been guilty of, whatever care I +have been able to take to persuade her that you have been entirely +forgotten, she has never ceased to love you tenderly. Although she has +sought to punish you by an assumed indifference, she has never thought +of depriving herself of the pleasure of seeing you, and it has been +through the complaisance of the Countess that I have sometimes worried +you; it was to goad you into visiting me more frequently. But all +these schemes have not been able to satisfy a heart so deeply wounded, +and she is on the point of executing a design I have all along been +opposed to. You will learn all about it by reading the letter she +wrote me yesterday, and which I inclose in this. + + + + +FROM THE COUNTESS TO MADEMOISELLE DE L'ENCLOS. + + +"If you wish to remain my friend, my dear Ninon, cease to combat my +resolution; you know it is not the inspiration of the moment. It is +not the fruit of a momentary mortification, an imprudent vexation, nor +despair. I have never concealed it from you. The possession of the +heart of the Marquis de Sevigne might have been my supreme felicity if +I could have flattered myself with having it forever. I was certain of +losing it if I had granted him the favors he exacted of me. His +inconstancy has taught me that a different conduct would not be a sure +means of retaining a lover. I must renounce love forever, since men +are incapable of having a liaison with a woman, as tender, but as pure +as that of simple friendship. + +"You, yourself, well know that I am not sufficiently cured to see the +Marquis without always suffering. Flight is the only remedy for my +malady, and that is what I am about to take. I do not fear, moreover, +what the world may say about my withdrawal to the country. I have +cautioned those who might be surprised. It is known that I have won in +a considerable action against the heirs of my late husband. I have +given out that I am going to take possession of the estate awarded me. +I will thus deprive the public of the satisfaction of misinterpreting +my taste for solitude, and the Marquis of all suspicion that he is in +any manner to blame for it. I inclose his letters and his portrait. + +"Good Heaven! How weak I am! Why should it cost my heart so much to +get rid of an evil so fatal to my repose? But it is done, and my +determination can not be shaken. Pity me, however, and remember, my +dear friend, the promise you gave me to make him understand that I +have for him the most profound indifference. Whoever breaks off +relations with a lover in too public a manner, suggests resentment and +regret at being forced to do so; it is an honest way of saying that +one would ask nothing better than to be appeased. As I have no desire +to resume my relations with the Marquis, return him what I send, but +in the manner agreed upon, and pray him to make a similar restitution. +You may tell him that the management of my property obliges me to +leave Paris for a time, but do not speak of me first. + +"I should be inconsolable at leaving you, my dear Ninon, if I did not +hope that you would visit me in my solitude. You write willingly to +your friends, if you judge them by the tenderness and esteem they have +for you. In that case, you have none more worthy of that title than I. +I rely, therefore, upon your letters until you come to share my +retreat. You know my sentiments for you." + +I have no advice to give you, Marquis, on what you have just read, the +sole favor I expect from you is never to compromise me for the +indiscretion I commit, and that the Countess shall never have any +reason for not forgiving me. All I can say to justify myself in my own +eyes is, that you have loved the Countess too much for her resolution +to be a matter of absolute indifference to you. Had I been just, I +would have betrayed both by leaving you in ignorance of her design. + + + + +LV + +A Happy Ending + + +I am delighted with everything you have done, and you are charming. Do +not doubt it, your behavior, my entreaties, and better than all, love +will overcome the resistance of the Countess. Everything should +conspire to determine her to accept the offer you have made of your +hand. I could even, from this time on, assure you that pride alone +will resist our efforts and her own inclination. + +This morning I pressed her earnestly to decide in your favor. Her last +entrenchment was the fear of new infidelities on your part. + +"Reassure yourself," said I, "in proof that the Marquis will be +faithful to you, is the fact that he has been undeceived about the +other women, by comparing them with her he was leaving. Honest people +permit themselves only a certain number of caprices, and the Marquis +has had those which his age and position in society seemed to justify. +He yielded to them at a time when they were pardonable. He paid +tribute to the fashion by tasting of all the ridiculous things going. +Henceforth, he can be reasonable with impunity. A man can not be +expected to be amorous of his wife, but should he be, it will be +pardoned him as soon as people see you. You risk nothing, therefore, +Countess; you yourself have put on the airs of a society woman, but +you were too sensible not to abandon such a role; you renounced it; +the Marquis imitates you. Wherefore forget his mistakes. Could you +bear the reproach of having caused the death of so amiable a man? It +would be an act that would cry out for vengeance." + +In a word, I besought and pressed her, but she is still irresolute. +Still, I do not doubt that you will finish by overcoming a resistance +which she, herself, already deems very embarrassing. + +Well, Marquis, if the anxiety all this has caused you, gives you the +time to review what I have been saying to you for several days past, +might you not be tempted to believe that I have contradicted myself? +At first I advised you to treat love lightly and to take only so much +of it as might amuse you. You were to be nothing but a gallant, and +have no relations with women except those in which you could easily +break the ties. I then spoke to you in a general way, and relative to +ordinary women. Could I imagine that you would be so fortunate as to +meet a woman like the Countess, who would unite the charms of her sex +to the qualities of honest men? What must be your felicity? You are +going to possess in one and the same person, the most estimable friend +and a most charming mistress. Deign to admit me to share a third +portion of your friendship and my happiness will equal your own. Can +one be happier than in sharing the happiness of friends? + + + + +CORRESPONDENCE + +BETWEEN + +LORD SAINT-EVREMOND + +AND + +NINON DE L'ENCLOS + +WHEN OVER EIGHTY YEARS +OF AGE + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Charles de Saint Denis, Lord of Saint-Evremond, Marshal of France, was +one of the few distinguished Frenchmen, exiled by Louis XIV, whose +distinguished abilities as a warrior and philosopher awarded him a +last resting place in Westminster Abbey. His tomb, surmounted by a +marble bust, is situated in the nave near the cloister, located among +those of Barrow, Chaucer, Spenser, Cowley and other renowned +Englishmen. + +His epitaph, written by the hand of a Briton, is singularly replete +with the most eminent qualities, which the great men of his period +recognized in him, though his life was extraordinarily long and +stormy. He was moreover, a profound admirer of Ninon de l'Enclos +during his long career, and he did much toward shaping her philosophy, +and enabling her to understand the human heart in all its +eccentricities, and how to regulate properly the passion of love. + +During his long exile in England, the two corresponded at times, and +the letters here given are the fragments of a voluminous +correspondence, the greater part of which has been lost. They are to +be found in the untranslated collated works of Saint-Evremond, and are +very curious, inasmuch as they were written when Ninon and +Saint-Evremond were in their "eighties." + +Saint-Evremond always claimed, that his extremely long and vigorous +life was due to the same causes which Ninon de l'Enclos attributed to +her great age, that is, to an unflagging zeal in observing the +doctrines of the Epicurean philosophy. These ideas appear in his +letter to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, written to her under the sobriquet +of "Leontium," and which is translated and appended to this +correspondence. + +As an evidence of Saint-Evremond's unimpaired faculties at a great +age, the charms of his person attracted the attention of the Duchess +of Sandwich, one of the beauties of the English Court, and she became +so enamored of him, that a liaison was the result, which lasted until +the time of Saint-Evremond's death. They were like two young lovers +just beginning their career, instead of a youth over eighty years of +age, and a maiden who had passed forty. Such attachments were not +uncommon among persons who lived calm, philosophical lives, their very +manner of living inspiring tender regard, as was the case of the great +affection of the Marquis de Sevigne, who although quite young, and his +rank an attraction to the great beauties of the Court, nevertheless +aspired to capture the heart of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, who was over +sixty years of age. What Ninon thought about the matter, appears in +her letters on the preceding pages. + + + + +Correspondence Between Lord Saint-Evremond +and Ninon de L'Enclos +When Over Eighty Years +of Age + + + + + +I + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Lovers and Gamblers have Something in Common + + +I have been trying for more than a year to obtain news of you from +everybody, but nobody can give me any. M. de la Bastille tells me that +you are in good health, but adds, that if you have no more lovers, you +are satisfied to have a greater number of friends. + +The falsity of the latter piece of news casts a doubt upon the verity +of the former, because you are born to love as long as you live. +Lovers and gamblers have something in common: Who has loved will love. +If I had been told that you had become devout, I might have believed +it, for that would be to pass from a human passion to the love of God, +and give occupation to the soul. But not to love, is a species of +void, which can not be consistent with your heart. + +Ce repos languissant ne fut jamais un bien; +C'est trouver sans mouvoir l'etat ou l'on n'est rien. + +('Twas never a good this languishing rest; +'Tis to find without search a state far from blest.) + +I want to know about your health, your occupations, your inclinations, +and let it be in a long enough letter, with moralizing and plenty of +affection for your old friend. + +The news here is that the Count de Grammont is dead, and it fills me +with acute sorrow. + +If you know Barbin, ask him why he prints so many things that are not +mine, over my name? I have been guilty of enough folly without +assuming the burden of others. They have made me the author of a +diatribe against Pere Bouhours, which I never even imagined. There is +no writer whom I hold in higher esteem. Our language owes more to him +than to any other author. + +God grant that the rumor of Count de Grammont's death be false, and +that of your health true. The Gazette de Hollande says the Count de +Lauzun is to be married. If this were true he would have been summoned +to Paris, besides, de Lauzun is a Duke, and the name "Count" does not +fit him. + +Adieu. I am the truest of your servants, who would gain much if you +had no more lovers, for I would be the first of your friends despite +an absence which may be called eternal. + + + + +II + + +Ninon de L'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +It is sweet to remember those we have loved + + +I was alone in my chamber, weary of reading, when some one exclaimed: +"Here is a messenger from Saint-Evremond!" You can imagine how quickly +my ennui disappeared--it left me in a moment. + +I have been speaking of you quite recently, and have learned many +things which do not appear in your letters--about your perfect health +and your occupation. The joy in my mind indicates its strength, and +your letter assures me that England promises you forty years more of +life, for I believe that it is only in England that they speak of men +who have passed the fixed period of human life. I had hoped to pass +the rest of my days with you, and if you had possessed the same +desire, you would still be in France. + +It is, however, pleasant to remember those we have loved, and it is, +perhaps, for the embellishment of my epitaph, that this bodily +separation has occurred. + +I could have wished that the young ecclesiastic had found me in the +midst of the glories of Nike, which could not change me, although you +seem to think that I am more tenderly enchanted with him than +philosophy permits. + +Madame the Duchess de Bouillon is like an eighteen-year old: the +source of her charms is in the Mazarin blood. + +Now that our kings are so friendly, ought you not to pay us a visit? +In my opinion it would be the greatest success derived from the peace. + + + + +III + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Wrinkles are a Mark of Wisdom + + +I defy Dulcinea to feel with greater joy the remembrance of her +Chevalier. Your letter was accorded the reception it deserved, and the +sorrowful figure in it did not diminish the merit of its sentiments. I +am very much affected by their strength and perseverance. Nurse them +to the shame of those who presume to judge them. I am of your opinion, +that wrinkles are a mark of wisdom. I am delighted that your surface +virtues do not sadden you, I try to use them in the same way. You have +a friend, a provincial Governor, who owes his fortune to his +amiability. He is the only aged man who is not ridiculed at Court. M. +de Turenne wished to live only to see him grow old, and desired to see +him father of a family, rich and happy. He has told more jokes about +his new dignity than others think. + +M. d'Ebene who gave you the name of "Curictator," has just died at the +hospital. How trivial are the judgments of men! If M. d'Olonne were +alive and could have read your letters to me, he would have continued +to be of your quality with his philosophy. M. de Lauzun is my +neighbor, and will accept your compliments. I send you very tenderly, +those of M. de Charleval, and ask you to remember M. de Ruvigny, his +friend of the Rue des Tournelles. + + + + +IV + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Near Hopes are Worth as much as Those Far Off + + +I sent a reply to your last letter to the correspondent of the Abbe +Dubois, but as he was at Versailles, I fear it has not reached him. + +I should have been anxious about your health without the visit of +Madame de Bouillon's little librarian, who filled my heart with joy by +showing me a letter from one who thinks of me on your account. +Whatever reason I may have had during my illness to praise the world +and my friends, I never felt so lively a joy as at this mark of +kindness. You may act upon this as you feel inclined since it was you +who drew it upon me. + +I pray you to let me know, yourself, whether you have grasped that +happiness one enjoys so much at certain times? The source will never +run dry so long as you shall possess the friendship of the amiable +friend who invigorates your life. (Lady Sandwich.) How I envy those +who go to England, and how I long to dine with you once again! What a +gross desire, that of dinner! + +The spirit has great advantages over the body, though the body +supplies many little repeated pleasures, which solace the soul in its +sorrowful moods. You have often laughed at my mournful reflections, +but I have banished them all. It is useless to harbor them in the +latter days of one's life, and one must be satisfied with the life of +every day as it comes. Near hopes, whatever you, may say against them, +are worth as much as those far off, they are more certain. This is +excellent moralizing. Take good care of your health, it is to that +everything should tend. + + + + +V + +Ninon de L'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +On the Death of de Charleval + + +Now, M. de Charleval is dead, and I am so much affected that I am +trying to console myself by thinking of the share you will take in my +affliction. Up to the time of his death, I saw him every day. His +spirit possessed all the charms of youth, and his heart all the +goodness and tenderness so desirable among true friends. We often +spoke of you and of all the old friends of our time. His life and the +one I am leading now, had much in common, indeed, a similar loss is +like dying one's self. + +Tell me the news about yourself. I am as much interested in your life +in London as if you were here, and old friends possess charms which +are not so well appreciated as when they are separated. + + + + +VI + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +The Weariness of Monotony + + +M. de Clerambault gave me pleasure by telling me that I am in your +thoughts constantly. I am worthy of it on account of the affection I +maintain for you. We shall certainly deserve the encomiums of +posterity by the duration of our lives, and by that of your +friendship. I believe I