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 LETTERSI--A Hazardous UndertakingII--Why Love Is DangerousIII--Why Love Grows ColdIV--The Spice of LoveV--Love and TemperVI--Certain Maxims Concerning LoveVII--Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo from MenVIII--The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive CauseIX--Love Is a Natural InclinationX--The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's NatureXI--The Distinction Between Love and FriendshipXII--A Man in Love Is an Amusing SpectacleXIII--Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for LoveXIV--Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in LoveXV--The Hidden Motives of LoveXVI--How to Be Victorious in LoveXVII--Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and FlirtationXVIII--When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of ItXIX--Why a Lover's Vows Are UntrustworthyXX--The Half-way House to LoveXXI--The Comedy of ContrarinessXXII--Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to LoveXXIII--Two Irreconcilable Passions in WomanXXIV--An Abuse of Credulity Is IntolerableXXV--Why Virtue Is So Often OvercomeXXVI--Love Demands Freedom of ActionXXVII--The Heart Needs Constant EmploymentXXVIII--Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling ImportanceXXIX--The Misfortune of Too Sudden an AvowalXXX--When Resistance is Only a PretenceXXXI--The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la SablièreXXXII--The Advantages of a Knowledge of the HeartXXXIII--A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with LoveXXXIV--Absence Makes the Heart Grow FonderXXXV--The Heart Should Be Played Upon Like the Keys of a PianoXXXVI--Mistaken Impressions Common to All WomenXXXVII--The Allurements of Stage WomenXXXVIII--Varieties of Resistance Are EssentialXXXIX--The True Value of Compliments Among WomenXL--Oratory and Fine Phrases Do Not Breed LoveXLI--Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of ValorXLII--Surface Indications in Women Are Not Always GuidesXLIII--Women Demand RespectXLIV--Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's OpinionXLV--What Favors Men Consider FaultsXLVI--Why Inconstancy Is Not InjusticeXLVII--Cause of Quarrels Among RivalsXLVIII--Friendship Must Be FirmXLIX--Constancy Is a Virtue Among Narrow MindedL--Some Women Are Very CunningLI--The Parts Men and Women PlayLII--Love Is a Traitor with Sharp ClawsLIII--Old Age Not a Preventive Against AttackLIV--A Shrewd But Not an Unusual SchemeLV--A Happy Ending

 * * * * *

CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN LORD SAINT-EVREMOND AND NINON DE L'ENCLOS

I--Lovers and Gamblers Have Something in CommonII--It Is Sweet to Remember Those We Have LovedIII--Wrinkles Are a Mark of WisdomIV--Near Hopes Are Worth as Much as Those Far OffV--On the Death of De CharlevalVI--The Weariness of MonotonyVII--After the Death of La Duchesse de MazarinVIII--Love Banishes Old AgeIX--Stomachs Demand More Attention Than MindsX--Why Does Love Diminish After Marriage?XI--Few People Resist AgeXII--Age Has Some ConsolationsXIII--Some Good Taste Still Exists in FranceXIV--Superiority of the Pleasures of the StomachXV--Let the Heart Speak Its Own LanguageXVI--The Memory of YouthXVII--I Should Have Hanged MyselfXVIII--Life Is Joyous When It Is Without SorrowLetter to the Modern Leontium

NINON DE L'ENCLOS

LIFE AND LETTERS

INTRODUCTION

The inner life of the most remarkable woman that ever lived is herepresented to American readers for the first time. Ninon, orMademoiselle de l'Enclos, as she was known, was the most beautifulwoman of the seventeenth century. For seventy years she heldundisputed sway over the hearts of the most distinguished men ofFrance; 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 thatshe was the marvel of his reign. 

How she preserved her extraordinary beauty to so great an age, andattracted to her side the greatest and most brilliant men of thecentury, is told in her biography, which has been entirely re-written, and new facts and incidents added that do not appear in the Frenchcompilations. 

Her celebrated "Letters to the Marquis de Sévigné, " newly translated, and appearing for the first time in the United States, constitute themost remarkable pathology of the female heart, its motives, objects, and secret aspirations, ever penned. With unsparing hand she unmasksthe human heart and unveils the most carefully hidden mysteries offemininity, and every one who reads these letters will see herselfdepicted as in a mirror. 

