Dangerous Liaisons

by Choderlos De Laclos

  Special reasons prevent me signing this letter. But I trust that, though you do not know the sender, you will nevertheless do justice to the feelings which have dictated it.

  I have the honour to be, etc.

  Paris, 10 December 17**

  LETTER 168

  Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde

  The most strange and distressing rumours, my dear and worthy friend, are spreading here about Madame de Merteuil. Of course I do not believe them for one moment, and I wager it is simply a terrible slander: but I know only too well how nasty rumours, even the least plausible, may easily acquire credence, and how the impression they leave only fades with difficulty; and so I am alarmed by these, although of course they could easily be disproved. I should particularly wish to put an early stop to them before they can spread any further, but it was not until late last night that I learned of these dreadful things they have just started saying. And when I sent to Madame de Merteuil’s this morning, she had just left for the country where she is to spend the next two days. No one could tell me where she had gone. Her undermaid, whom I had sent for to talk to, told me that her mistress had simply given her orders to expect her next Thursday, and not one of the servants left here knew any more than she did. I myself do not have any idea where she may be. I cannot think of anyone of her acquaintance who remains in the country as late as this.

  Be that as it may, I hope you will be in a position to obtain, between now and when she returns, information which may be useful to her. For these hateful stories are based upon the circumstances of Monsieur de Valmont’s death, of which obviously you will have heard, if they are true; at least it will be easy for you to ascertain the truth of them, and I am asking you if you will kindly do that. This is what people are saying, or rather, what they are whispering, but will most certainly not be slow to proclaim more loudly before long.

  It is said that the quarrel which broke out between Monsieur de Valmont and the Chevalier Danceny is the work of Madame de Merteuil, who was being unfaithful to them both. As is nearly always the case, the two rivals began by fighting and only got to explanations after the event. These produced a sincere reconciliation; and in order to show Madame de Merteuil in her true colours to the Chevalier Danceny and also to clear himself completely, Monsieur de Valmont produced a pile of letters which constituted a regular correspondence he had with her, in which she recounts the most scandalous anecdotes about herself in the most libertine fashion.

  They are also saying that Danceny, in his first indignation, showed these letters to whoever would look at them, and that now it is all over Paris. Two in particular are cited:* one where she tells the whole story of her life and principles, and it is said they are the very worst; the other which puts Monsieur de Prévan, whose story you will recall, entirely in the right, by proving that on the contrary he only yielded to the most obvious advances of Madame de Merteuil, and that the rendez-vous was pre-arranged with her.

  Fortunately I have the strongest reasons to believe that these imputations are as false as they are odious. First we both know that Monsieur de Valmont was certainly not interested in Madame de Merteuil, and I have every reason to believe that Danceny was not either. And so it seems to me self-evident that she could have been neither the subject nor the author of this quarrel. Nor can I see why Madame de Merteuil, who is assumed to have reached an understanding with Monsieur de Prévan, would have an interest in making a scene which could never have anything but disagreeably scandalous consequences, and which might have become extremely dangerous for her, since in that way she was making an irreconcilable enemy of a man who was in possession of some of her secrets, and who had, at that time, plenty of supporters. However, it is noticeable that since this affair not a single voice has been raised in Prévan’s favour, and even from him there has been no protest.

  These considerations lead me to suspect him as the author of the rumours going round today, and to view these slanderous accusations as an act of hatred and revenge by a man who, seeing himself lost, hopes by this means to spread doubts, at least, and perhaps cause a useful diversion. But, whatever the origin of these wicked rumours, the most urgent necessity is to destroy them. They would subside naturally if it so turned out, as is very likely, that Messieurs de Valmont and Danceny did not speak after their unfortunate affair, and there was not any handing over of documents.

  In my impatience to check the facts I sent to Monsieur de Danceny’s this morning. He is not in Paris either. His servants said to my footman that he left last night after receiving a warning yesterday, and that his destination was secret. Apparently he fears the consequences of his duel. Therefore it is only through you, my dear and worthy friend, that I may have the details which interest me, and which may become so necessary to Madame de Merteuil. I beg you again to send them to me as soon as possible.

  P.S. My daughter’s indisposition had no ill effects. She sends you her regards.

  Paris, 11 December 17**

  LETTER 169

  The Chevalier Danceny to Madame de Rosemonde

  Madame,

  Perhaps you will find the action I am taking today very odd. But I beg you to listen before you judge me, and not to take for impertinence nor temerity what is done only out of respect and trust. I do not disguise from myself the wrongs I have done to you, and I should never forgive myself for them as long as I lived if I thought for one moment that it might have been possible to avoid them. Be persuaded, Madame, that though I may be free from blame I am not free from regrets. And I might add in all sincerity that the sorrow I have caused you has a large bearing upon my own. In order to believe these feelings, of which I take the liberty of assuring you, you have only to do justice to yourself and learn that, although I do not have the honour of being known by you, I do have that of knowing you.