shall live as long as you, although I am +sometimes weary of always doing the same things, and I envy the Swiss +who casts himself into the river for that reason. My friends often +reprehend me for such a sentiment, and assure me that life is worth +living as long as one lives in peace and tranquillity with a healthy +mind. However, the forces of the body lead to other thoughts, and +those forces are preferred to strength of mind, but everything is +useless when a change is impossible. It is equally as worth while to +drive away sad reflections as to indulge in useless ones. + +Madame Sandwich has given me a thousand pleasures in making me so +happy as to please her. I did not dream, in my declining years to be +agreeable to a woman of her age. She has more spirit than all the +women of France, and more true merit. She is on the point of leaving +us, which is regretted by every one who knows her, by myself, +particularly. Had you been here we should have prepared a banquet +worthy of old times. Love me always. + +Madame de Coulanges accepted the commission to present your kind +compliments to M. le Comte de Grammont, through Madame de Grammont. He +is so young that I believe him fickle enough in time to dislike the +infirm, and that he will love them as soon as they return to good +health. + +Every one who returns from England speaks of the beauty of Madame la +Duchesse de Mazarin, as they allude to the beauty of Mademoiselle de +Bellefond, whose sun is rising. You have attached me to Madame de +Mazarin, and I hear nothing but the good that is said of her. + +Adieu, my friend, why is it not "Good day?" We must not die without +again seeing each other. + + + + +VII + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +After the Death of La Duchesse de Mazarin + + +What a loss for you, my friend! If it were not for the fact that we, +ourselves, will be considered a loss, we could not find consolation. I +sympathize with you with all my heart. You have just lost an amiable +companion who has been your mainstay in a foreign land. What can be +done to make good such a misfortune? Those who live long are subject +to see their friends die, after that, your philosophy, your mind, will +serve to sustain you. + +I feel this death as much as if I had been acquainted with the +Duchess. She thought of me in her last moments, and her goodness +affected me more than I can express; what she was to you drew me to +her. There is no longer a remedy, and there is none for whatever may +happen our poor bodies, so preserve yours. Your friends love to see +you so well and so wise, for I hold those to be wise who know how to +be happy. + +I give you a thousand thanks for the tea you sent me, but the lively +tone of your letter pleased me as much as your present. + +You will again see Madame Sandwich, whom we saw depart with regret. I +could wish that her condition in life might serve to be of some +consolation to you. I am ignorant of English customs, but she was +quite French while here. + +A thousand adieux, my friend. If one could think as did Madame de +Chevreuse, who believed when dying that she was going to converse with +all her friends in the other world! It would be a sweet thought. + + + + +VIII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Love Banishes Old Age + + +Your life, my well beloved, has been too illustrious not to be lived +in the same manner until the end. Do not permit M. de la +Rochefoucauld's "hell" to frighten you; it was a devised hell he +desired to construct into a maxim. Pronounce the word "love" boldly, +and that of "old age" will never pass your lips. + +There is so much spirit in your letters, that you do not leave me even +to imagine a decline of life in you. What ingratitude to be ashamed to +mention love, to which we owe all our merit, all our pleasures! For, +my lovely keeper of the casket, the reputation of your probity is +established particularly upon the fact that you have resisted lovers, +who would willingly have made free with the money of their friends. + +Confess all your passions to make your virtues of greater worth; +however, you do not expose but the one-half of your character; there +is nothing better than what regards your friends, nothing more +unsatisfactory than what you have bestowed upon your lovers. + +In a few verses, I will draw your entire character. Here they are, +giving you the qualities you now have and those you have had: + + Dans vos amours on vous trouvait legere, + En amitie toujours sure et sincere; + Pour vos amants, les humeurs de Venus, + Pour vos amis les solides vertus: + Quand les premiers vous nommaient infidele, + Et qu'asservis encore a votre loi, + Ils reprochaient une flamme nouvelle, +Les autres se louaient de votre bonne foi. + Tantot c'etait le naturel d'Helene, + Ses appetits comme tous ses appas; + Tantot c'etait la probite romaine? +C'etait d'honneur la regle et le compas. + Dans un couvent en soeur depositaire, + Vous auriez bien menage quelque affaire, + Et dans le monde a garder les depots, +On vous eut justement preferee aux devots. + + (In your love affairs you were never severe, + But your friendship was always sure and sincere; + The humors of Venus for those who desired, + For your friends, in your heart, solid virtues conspired; +When the first, infidelity laid at your door, + Though not yet exempt from the law of your will, + And every new flame never failed to deplore, +The others rejoiced that you trusted them still. + Ingenuous Helen was sometimes your role, + With her appetites, charms, and all else beside; + Sometimes Roman probity wielded your soul, + In honor becoming your rule and your guide. + And though in a convent as guardian nun, +You might have well managed some sprightly fun, + In the world, as a keeper of treasures untold, +Preferred you would be to a lamb of the fold.) + +Here is a little variety, which I trust will not surprise you: + +L'indulgente et sage Nature +A forme l'ame de Ninon +De la volupte d'Epicure +Et de la vertu de Caton. + + + + +IX + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Stomachs Demand More Attention than Minds + + +The Abbe Dubois has just handed me your letter, and personally told me +as much good news about your stomach as about your mind. There are +times when we give more attention to our stomachs than to our minds, +and I confess, to my sorrow, that I find you happier in the enjoyment +of the one than of the other. I have always believed that your mind +would last as long as yourself, but we are not so sure of the health +of the body, without which nothing is left but sorrowful reflections. +I insensibly begin making them on all occasions. + +Here is another chapter. It relates to a handsome youth, whose desire +to see honest people in the different countries of the world, induced +him to surreptitiously abandon an opulent home. Perhaps you will +censure his curiosity, but the thing is done. He knows many things, +but he is ignorant of others, which one of his age should ignore. I +deemed him worthy of paying you a visit, to make him begin to feel +that he has not lost his time by journeying to England. Treat him well +for love of me. + +I begged his elder brother, who is my particular friend, to obtain +news of Madame la Duchesse Mazarin and of Madame Harvey, both of whom +wished to remember me. + + + + +X + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Why does Love Diminish After Marriage? + + +Translator's Note.