At an early age she perceived the inequalities between the sexes, andrefused to submit to the injustice of an unfair distribution of humanqualities. After due deliberation, she suddenly announced to herfriends: "I notice that the most frivolous things are charged up tothe account of women, and that men have reserved to themselves theright to all the essential qualities; from this moment I will be aman. " 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, andcreated for herself, as the distinguished Abbé de Chateauneauf says, "a place in the ranks of illustrious men, while preserving all thegrace 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'Enclosis to incur the animadversions of those who stand upon the dogma, thatwhoso violates one of the Ten Commandments is guilty of violating themall, particularly when one of the ten is conventionally selected asthe essential precept and the most important to be observed. It ispurely a matter of predilection or fancy, perhaps training andenvironment may have something to do with it, though judgment iswanting, but many will have it so, and hence, they arrive at theopinion that the end of the controversy has been reached. 

Fortunately for the common sense of mankind, there are others whorepudiate this rigid rule and excuse for human conduct; who refuse toaccept 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 persistentlytransgressed one of the precepts of the Decalogue, she is entitled togreat consideration because of her faithful observance of the others, not only in their letter but in their spirit, and that her lifecontains much that is serviceable to humanity, in many more ways thanif she had studiously preserved her personal purity to the sacrificeof other qualities, which are of as equal importance as virtues, andas essential to be observed. 

Another difficulty in the way of establishing her as a model of anykind, on account of her deliberate violations of the sixth precept ofthe Decalogue, is the fact that she was not of noble birth, held noofficial position in the government of France, either during theregency 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 eagerlysought 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 positionmight have covered up a multitude of gross, vulgar practices, cruelties, barbarities, oppressions, crimes, and acts ofmisgovernment, and have concealed her spiritual deformity beneath thegrandeur of her splendid public vices and irregularities. The mantleof 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 magnifiedinto mountains of viciousness, and call forth an army of well meaningbut inconsistent people to reform them by brute force. 

It is time to interpose an impasse to the further spread of thismisapprehension of the nature and consequences of human acts, and todemonstrate the possibility, in humble walks of life, of virtues worthcultivating, and to erect models out of those who, while they may bederelict in their ethical duties, are still worthy of being imitatedin other respects. Our standards and patterns of morality are so highas to be unattainable, not in the details of the practice of virtue, but in the personnel of the model. Royal and noble blood permeatedwith the odor of sanctity; virtuous statesmanship, or proud politicalposition attained through the rigid observance of the ethical rules ofpersonal purity, are nothing to the rank and file, the polloi, who cannever hope to reach those elevations in this world; as well expatiateupon the virtues of Croesus to a man who will never go beyond hisday's wages, or expect the homeless to become ecstatic over themagnificence of Nabuchodonosor's Babylonian palace. Such extremespossess no influence over the ordinary mind, they are the merevanities of the conceited, the mistakes of moralists. 

The history of Ninon de l'Enclos stands out from the pages of historyas 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 inwomen--womanly purity--was entirely wanting in her conduct throughlife. 

While no apology can be effectual to relieve her memory from that onestigma, the other virtues connected with it, and which she possessedin superabundance, deserve a close study, inasmuch as the trend ofmodern society is in the direction of the philosophical principles andprecepts, which justified her in pursuing the course of life shepreferred to all others. She was an ardent disciple of the Epicureanphilosophy, but in her adhesion to its precepts, she added thataltruistic 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 ofartillery, Te Deums, or such other demonstrations of joy as areattendant upon the arrival on earth of princes and offspring of greatpersonages. Nevertheless, for the ninety years she occupied the stageof life, she accomplished more in the way of shaping great nationalpolicies, successful military movements and brilliant diplomaticsuccesses, than any man or body of men in the seventeenth century. 

In addition to that, her genius left an impress upon music and thefine arts, an impress so profound that the high standard of excellenceboth have attained in our day is due to her efforts in establishing asolid foundation upon which it was possible to erect a substantialstructure. Moreover, in her hands and under her auspices and guidance, languages, belles lettres, and rhetoric received an impetus towardperfection, and raised the French language and its literature, fiction, poetry and drama, to so high a standard, that its productionsare the models of the twentieth century. 