  However, while I deplore the fate which has brought about your sorrows and my misfortune at one and the same time, there are those who would have me fear that, with revenge your only aim, you are seeking the means to achieve it, even if you have to have recourse to the severity of the law.

  Allow me first to observe on this point that here you are the victim of your grief, since my interest in the matter is essentially bound up with that of Monsieur de Valmont, and he would find himself embroiled in the disgrace you call down upon me. I should therefore believe, Madame, that I might on the contrary count on you for help rather than hindrance, in the care I may be obliged to take to ensure that this unfortunate affair is consigned to oblivion.

  But such complicity, the resource for both the guilty and the innocent, cannot suffice for a man of my principles. While wishing not to have you as my accuser, I claim you as my judge. The esteem of people one respects is too precious for me to allow yours to be snatched from me without my resisting, and I believe I have the means to do so.

  In fact if you agree that revenge is permissible, or let us rather say a duty, when one has been betrayed in love, in friendship, and especially in trust; if you agree to that, my wrongs will vanish in your eyes. Do not take my word for this, but read, if you have the strength, the correspondence which I am placing in your hands.* The quantity of letters which may be found there in the original would seem to prove the authenticity of those which exist only in copies. For the rest, I received these papers, which I have the honour of sending to you, from Monsieur de Valmont himself. I have not added anything, and have extracted from them only two letters16 that I permitted myself to make public.

  One was necessary to the revenge of both Monsieur de Valmont and myself, to which we had a right, and with which he expressly charged me. I thought moreover that it was doing a service to society to unmask a woman as truly dangerous as Madame de Merteuil, and who as you can see is the single true cause of everything that took place between Monsieur de Valmont and myself.

  My sense of justice has led me to make the second public knowledge for the justification of Monsieur de Prévan, whom I scarcely know, but who has not in any way meri
ted the harsh treatment he has suffered lately nor the severe and even more formidable judgement of the public, under which he has been labouring ever since then without being able to say anything in his defence.

  You will find, then, only copies of these two letters, of which I must keep the originals. As to all the rest, I do not believe I can put in any safer hands papers which I consider should not be destroyed, but which I should be ashamed to make any wrongful use of. I believe, Madame, that in entrusting these papers to you I am doing as great a service to the people concerned as if I were to give the letters directly to them. And I am sparing them the embarrassment of receiving such correspondence from me, and of knowing that I am aware of affairs which they would surely wish not to be made public.

  I believe I should warn you in this regard that the enclosed letters are only one part of a much more voluminous collection, from which they were selected by Monsieur de Valmont in my presence. You will find the remainder, when the seals in the house are removed, under the title Account opened between the Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont. You will do with them whatever you, in your wisdom, decide.

  I am respectfully yours, Madame, etc.

  P.S. After receiving certain warnings and on the advice of friends I have decided to absent myself from Paris for a while. But the place of my retreat, which I have kept secret from everyone else, will not be so from you. If you honour me with a reply, I beg you to address it to the Commanderie de —17 near P—and under cover to Monsieur le Commandeur de —. It is from his house that I have the honour of writing to you.

  Paris, 12 December 17**

  LETTER 170

  Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde

  My dear friend, one shock after another and one sorrow after another. You have to be a mother yourself to have any idea of what I went through the whole of yesterday morning. And if my cruel worries have been calmed since then, I am still sorely distressed and cannot see an end to it.

  Yesterday, towards ten in the morning, surprised not to have yet seen my daughter, I sent my maid to learn what could be making her take so long. She came back straight away much alarmed, and frightened me a deal more by her announcement that my daughter was not in her room, and that her chambermaid had not seen her there all that morning. Imagine what a state I was in! I summoned all my servants and in particular my hall-porter. They all swore they did not know anything about it and could not tell me anything about what had happened. I went to my daughter’s rooms without delay. The untidiness that reigned there told me quickly that she must have left only that morning. But there was no explanation of her behaviour as far as I could see. I looked in her cupboards, her desk. I found everything in its place together with all her clothes, except for the dress she was wearing to go out. She had not even taken the small amount of money she had.

  As she had not heard until yesterday all that people have been saying about Madame de Merteuil, to whom she is very attached, even to the point where all she did was weep the whole evening, and as I remembered too that Madame de Merteuil was in the country, at first I thought she had wanted to see her friend, and had been silly enough to go there on her own. But as time passed and she did not return I became extremely anxious once more. Every moment my worry increased, and though I longed to know where she was I did not dare make enquiries for fear of making my action public knowledge, when I might wish to hide it from people afterwards. Really, I have not suffered so much in my whole life!

  Well, it was not until after two o’clock that I received, at one and the same time, a letter from my daughter and one from the Mother Superior of the convent of —. My daughter’s letter simply said that she feared I might thwart her vocation to become a nun, and she had not dared talk to me about it. The rest was only apologies for having taken this decision without my permission, a decision which I should certainly not disapprove of, she added, if I knew what her motives were. However, she begged me not to ask her about them.