--Two of Ninon's friends whom she idolized, were +very much surprised to discover after their marriage, that the great +passion they felt for each other before marriage, became feebler every +day, and that even their affection was growing colder. It troubled +them, and in their anxiety, they consulted Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, +begging her to find some reason in her philosophy, why the possession +of the object loved should weaken the strength of ante-nuptial +passion, and even destroy the most ardent affection. + +The question was discussed by Ninon and her "Birds" for several days +without reaching an opinion that was in any manner satisfactory. It +was therefore resolved to consult Saint-Evremond, who was living in +exile in England. After writing him all the particulars, and the +discussions that had been held with opinions pro and con, he sent the +following letter in reply, which is unanswerable upon the subject. +Moreover, it contains lessons that should be carefully studied and +well learned by all loving hearts, who desire to maintain their early +affection for each other during life. + +The letter is a masterpiece of the philosophy of love, and it is +remarkable, in that it develops traits in human nature upon the +subject of love and marriage, which are overlooked in questions +applicable to the relations between the sexes, and that are so often +strained to the breaking point. Indeed, it gives clues to a remedy +which can not fail to effect a cure. + + * * * * * + +My opinion is exactly in line with yours, Mademoiselle; it is not +always, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved object +which of itself destroys love; the true source of the dissatisfaction +that follows exists in the unintelligent manner of economizing the +sentiments, a too complete, too easy, and too prolonged possession. + +When we have yielded to the transports of a passion without reserve, +the tremendous shock to the soul can not fail quickly to leave it in a +profound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms and +chills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calm +which follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equal +and more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. +Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desire +anything. You will find that your desires are nothing but curiosity, +and this curiosity, which is one of the forces of the heart, +satisfied, our desires vanish. Whoever, therefore, would hold a spouse +or a lover should leave him something to be desired; something new +should be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, +procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I will +vouch for his perseverance in fidelity. + +I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat," is, in +an ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon the +lover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the cooling +of the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is due +to her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expended +in a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination she +had excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of her +lover, she becomes always the same statue; no variety to be hoped for, +and her lover knows it well. + +But in the woman I have in mind, it is the aurora of a lovelier day; +it is the beginning of the most satisfying pleasures. I, understand by +effusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, +those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us the +certainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all the +esteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch when +a man of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which have +always been hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires brings into +play all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; her +heart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far from +leading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. + +But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able to +control her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough +(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love with +prudence, with restraint, and modesty is, for that reason, the most +ingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to the +impetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in the +object loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That is +not love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover into +a spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve and +economy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, the +heart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. +If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will be +nothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive in +a lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, will +experience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity of +separating. + +To sum up: There is more intelligence required to love than is +generally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of the +fatal "yes" or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a woman +does not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, +desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches the +summit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care to +retain him, as he exhibited to overcome her; the desire to keep him +should render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to a +high position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficient +to make a man amorous; to render him constant, something more is +necessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal of +intelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and inequality. +Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become too +tender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good if +they were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. I +maintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving the +heart something to wish for, and the time to consider. + +I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is always +the fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling the +time when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by their +side. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still in +their power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which is +so dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they will +not be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shall +become more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing new +difficulties, arouse our anxieties, in fine, force us to desire new +proofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes the value +in our estimation. They will then find less cause of complaint in us, +and will be better satisfied with themselves. + +Shall I frankly avow it? Things would indeed change if women would +remember at the right time, that their role is always that of the +party to be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors; +that, created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in an +excess of passion, they should guard against surrendering at +discretion; the lover should always have something to ask, and +consequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favors +without limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, +revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on the +same level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat are +indistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority; +but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing more to do +than to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper, and +faithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be the +foundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; but +these qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offset +by a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bring +on languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constituted +heart. + +Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoying +prosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so much +pleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identically +erroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, the +other fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessary +consequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglects +to be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by the +practice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, and +hence-forward no more spicy seasoning in their relations, no more of +those trifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction by +forestalling it. + +But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated by +occasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretend +lovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I only +desire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings should +emanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by a +species of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her; +that by an excessive sensitiveness she does not convert her love into +a source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of her +existence; that by a scrupulous fidelity she may not render her lover +too sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. + +Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness of +temper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. +Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts of +their spouses or their lovers, by too many indulgences and