It was Ninon de l'Enclos whose brilliant mentality and intellectualgenius formed the minds, the souls, the genius, of such master mindsas Saint-Evremond, La Rouchefoucauld, Molière, Scarron, La Fontaine, Fontenelle, and a host of others in literature and fine arts; theGreat Condé, de Grammont, de Sévigné, and the flower of the chivalryof France, in war, politics, and diplomacy. Even Richelieu was notunaffected by her influence. 

Strange power exerted by one frail woman, a woman not of noble birth, with only beauty, sweetness of disposition, amiability, goodness, andbrilliant accomplishments as her weapons! It was not a case of themoth and the flame, but the operation of a wise philosophy, theprecepts 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 ancientdoctrines which have drawn man away from happiness and comfort, andconverted him into a bitter pessimism that often leads to despair. 

As has already been suggested, had Ninon de l'Enclos sat upon athrone, or commanded an army, the pages of history would teem with therenown of her exploits, and great victories be awarded to her insteadof to those who would have met with defeat without her inspiration. 

Pompey, in his vanity, declared that he could raise an army bystamping his foot upon the ground, but the raising of Ninon del'Enclos' finger could bring all the chivalry of Europe around asingle standard, or at the same gentle signal, cause them to put asidetheir arms and forget everything but peace and amity. She dominatedthe intellectual geniuses of the long period during which she lived, and reigned over them as their absolute queen, through the sheer forceof her personal charms, which she never hesitated to bestow upon thosewhom she found worthy, and who expressed a desire to possess them, studiously regulated, however, by the precepts and principles of thephilosophy of Epicurus, which today is rapidly gaining ground in oursocial relations through its better understanding and appreciation. 

Her life bears a great resemblance to the histories in which we readabout the most celebrated women of ancient times, who occupied amiddle station between the condition of marriage and prostitution--aclass of women whose Greek name is familiarized to our ears intranslations of Aristophanes. Ninon de l'Enclos was of the order ofthe French "hetaerae, " and, as by her beauty and her talents, sheattained the first rank in the social class, her name has come down toposterity with those of Aspasia and Leontium, while the lessdistinguished favorites of less celebrated men have shared the commonoblivion, which hides from the memory of men, every degree ofmediocrity, whether of virtue or vice. 

A class of this kind, a status of this singular nature existingamongst accomplished women, who inspired distinguished men with loftyideals, and developed the genius of men who, otherwise, would haveremained 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 thepresent day in government, politics, literature, and the fine arts. 

As a distinguished example of such a class, the most prominent in theworld, in fact, apart from a throne, Ninon de l'Enclos will peculiarlyengage the attention of all who, whether for knowledge or amusement, are observers of human nature under all its varieties andcircumstances. 

It would be idle to enter upon a historical digression on the state offemale manners in ancient Athens, or in Europe during the last threecenturies. The reader should discard them from his mind when heperuses the life of Ninon de l'Enclos, and examine her character andenvironments from every point of view as a type toward which istrending modern social conditions. 

At first blush, and to a narrow intellect, an individual woman of thecharacter of Ninon de l'Enclos would seem hopelessly lost to allvirtue, abandoned by every sense of shame, and irreclaimable to anyfeeling of social or private duty. But only at first blush, and to themost circumscribed of narrow minds, who, fortunately, do not controlthe policy of mankind, although occasional disorders here and thereindicate that they are endeavouring to do so. 

A large majority of mankind are of the settled opinion that everyvirtue is bound up in that of chastity. Our manners and customs, ourlaws, most of our various kinds of religions, our national sentimentsand feelings--all our most serious opinions, as well as our dearestand best rooted prejudices, forbid the dissevering, in the minds ofwomen 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 thishead, or to disturb, on a point considered so vital, the settlednotions of society, is equally inconsistent with common prudence andthe policy of common honesty; and as tending to such an end, we areapt to consider all discussion on the subject as at least officiouslyincurring 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 fora moment, and to view the question, not through the medium ofsentiment, but with an eye of philosophic impartiality. We aregradually nearing the point, where it is conceded that in certainconditions of society, one failing is not wholly incompatible with ageneral practice of virtue--a remark to be met with in every homilysince homilies were written, notwithstanding that rigid rule alreadyalluded to in the previous chapter. 