  The Mother Superior told me that when she saw a young woman on her own arrive she had at first refused to take her in. But when she had questioned her and learned who she was she had thought she was doing me a service by giving my daughter temporary asylum, to protect her from doing anything further, which was what she seemed set upon doing. The Mother Superior, while she naturally offers to return my daughter to me, if I ask, has urged me, as her profession requires, not to place any obstacle in the way of a vocation upon which she seems so decided. She tells me as well that she was not able to inform me any sooner of this event because of the trouble she had in making my daughter write to me, for her plan was that everyone should remain in ignorance of where she had gone. Children are so cruel in their thoughtlessness!

  I went to the convent without delay and, after seeing the Mother Superior, I asked to see my daughter. She appeared, but only reluctantly and in fear and trembling. I spoke to her in front of the nuns and I spoke with her alone. All that I got out of her, amid much weeping, was that she could only be happy in the convent. I decided to allow her to remain there, but not as yet to be among the ranks of the postulants as she asked. I believe the death of Madame de Tourvel and that of Monsieur de Valmont may have affected her young mind too much. Much as I respect the religious vocation, I should never see my daughter embrace this calling without sorrow or fear. It is my opinion that we have plenty of duties to fulfil already without creating new ones for ourselves. Besides, it is scarcely at that age that we can know what is good for us.

  What makes it twice as embarrassing is the imminent return of Monsieur de Gercourt. Will it be necessary to break off such an advantageous match? And how can one minister to the happiness of one’s children if it is not enough to want it and devote all one’s attention to achieving it? You will oblige me greatly by telling me what you would do in my position. I cannot make up my mind at all. I find nothing so frightening as to have to decide on the fate of other people, and I am equally fearful of behaving with the severity of a judge or the feebleness of a mother on this occasion.

  I blame myself constantly for adding to your worries by speaking about my own. But I know your nature. The consolation you are able to give to others will be for you the greatest consolation you can receive yourself.

  Farewell my dear, worthy friend. I am impatient to receive your two replies.

  Paris, 13 December 17**

  LETTER 171

  Madame de Rosemonde to the Chevalier Danceny

  After what you have told me, Monsieur, there is nothing to be done but weep and be silent. One is sorry to be alive still when one learns of such terrible doings. One is ashamed of being a woman when one sees a woman capable of excesses like these.

  For my part I should be very glad to allow everything which could have any bearing on, or ensue from, these lamentable events to be quietly forgotten. I even hope they will never cause you any other sorrows than those inseparable from your unfortunate victory over my nephew. Despite his wrongdoing, which I am forced to acknowledge, I feel I shall never be able to get over his loss; but my eternal affliction will be the only revenge I shall allow myself to take upon you. It is for you in your heart to appreciate the extent of that.

  If you would allow me at my age to make a remark that one hardly ever makes at yours, it is that if we knew what our true happiness consists in, we should never seek it outside the limits prescribed by the law and religion.

  You may be sure I shall faithfully and willingly keep the documents you have entrusted to me. But I ask you to authorize me to refuse to give them to anyone else, not even you, unless they should prove necessary in your defence. I daresay you will not refuse my request, and that you now feel that one often regrets having yielded to even the most just vengeance.

  I shall not stop there in my requests, persuaded as I am of your generosity and delicacy. It would be most worthy of both if you also gave me back the letters of Mademoiselle de Volanges, which you apparently have kept and which are probably no longer of any consequence
to you. I know this young person has done you wrong. But I do not think you had it in mind to punish her for it. And, if only out of self-respect, you will not revile the creature you loved so much. I have therefore no need to add that the respect which the daughter does not deserve is at least certainly due to the mother, to that respectable woman with regard to whom you have considerable amends to make. For, after all, however one seeks to delude oneself by claiming a certain delicacy of feeling, it is he who first tries to seduce a simple and innocent heart who makes himself thereby the first to sin by corrupting her, and he must be the one forever accountable for the excesses and mistakes she makes thereafter.

  Do not be astonished, Monsieur, at so much severity on my part. It is the greatest proof that I can give you of my perfect esteem. You will acquire new rights as well by consenting to my wish that you will preserve a secret which would harm you if it were in the public domain, and would bring death to the heart of a mother, which you have already wounded. At all events, Monsieur, I wish to do this service to my friend. And if I were afraid that you might refuse me this consolation, I would ask you to first remember that it is the only one you have left me.

  I have the honour to be, etc.

  From the Chateau de —, 15 December 17**

  LETTER 172

  Madame de Rosemonde to Madame de Volanges

  Had I been obliged, my dear, to send to Paris and wait for the information you ask me for with regard to Madame de Merteuil, it would not yet be possible to give it to you. And I should certainly have received from there only vague and unconfirmed reports. But some that I was not expecting and had no reason to expect have reached my ears, and they are only too definite. Oh my dear, how that woman has deceived you!