facilities. +What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificing +everything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. +So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soon +become accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as a +favor. + +You see women every day (even among those we despise with so much +reason) who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who are +attached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, +these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I am +persuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would never +think of following such an example. That military manner is repugnant +to gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes the +charm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable woman +soften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what is +necessary to hold a lover. + +We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we often +demand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in the +bottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us that +the governing hand bears down upon us sometimes for very good reasons, +and we take kindly to it. + +Now, for my last word. In everything relating to the force and energy +of love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope for +happiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as they +can govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their own +inclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromising +it and without abusing it. + + + + +XI + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Few People Resist Age + + +A sprightly mind is dangerous to friendship. Your letter would have +spoiled any one but me. I know your lively and astonishing +imagination, and I have even wanted to remember that Lucian wrote in +praise of the fly, to accustom myself to your style. Would to Heaven +you could think of me what you write, I should dispense with the rest +of the world; so it is with you that glory dwells. + +Your last letter is a masterpiece. It has been the subject of all the +talks we have had in my chamber for the past month. You are +rejuvenating; you do well to love. Philosophy agrees well with +spiritual charms. It is not enough to be wise, one must please, and I +perceive that you will always please as long as you think as you do. + +Few people resist age, but I believe I am not yet overcome by it. I +could wish with you, that Madame Mazarin had looked upon life from her +own viewpoint, without thinking of her beauty, which would always have +been agreeable when common sense held the place of less brilliancy. +Madame Sandwich will preserve her mental force after losing her +youth, at least I think so. + +Adieu, my friend. When you see Madame Sandwich, remember me to her, I +should be very sorry to have her forget me. + + + + +XII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Age Has Some Consolations + + +It gives me a lively pleasure to see young people, handsome and +expanding like flowers; fit to please, and able to sincerely affect an +old heart like mine. As there has always been a strong similarity +between your tastes, your inclinations, your sentiments, and mine, I +think you will be pleased to receive a young Chevalier who is +attractive to all our ladies. He is the Duke of Saint Albans, whom I +have begged to pay you a visit, as much in his own interests as in +yours. + +Is there any one of your friends like de Tallard, imbued with the +spirit of our age, to whom I can be of any service? If so, command me. +Give me some news of our old friend de Gourville. I presume he is +prosperous in his affairs; if his health is poor I shall be very +sorry. + +Doctor Morelli, my particular friend, accompanies the Countess of +Sandwich, who goes to France for her health. The late Count Rochester, +father of Madame Sandwich, had more spirit than any man in England, +but Madame Sandwich has more than her father. She is generous and +spirituelle, and as amiable as she is generous and spirituelle. These +are a portion of her qualities. But, I have more to say about the +physician than about the invalid. + +Seven cities, as you know, dispute among themselves, the birth place +of Homer; seven great nations are quarrelling over Morelli: India, +Egypt, Arabia, Persia, Turkey, Italy, and Spain. The cold countries, +even the temperate ones, France, England and Germany, make no +pretensions. He is acquainted with every language and speaks the most +of them. His style, elevated, grand and figurative, leads me to +believe that he is of Oriental origin, and that he has absorbed what +he found good among the Europeans. He is passionately fond of music, +wild over poetry, inquisitive about paintings, a connoisseur in +everything--I cannot remember all. He has friends who know +architecture, and though skilled in his own profession, he is an adept +in others. + +I pray you to give him opportunities to become acquainted with all +your illustrious friends. If you make him yours, I shall consider him +fortunate, for you will never be able to make him acquainted with +anybody possessing more merit than yourself. + +It seems to me that Epicurus included in his sovereign good the +remembrance of past things. There is no sovereign good for a +centenarian like me, but there are many consolations, that of thinking +of you, and of all I have heard you say, is one of the greatest. + +I write of many things of no importance to you, because I never think +that I may weary you. It is enough if they please me, it is +impossible at my age, to hope they will please others. My merit +consists in being contented, too happy in being able to write you. + +Remember to save some of M. de Gourville's wine for me. I am lodged +with one of the relatives of M. de L'Hermitage, a very honest man, and +an exile to England on account of his religion. I am very sorry that +the Catholic conscience of France could not suffer him to live in +Paris, and that the delicacy of his own compelled him to abandon his +country. He certainly deserves the approbation of his cousin. + + + + +III + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Some Good Taste Still Exists in France + + +My dear friend, is it possible for you to believe that the sight of a +young man gives me pleasure? Your senses deceive you when it comes to +others. I have forgotten all but my friends. If the name "doctor" had +not reassured me, I should have replied by the Abbe de Hautefeuille, +and your English would never have heard of me. They would have been +told at my door that I was not at home, and I would have received your +letter, which gave me more pleasure than anything else. + +What a fancy to want good wine, and how unfortunate that I can not say +I was successful in getting it! M. de L'Hermitage will tell you as +well as I, that de Gourville never leaves his room, is indifferent to +taste of any kind, is always a good friend, but his friends do not +trespass upon his friendship for fear of worrying him. After that, if, +by any insinuation I can make, and which I do not now foresee, I can +use my knowledge of wine to procure you some, do not doubt that I will +avail myself of it. + +M. de Tallard was one of my former friends, but state affairs place +great men above trifles. I am told that the Abbe Dubois will go to +England with him. He is a slim little man who, I am sure, will please +you. + +I have twenty letters of yours, and they are read with admiration by +our little circle, which is proof that good taste still exists in +France. I am charmed with a country where you do not fear ennui, and +you will be wise if you think of nobody but yourself, not that the +principle is false with you: that you can no longer please others. + +I have written to M. Morelli, and if I find in him the skill you say, +I shall consider him a true physician. + + + + +XIV + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Superiority of the Pleasures of the Stomach + + +I have never read a letter which contained so much common sense as +your last one. You eulogize the stomach so highly, that it would be +shameful to possess an intelligent mind without also having a good +stomach. I am indebted to the Abbe Dubois for having sounded my +praises to you in this respect. + +At eighty-eight years of age, I can eat oysters every morning for +breakfast. I dine well and sup fairly well. The world makes heroes of +men with less merit than mine. + +Qu'on ait plus de bien, de credit, +Plus de vertu, plus de conduite, +Je n'en aurai point de depit, +Qu'un autre me passe en merite +Sur le gout et sur l'appetit, +C'est l'avantage