It is surprising that it has never occurred to any moralist of thecommon order, who deals chiefly with such general reflections, toapply this particular maxim to this particular social status. Wefollow the wise precepts of honesty found in Cicero, although we knowthat he was, at the time he was writing them, plundering his fellowmen at every opportunity. Our admiration for Bacon's philosophy andwisdom reaches adulation although he was the "meanest of men, " and wasguilty of the most flagrant crimes such as judicial bribery andpolitical corruption. We read that Aspasia had some great and manyamiable qualities; so too had Ninon de l'Enclos; and it is worthy ofconsideration, how far we judge candidly or wisely in condemning suchcharacters in gross, and treating their virtues as Saint Austin waswont to deal with those of his heathen adversaries, as no better than"splendid vices, " so unparalleled in their magnitude as to becomevirtues by the operation of the law of extremes. There was no lawpermitting a man to marry his sister, and there was no law forbiddingKing Cambyses to do as he liked. 

Another grave point to be considered is this: The world, as it nowstands, its laws, systems of government, manners and customs, andsocial conditions, have been built up on these same "splendid vices, "and whenever they have been tamed into subjection to mediocrity--letus say to clerical, or ecclesiastical domination;--government, societyand morals have retrograded. The social condition in France duringNinon de l'Enclos' time, and in England during the reign of CharlesII, is startling evidence of this accusation. Moreover, it is fastbecoming the condition to-day, a fact indicated by the almostuniversal demand for a revolution in social ethics, the foundation towhich, for some reason, has become awry, threatening to topple downthe structure erected upon it. Society can see nothing to originate, an incalculable number of attempts to better human conditions alwaysproving failures, and worsening the human status. It is dawning uponthe minds of the true lovers of humanity, that there is nothing elseto be done, but to revert to the past to find the key to any possiblereform, and to that past we are edging rapidly, though, it must besaid unwillingly, in the hope and expectation that the old foundationsare possessed of sufficient solidity to support a new or re-modeledstructure. 

The life of Ninon de l'Enclos, upon this very point, furnishes foodfor profitable reflection, inasmuch as it gives an insight into thegreat results to be obtained by the following of the precepts of anancient philosophy which seems to have survived the clash of ages ofintellectual and moral warfare, and to have demonstrated its capacityto supply defects in segregated dogmatic systems wholly incapable ofany syncretic tendencies. 

CHAPTER III

Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos

Anne de l'Enclos, or "Ninon, " as she has always been familiarly calledby the world at large, was born at Paris in 1615. What her parentswere, or what her family, is a matter of little consequence. To allpersons who have attained celebrity over the route pursued by her, original rank and station are not of the least moment. By force of hisgenius in hewing for himself a niche in history, Napoleon was trulyhis own ancestor, as it is said he loved to remark pleasantly. So withNinon de l'Enclos, the novelty of the career she laid out for herselfto 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 mannerderogatory to the eminence; on the contrary, it is considered ratheras matter to be proud of; the idea that out of ignominy, surrounded byconditions devoid of all decency, justice, and piety, an individualcan elevate himself up to the highest pinnacle of human power andglory, has always, and will always be regarded as an example to befollowed, and the badge of success stretched to cover the means ofits attainment. This is the universal custom where success has beenattained, the failures being relegated to a well merited oblivion asunworthy of consideration either as lessons of warning or for anypurpose. Our youth are very properly taught only the lessons ofsuccess. 

It is in evidence that Ninon's father was a gentleman of Touraine andconnected, through his wife, with the family of Abra de Raconis, arace of no mean repute in the Orleanois, and that he was anaccomplished gentleman occupying a high position in society. Voltaire, however, declares that Ninon had no claim to a parentage of suchdistinction; that the rank of her mother was too obscure to deserveany notice, and that her father's profession was of no higher dignitythan that of a teacher of the lute. This account is not less likely, from the remarkable proficiency acquired by Ninon, at an early age, inthe 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 whichwas his skill as a performer on the lute. A fact which may haveinduced Voltaire to mistake one of his talents for his regularprofession. 

Ninon's parents were as opposite in sentiments and disposition as thePoles of the earth. Madame de l'Enclos was a prudent, pious Christianmother, who endeavored to inspire her daughter with the same pioussentiments which pervaded her own heart. The fact is that the motherattempted to prepare her daughter for a conventual life, a professionat that period of the highest honor, and one that led to preferment, not only in religious circles, but in the world of society. At thattime, conventual and monastic dignitaries occupied a prominent placein the formation of public and private manners and customs, and if notregarded impeccable, their opinions were always considered valuable instate matters of the greatest moment, even the security of thrones, the welfare and peace of nations sometimes depending upon theirwisdom, judgment, and decisions. 

With this laudable object in view, Madame de l'Enclos carefullytrained her daughter in the holy exercises of her religion, to whichshe hoped to consecrate her entire life. But the fond mother met withan impasse, an insurmountable obstacle, in the budding Ninon herself, who, even in the temples of the Most High, when her parent imaginedher to be absorbed in the contemplation of saintly things, andimbibing inspiration from her "Hours, " the "Lives of the Saints, " or"An Introduction to a Holy Life, " a book very much in vogue at thatperiod, the child would be devouring such profane books as Montaigne, Scarron's romances and Epicurus, as more in accordance with her trendof 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 goodmother's ideas, for it excluded the idea of religion as commonlyunderstood, and crushed out the sentiment of maternity, that crowningglory to which nearly all young female children aspire, although inthem, at a tender age, it is instinctive and not based upon knowledgeof its meaning. 

This beginning of Ninon's departure from the beaten path should not bea matter of surprise, for all the young open their hearts to ideasthat spring from the sentiments and passions, and anticipate inimagination the parts they are to play in the tragedy or comedy oflife. 

It is this period of life which the moralist and educator justlycontend should be carefully guarded. It is really a concession toenvironment, and a tacit argument against radical heredity as thefoundation upon which rest the character and disposition of the adult, and which is the mainspring of his future moral conduct. It isimpossible to philosophize ourselves out of this sensible position. 

In the case of Ninon, there was her mother, a woman of undoubtedvirtue and exemplary piety, following the usual path in the trainingof her only child and making a sad failure of it, or at least notmaking any impression on the object of her solicitude. This was, however, not due to the mother's intentions: her training was too weakto overcome that coming from another quarter. It has been said thatNinon's father and mother were as opposite as the Poles in characterand disposition, and Ninon was suspended like a pendulum to swingbetween two extremes, one of which had to prevail, for there was nomidway stopping place. It may be that the disciple of heredity, theopponent of environment will perceive in the result a strong argumentin favor of his view of humanity. Be that as it may, Ninon swung awayfrom the extreme of piety represented by her mother, and was caught atthe other extreme by the less intellectually monotonous ideas of herfather. There was no mental conflict in the young mind, nothingdifficult; on the contrary, she accepted his ideas as pleasanter andless conducive to pain and discomfort. Too young to reason, sheperceived a flowery pathway, followed it, and avoided the thorny oneoffered 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 ofhuman ethics as evolved from Epicurus, could be reduced to the fourfollowing 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 greaterpleasure, or produces a greater pain. 

Fourth--That pain is to be endured which averts a greater pain, orsecures a greater pleasure. 

The last canon is the one that has always appealed to the religioussentiments, and it is the one which has enabled an army of martyrs tosubmit patiently to the most excruciating torments, to reach thehappiness of Paradise, the pleasure contemplated as a reward forenduring the frightful pain. The reader can readily infer, however, from his daily experiences with the human family, that thisconstruction is seldom put upon this canon, the world at large, viewing it from the Epicurean interpretation, which meant earthlypleasures, or the purely sensual enjoyments. It is certain thatNinon's father did not construe any of these canons according to thereligious idea, but followed the commonly accepted version, andimpressed them upon his young daughter's mind in all their variouslights and shades. 

Imbibing such philosophy from her earliest infancy, the father takinggood care to press them deep into her plastic mind, it is notastonishing that Ninon should discard the more distasteful fruits tobe painfully harvested by following her mother's tuition, and acceptthe easily gathered luscious golden fruit offered her by her father. Like all children and many adults, the glitter and the tinsel of thepresent enjoyment were too powerful and seductive to be resisted, orto be postponed for a problematic pleasure. 