qui m'irrite. +L'estomac est le plus grand bien, +Sans lui les autres ne sont rien. +Un grand coeur veut tout entreprendre, +Un grand esprit veut tout comprendre; +Les droits de l'estomac sont de bien digerer; +Et dans les sentiments que me donne mon age, +La beaute de l'esprit, la grandeur du courage, +N'ont rien qu'a se vertu l'on puisse comparer. + +(Let others more riches and fame, +More virtue and morals possess, +'Twill kindle no envious flame; +But to make my merit seem less +In taste, appetite, is, I claim, +An outrageous thing to profess. +The stomach's the greatest of things, +All else to us nothing brings. +A great heart would all undertake, +A great soul investigate, +But the law of the stomach is good things to digest, +And the glories which are at my age the delight, +True beauty of mind, of courage the height, +Are nothing unless by its virtue they're blest.) + +When I was young I admired intellect more than anything else, and was +less considerate of the interests of the body than I should have been; +to-day, I am remedying the error I then held, as much as possible, +either by the use I am making of it, or by the esteem and friendship I +have for it. + +You were of the same opinion. The body was something in your youth, +now you are wholly concerned with the pleasures of the mind. I do not +know whether you are right in placing so high an estimate upon it. We +read little that is worth remembering, and we hear little advice that +is worth following. However degenerate may be the senses of the age at +which I am living, the impressions which agreeable objects make upon +them appear to me to be so much more acute, that we are wrong to +mortify them. Perhaps it is a jealousy of the mind which deems the +part played by the senses better than its own. + +M. Bernier, the handsomest philosopher I have ever known (handsome +philosopher is seldom used, but his figure, shape, manner, +conversation and other traits have made him worthy of the epithet), M. +Bernier, I say, in speaking of the senses, said to me one day: + +"I am going to impart a confidence that I would not give Madame de la +Sabliere, even to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whom I regard as a +superior being. I tell you in confidence, that abstinence from +pleasures appears to me to be a great sin." + +I was surprised at the novelty of the idea, and it did not fail to +make an impression upon my mind. Had he extended his idea, he might +have made me a convert to his doctrine. + +Continue your friendship which has never faltered, and which is +something rare in relations that have existed as long as ours. + + + + +XV + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +Let the Heart Speak Its Own Language + + +I learn with pleasure that my soul is dearer to you than my body and +that your common sense is always leading you upward to better things. +The body, in fact, is little worthy of regard, and the soul has always +some light which sustains it, and renders it sensible of the memory of +a friend whose absence has not effaced his image. + +I often tell the old stories in which d'Elbene, de Charleval, and the +Chevalier de Riviere cheer up the "moderns." You are brought in at the +most interesting points, but as you are also a modern, I am on my +guard against praising you too highly in the presence of the +Academicians, who have declared in favor of the "ancients." + +I have been told of a musical prologue, which I would very much like +to hear at the Paris theater. The "Beauty" who is its subject would +strike with envy every woman who should hear it. All our Helens have +no right to find a Homer, and always be goddesses of beauty. Here I am +at the top, how am I to descend? + +My very dear friend, would it not be well to permit the heart to +speak its own language? I assure you, I love you always. Do not change +your ideas on that point, they have always been in my favor, and may +this mental communication, which some philosophers believe to be +supernatural, last forever. + +I have testified to M. Turretin, the joy I should feel to be of some +service to him. He found me among my friends, many of whom deemed him +worthy of the praise you have given him. If he desires to profit by +what is left of our honest Abbes in the absence of the court, he will +be treated like a man you esteem. I read him your letter with +spectacles, of course, but they did me no harm, for I preserved my +gravity all the time. If he is amorous of that merit which is called +here "distinguished," perhaps your wish will be accomplished, for +every day, I meet with this fine phrase as a consolation for my +losses. + +I know that you would like to see La Fontaine in England, he is so +little regarded in Paris, his head is so feeble. 'Tis the destiny of +poets, of which Tasso and Lucretius are evidence. I doubt whether +there is any love philter that could affect La Fontaine, he has never +been a lover of women unless they were able to foot the bills. + + + + +XVI + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +The Memory of Youth + + +I was handed in December, the letter you wrote me October 14. It is +rather old, but good things are always acceptable, however late they +may be in reaching us. You are serious, therefore, you please. You add +a charm to Seneca, who does not usually possess any. You call yourself +old when you possess all the graces, inclinations, and spirit of +youth. + +I am troubled with a curiosity which you can satisfy: When you +remember your past, does not the memory of your youth suggest certain +ideas as far removed from languor and sloth as from the excitement of +passion? Do you not feel in your soul a secret opposition to the +tranquillity which you fancy your spirit has acquired? + +Mais aimer et vous voir aimee +Est une douce liaison, +Que dans notre coeur s'est formee +De concert avec la raison. +D'une amoureuse sympathie, +Il faut pour arreter le cours +Arreter celui de nos jours; +Sa fin est celle de la vie. +Puissent les destins complaisants, +Vous donner encore trente ans +D'amour et de philosophie. + +(To love and be loved +Is a concert sweet, +Which in your heart is formed +Cemented with reason meet. +Of a loving concord, +To stop the course, +Our days must end perforce, +And death be the last record. +May the kind fates give +You thirty years to live, +With wisdom and love in accord.) + +I wish you a happy New Year, a day on which those who have nothing +else to give, make up the deficiency in wishes. + + + + +XVII + +Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond + +"I Should Have Hanged Myself" + + +Your letter filled with useless yearnings of which I thought myself +incapable. "The days are passing," as said the good man of Yveteaux, +"in ignorance and sloth; these days destroy us and take from us the +things to which we are attached." You are cruelly made to prove this. + +You told me long ago that I should die of reflections. I try not to +make any more, and to forget on the morrow the things I live through +today. Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of at one time +than at another. Be that as it may, had I been proposed such a life I +should have hanged myself. We hold on to an ugly body, however, as +something agreeable; we love to feel comfort and ease. Appetite is +something I still enjoy. Would to Heaven I could try my stomach with +yours, and talk of the old friends we have known, the memory of whom +gives me more pleasure than the presence of many people I now meet. +There is something good in all that, but to tell you the truth, there +is no comparison. + +M. de Clerambault often asks me if he resembles his father in mental +attainments. "No," I always answer him, but I hope from his +presumption that he believes this "no" to be of advantage to him, and +perhaps there are some who would have so considered it. What a +comparison between the present epoch and that through which we have +passed! + +You are going to write Madame Sandwich, but I believe she has gone to +the country. She knows all about your sentiment for her. She will tell +you more news about this country than I, having gauged and +comprehended everything. She knows all my haunts and has found means +of making herself perfectly at home. + + + + +XVIII + +Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos + +Life Is Joyous When It Is Without Sorrow + + +The very last letter I receive from Mademoiselle de l'Enclos always +seems to me to be better than the preceding ones. It is not because +the sentiment of present pleasure dims the memory of the past, but the +true reason is, your mind is becoming stronger and more fortified +every day. + +If it were the same with the body as with the mind, I should badly +sustain this stomach combat of which you speak. I wanted to make a +trial of mine against that of Madame Sandwich, at a banquet given by +Lord Jersey. I was not the vanquished. + +Everybody knows the spirit of Madame Sandwich; I see her good taste in +the extraordinary esteem she has for you. I was not overcome by the +praises she showered upon you, any more than I was by my appetite. You +belong to every nation, esteemed alike in London as in Paris. You +belong to every age of the world, and when I say that you are an honor +to mine, youth will immediately name you to give luster to theirs. +There you are, mistress of the present and of the past. May you have +your share of the right to be so considered in the future! I have not +reputation in view, for that is assured to all time, the one thing I +regard as the most essential is life, of which eight days are worth +more than centuries of post mortem glory. + +If any one had formerly proposed to you to live as you are now living, +you would have hanged yourself! (The expression pleases me.) However, +you are satisfied with ease and comfort after having enjoyed the +liveliest emotions. + +L'esprit vous satisfait, ou du moins vous console: +Mais on prefererait de vivre jeune et folle, +Et laisser aux vieillards exempts de passions +La triste gravite de leurs reflexions. + +(Mental joys satisfy you, at least they console, +But a young jolly life we prefer on the whole, +And to old chaps, exempt from passion's sharp stings, +Leave the sad recollections of former good things.) + +Nobody can make more of youth than I, and as I am holding to it by +memory, I am following your example, and fit in with the present as +well as I know how. + +Would to Heaven, Madame Mazarin had been of your opinion! She would +still be living, but she desired to die the beauty of the world. + +Madame Sandwich is leaving for the country, and departs admired in +London as she is in Paris. + +Live, Ninon, life is joyous when it is without sorrow. + +I pray you to forward this note to M. l'Abbe de Hautefeuille, who is +with Madame la Duchesse de Bouillon. I sometimes meet the friends of +M. l'Abbe Dubois, who complain that they are forgotten. Assure him of +my humble regards. + +Translator's Note--The above was the last letter Saint-Evremond ever +wrote Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and with the exception of one more +letter to his friend, Count Magalotti, Councillor of State to His +Royal Highness the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he never wrote any other, +dying shortly afterward at the age of about ninety. His last letter +ends with this peculiar Epicurean thought in poetry: + +Je vis eloigne de la France, +Sans besoins et sans abondance, +Content d'un vulgaire destin; +J'aime la vertu sans rudesse, +J'aime le plaisir sans mollesse, +J'aime la vie, et n'en crains pas la fin. + +(I am living far away from France, +No wants, indeed, no abundance, +Content to dwell in humble sphere; +Virtue I love without roughness, +Pleasures I love without softness, +Life, too, whose end I do not fear.) + + + + +DOCTRINE OF EPICURUS + +EXPLAINED BY + +MARSHAL DE SAINT-EVREMOND + +IN A LETTER TO + +THE MODERN LEONTIUM + +(NINON DE L'ENCLOS) + + + + +TO THE MODERN LEONTIUM + +(NINON DE L'ENCLOS) + + +Being the moral doctrine of the philosopher Epicurus as applicable to +modern times, it is an elucidation of the principles advocated by that +philosopher, by Charles de Saint-Evremond, Marechal of France, a great +philosopher, scholar, poet, warrior, and profound admirer of +Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. He died in exile in England, and his tomb +may be found in Westminster Abbey, in a conspicuous part of the nave, +where his remains were deposited by Englishmen, who regarded him as +illustrious for his virtues, learning and philosophy. + +He gave the name "Leontium" to Mademoiselle de L'Enclos, and the +letter was written to her under that sobriquet. The reasoning in it +will enable the reader to understand the life and character of Ninon, +inasmuch as it was the foundation of her education, and formed her +character during an extraordinarily long career. It was intended to +bring down to its date, the true philosophical principles of Epicurus, +who appears to have been grossly misunderstood and his doctrines +foully misinterpreted. + +Leontium was an Athenian woman who became celebrated for her taste for +philosophy, particularly for that of Epicurus, and for her close +intimacy with the great men of Athens. She lived during the third +century before the Christian era, and her mode of life was similar to +that of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. She added to great personal beauty, +intellectual brilliancy of the highest degree, and dared to write, a +learned treatise against the eloquent Theophrastus, thereby incurring +the dislike of Cicero, the distinguished orator, and Pliny, the +philosopher, the latter intimating that it might be well for her "to +select a tree upon which to hang herself." Pliny and other +philosophers heaped abuse upon her for daring, as a woman, to do such +an unheard of thing as to write a treatise on philosophy, and +particularly for having the assurance to contradict Theophrastus. + + +The Letter. + +You wish to know whether I have fully considered the doctrines of +Epicurus which are attributed to me? + +I can claim the honor of having done so, but I do not care to claim a +merit I do not possess, and which you will say, ingenuously, does not +belong to me. I labor under a great disadvantage on account of the +numerous spurious treatises which are printed in my name, as though I +were the author of them. Some, though well written, I do not claim, +because they are not of my writing, moreover, among the things I have +written, there are many stupidities. I do not care to take the trouble +of repudiating such things, for the reason that at my age, one hour of +well regulated life, is of more interest and benefit to me than a +mediocre reputation. How difficult it is, you see, to rid one's self +of amour propre! I quit it as an author, and reassume it as a +philosopher, feeling a secret pleasure in manipulating what others are +anxious about. + +The word "pleasure" recalls to mind the name of Epicurus, and I +confess, that of all the opinions of the philosophers concerning the +supreme good, there are none which appear to me to be so reasonable as +his. + +It would be useless to urge reasons, a hundred times repeated by the +Epicureans, that the love of pleasure and the extinction of pain, are +the first and most natural inclinations remarked in all men; that +riches, power, honor, and virtue, contribute to our happiness, but +that the enjoyment of pleasure, let us say, voluptuousness, to include +everything in a word, is the veritable aim and end whither tend all +human acts. This is very clear to me, in fact, self-evident, and I am +fully persuaded of its truth. + +However, I do not know very well in what the pleasure, or +voluptuousness of Epicurus consisted, for I never saw so many +different opinions of any one as those of the morals of this +philosopher. Philosophers, and even his own disciples, have condemned +him as sensual and indolent; magistrates have regarded his doctrines +as pernicious to the public; Cicero, so just and so wise in his +opinions, Plutarch, so much esteemed for his fair judgments, were not +favorable to him, and so far as Christianity is concerned, the Fathers +have represented him to be the greatest and the most dangerous of all +impious men. So much for his enemies; now for his partisans: + +Metrodorus, Hermachus, Meneceus, and numerous others, who +philosophize according to his school, have as much veneration as +friendship for him personally. Diogenes Laertes could not have written +his life to better advantage for his reputation. Lucretius adored him. +Seneca, as much of an enemy of the sect as he was, spoke of him in the +highest terms. If some cities held him in horror, others erected +statues in his honor, and if, among the Christians, the Fathers have +condemned him, Gassendi and Bernier approve his principles. + +In view of all these contrary authorities, how can the question be +decided? Shall I say that Epicurus was a corruptor of good morals, on +the faith of a jealous philosopher, of a disgruntled disciple, who +would have been delighted, in his resentment, to go to the length of +inflicting a personal injury? Moreover, had Epicurus intended to +destroy the idea of Providence and the immortality of the soul, is it +not reasonable to suppose that the world would