The very atmosphere which surrounded the young girl, and which shesoon learned to breathe in deep, pleasurable draughts, was surchargedwith the intoxicating oxygen of freedom of action, liberality, andunrestrained enjoyment. While still very young she was introduced intoa select society of the choicest spirits of the age and speedilybecame their idol, a position she continued to occupy withoutdiminution for over sixty years. No one of all these men of the worldhad ever seen so many personal graces united to so muchintellectuality 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 reignedmodesty and love, and reason and voluptuousness. Her teeth were likepearls, her mouth mobile and her smile most captivating, resistlessand adorable. She was the personification of majesty without pride orhaughtiness, and possessed an open, tender and touching countenanceupon which shone friendship and affection. Her voice was soft andsilvery, her arms and hands superb models for a sculptor, and all hermovements and gestures manifested an exquisite, natural grace whichmade her conspicuous in the most crowded drawing-room. As she was inher youth, so she continued to be until her death at the age of ninetyyears, an incredible fact but so well attested by the gravest and mostreliable writers, who testify to the truth of it, that there is noroom for doubt. Ninon attributed it not to any miracle, but to herphilosophy, and declared that any one might exhibit the samepeculiarities by following the same precepts. We have it on the mostundoubted testimony of contemporaneous writers, who were intimate withhim, that one of her dearest friends and followers, Saint-Evremond, atthe age of eighty-nine years, inspired one of the famous beauties ofthe English Court with an ardent attachment. 

The beauties of her person were so far developed at the age of twelveyears, that she was the object of the most immoderate admiration onthe part of men of the greatest renown, and her beauty is embalmed intheir works either as a model for the world, or she is enshrined insong, poetry, and romance as the heroine. 

In fact Ninon had as tutors the most distinguished men of the age, whovied with one another in embellishing her young mind with all thegraces, learning and accomplishments possible for the human mind tocontain. Her native brightness and active mind absorbed everythingwith an almost supernatural rapidity and tact, and it was not longbefore she became their peer, and her qualities of mind reached out sofar beyond theirs in its insatiable longing, that she, in her turn, became their tutor, adviser and consoler, as well as their tenderfriend. 

CHAPTER IV

The Morals of the Period

Examples of the precocious talents displayed by Mademoiselle del'Enclos are not uncommon in the twentieth century, but theapplication she made of them was remarkable and uncommon. Accomplishedin music, learned and proficient in the languages, a philosopher of nosmall degree, and of a personal beauty sometimes called "beauté dediable, " she appeared upon the social stage at a time when a new idolwas an imperative necessity for the salvation of moral sanity, and thepreservation of some remnants of personal decency in the sexualrelations. 

Cardinal Richelieu had just succeeded in consolidating the usurpationsof the royal prerogatives on the rights of the nobility and thepeople, which had been silently advancing during the preceding reigns, and was followed by the long period of unexampled misgovernment, whichoppressed and impoverished as well as degraded every rank and everyorder of men in the French kingdom, ceasing only with the Revolution. 

The great Cardinal minister had built worse than he had intended, itis to be hoped; for his clerico-political system had practicallydestroyed French manhood, and left society without a guiding star tocement the rope of sand he had spun. Unable to subject the masterminds among the nobility to its domination, ecclesiasticism hadsucceeded in destroying them by augmenting royal prerogatives which itcould 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 andhis whole entourage of clerical reformers could not extricate a singleindividual. It was a riot of theological morality. 

The whole body of the French nobility and the middle class of citizenswere reduced to a servile attendance on the court, as the only meansof advancement and reward. Every species of industry and merit inthese classes was sedulously discouraged; and the motive of honorablecompetition for honorable things, being withdrawn, no pursuit oroccupation was left them but the frivolous duties, or the degradingpleasures of the palace. 

Next to the king, the women naturally became the first objects oftheir effeminate devotion; and it is difficult to say which weresoonest corrupted by courtiers consummate in the arts of adulation, and unwearied in their exercise. The sovereign rapidly degeneratedinto an accomplished despot, and the women into intriguers andcoquettes. Richelieu had indeed succeeded in subjecting the State tothe rule of the Church, but Ninon was destined to play an importantpart in modifying the evils which afflicted society, and at leastelevate its tone. From the methods she employed to effect thischange, it may be suspected that the remedy was equivalent to theHanemannic maxim: "Similia similbus curantur, " a strange applicationof a curative agent in a case of moral decrepitude, however valuableand effective it may be in physical ailments. 