have revolted against +so scandalous a doctrine, and that the life of the philosopher would +have been attacked to discredit his opinions more easily? + +If, therefore, I find it difficult to believe what his enemies and the +envious have published against him, I should also easily credit what +his partisans have urged in his defence. + +I do not believe that Epicurus desired to broach a voluptuousness +harsher than the virtue of the Stoics. Such a jealousy of austerity +would appear to me extraordinary in a voluptuary philosopher, from +whatever point of view that word may be considered. A fine secret +that, to declaim against a virtue which destroys sentiment in a sage, +and establishes one that admits of no operation. + +The sage, according to the Stoics, is a man of insensible virtue; that +of the Epicureans, an immovable voluptuary. The former suffers pain +without having any pain; the latter enjoys voluptuousness without +being voluptuous--a pleasure without pleasure. With what object in +view, could a philosopher who denied the immortality of the soul, +mortify the senses? Why divorce the two parties composed of the same +elements, whose sole advantage is in a concert of union for their +mutual pleasure? I pardon our religious devotees, who diet on herbs, +in the hope that they will obtain an eternal felicity, but that a +philosopher, who knows no other good than that to be found in this +world, that a doctor of voluptuousness should diet on bread and water, +to reach sovereign happiness in this life, is something my +intelligence refuses to contemplate. + +I am surprised that the voluptuousness of such an Epicurean is not +founded upon the idea of death, for, considering the miseries of life, +his sovereign good must be at the end of it. Believe me, if Horace and +Petronius had viewed it as painted, they would never have accepted +Epicurus as their master in the science of pleasure. The piety for the +gods attributed to him, is no less ridiculous than the mortification +of the senses. These slothful gods, of whom there was nothing to be +hoped or feared; these impotent gods who did not deserve the labor and +fatigue attendant upon their worship! + +Let no one say that worshipers went to the temple through fear of +displeasing the magistrates, and of scandalizing the people, for they +would have scandalized them less by refusing to assist in their +worship, than shocked them by writings which destroyed the established +gods, or at least ruined the confidence of the people in their +protection. + +But you ask me: What is your opinion of Epicurus? You believe neither +his friends nor his enemies, neither his adversaries nor his +partisans. What is the judgment you have formed? + +I believe Epicurus was a very wise philosopher, who at times and on +certain occasions loved the pleasure of repose or the pleasure of +movement. From this difference in the grade of voluptuousness has +sprung all the reputation accorded him. Timocrates and his other +opponents, attacked him on account of his sensual pleasures; those who +defended him, did not go beyond his spiritual voluptuousness. When the +former denounced him for the expense he was at in his repasts, I am +persuaded that the accusation was well founded. When the latter +expatiated upon the small quantity of cheese he required to have +better cheer than usual, I believe they did not lack reason. When they +say he philosophized with Leontium, they say well; when they say that +Epicurus diverted himself with her, they do not lie. According to +Solomon, there is a time to laugh and a time to weep; according to +Epicurus, there is a time to be sober and a time to be sensual. To go +still further than that, is a man uniformly voluptuous all his life? + +Religiously speaking, the greatest libertine is sometimes the most +devout; in the study of wisdom, the most indulgent in pleasures +sometimes become the most austere. For my own part, I view Epicurus +from a different standpoint in youth and health, than when old and +infirm. + +Ease and tranquillity, these comforts of the infirm and slothful, can +not be better expressed than in his writings. Sensual voluptuousness +is not less well explained by Cicero. I know that nothing is omitted +either to destroy or elude it, but can conjecture be compared with the +testimony of Cicero, who was intimately acquainted with the Greek +philosophers and their philosophy? It would be better to reject the +inequality of mind as an inconstancy of human nature. + +Where exists the man so uniform of temperament, that he does not +manifest contrarieties in his conversation and actions? Solomon merits +the name of sage, as much as Epicure for less, and he belied himself +equally in his sentiments and conduct. Montaigne, when still young, +believed it necessary to always think of death in order to be always +ready for it. Approaching old age, however, he recanted, so he says, +being willing to permit nature to gently guide him, and teach him how +to die. + +M. Bernier, the great partisan of Epicurus, avows to-day, that "After +philosophizing for fifty years, I doubt things of which I was once +most assured." + +All objects have different phases, and the mind which is in perpetual +motion, views them from different aspects as they revolve before it. +Hence, it may be said, that we see the same thing under different +aspects, thinking at the same time that we have discovered something +new. Moreover, age brings great changes in our inclinations, and with +a change of inclination often comes a change of opinion. Add, that the +pleasures of the senses sometimes give rise to contempt for mental +gratifications as too dry and unproductive and that the delicate and +refined pleasures of the mind, in their turn, scorn the voluptuousness +of the senses as gross. So, no one should be surprised that in so +great a diversity of aspects and movements, Epicurus, who wrote more +than any other philosopher, should have treated the same subjects in a +different manner according as he had perceived them from different +points of view. + +What avails this general reasoning to show that he might have been +sensible to all kinds of pleasure? Let him be considered according to +his relations with the other sex, and nobody will believe that he +spent so much time with Leontium and with Themista for the sole +purpose of philosophizing. But if he loved the enjoyment of +voluptuousness, he conducted himself like a wise man. Indulgent to the +movements of nature, opposed to its struggles, never mistaking +chastity for a virtue, always considering luxury as a vice, he +insisted upon sobriety as an economy of the appetite, and that the +repasts in which one indulged should never injure him who partook. His +motto was: "Sic praesentibus voluptatibus utaris ut futuris non +noceas." + +He disentangled pleasures from the anxieties which precede, and the +disgust which follows them. When he became infirm and suffered pain, +he placed the sovereign good in ease and rest, and wisely, to my +notion, from the condition he was in, for the cessation of pain is the +felicity of those who suffer it. + +As to tranquillity of mind, which constitutes another part of +happiness, it is nothing but a simple exemption from anxiety or worry. +But, whoso can not enjoy agreeable movements is happy in being +guaranteed from the sensations of pain. + +After saying this much, I am of the opinion that ease and tranquillity +constituted the sovereign good for Epicurus when he was infirm and +feeble. For a man who is in a condition to enjoy pleasures, I believe +that health makes itself felt by something more active than ease, or +indolence, as a good disposition of the soul demands something more +animated than will permit a state of tranquillity. We are all living +in the midst of an infinity of good and evil things, with senses +capable of being agreeably affected by the former and injured by the +latter. Without so much philosophy, a little reason will enable us to +enjoy the good as deliciously as possible and accommodate ourselves to +the evil as patiently as we can. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Life, Letters, and Epicurean +Philosophy of Ninon de L'Enclos, the Celebrated Beauty of the +Seventeenth Century, by Robinson [and] Overton, ed. and translation. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINON DE L'ENCLOS *** + +***** This file should be named 10665.txt or 10665.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/6/6/10665/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, Wilelmina Malliere and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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