The world of the twentieth century, bound up as it is in materialprogress, refuses to limit its objects and aims to the problematicenjoyment of the pleasures of Paradise in the great hereafter, or ofsuffering with stoicism the pains and misfortunes of this earth as ameans of avoiding the problematic pains of Hell. Future rewards andpunishments are no longer incentives to virtue or right living. Theonly drag upon human acts of every kind is now that great politicalmaxim, the non-observance of which has often deluged the earth withblood; "Sic utere tuo ut alienum non laedas, " which is to say: So usethine own as not to injure thy neighbor. It is a conventionalprinciple, one of contract in reality, but it has become a greatdoctrine of equity and justice, and it is inculcated by oureducational systems to the exclusion of the purely religious idea, andthe elimination of religious dogma, which tends to oppressiverestraints, is carefully fostered. 

There is another reason why men's minds are impelled away from thepurely sentimental moral doctrines insisted upon by sectarianism, which is ecclesiasticism run riot, and the higher the education thedeeper we delve into the secret motives of that class of mankind, thedeceptive 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 liberalstatesmen, heroes, and conspicuous conquerors, originated inviolations of the Decalogue, and those nations and kingdoms which havebeen founded upon strictly ecclesiastical ideas, have all sunk beneaththe shifting sands of time, or have become so degenerate as to bebywords and objects of derision. 

From the same viewpoint, a strange phenomenon is observable in theworld of literature, arts, and sciences. The brightest, greatestgeniuses, whose works are pointed to with admiration; studied asmodels 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, itis impossible even to conjecture, the fact only remaining that it isso. Perhaps there are so many different standards of morality, thathumanity, weary of the eternal bickering consequent upon the conflictsentered into for their enforcement, have made for themselves a newinterpretation which they find less difficult to observe, and findmore peace and pleasure in following. 

To take a further step in the same direction, it is curious that inthe lives of the Saints, those who spent their whole earthly existencein abstinence, works of the severest penance, and mortifications ofthe flesh, the tendency of demoniac influence was never in thedirection of Sabbath breaking, profanity, idolatry, robbery, murderand covetousness, but always exerted itself to the fullest extent ofits power in attacks upon chastity. All other visions were absent inthe hair-shirted, and self-scourgings brought out nothing but sexualidealities, sensual temptations. The reason for this peculiarity isnot far to seek. What is dominant in the minds always finds egresswhen a favorable opportunity is presented, and the very thought ofunchastity as something to be avoided, leads to its contemplation, orits creation in the form of temptation. The virtue of chastity was theone law, and its observances and violations were studied from everypoint of view, and its numberless permissible and forbiddenlimitations expatiated upon to such a degree, that he who escaped themaltogether could well attribute the result to the interposition ofsome supernatural power, the protection of some celestial guardian. One is reminded of the expression of St. Paul: "I had not known lusthad the law not said: thou shalt not covet. " Lord Beaconsfield'sopinion was, that excessive piety led to sexual disorders. 

According to Ninon's philosophy, whatever tended to propagateimmoderation in the sexual relations was rigidly eliminated, andchastity placed upon the same plane and in the same grade as othermoral precepts, to be wisely controlled, regulated, and managed. Sheput all her morality upon the same plane, and thereby succeeded inequalizing corporeal pleasure, so that the entire scale of human actsproduced a harmonious equality of temperament, whence goodness andvirtue necessarily followed, the pathway being unobstructed. 

It is too much to be expected, or even to be hoped for, that therewill ever be any unanimity among moral reformers, or any uniformity intheir standards of moral excellence. The educated world of the presentday, reading between the lines of ancient history, and some that isnot so very ancient, see ambition for place and power as the movingcause, the inspiration behind the great majority of revolutions, andthey have come to apply the same construction to the great majority ofmoral agitations and movements for the reform of morals and thebetterment 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'soccupation would be gone; hence, the agitation continues. As aneminent theologian declared with a conviction that went home to amultitude, at the Congress of Religions, when the Columbian Expositionwas in operation:

"If all the religions in the world are to be merged into one, who, orwhat will support the clergy that will be deprived of their salariesby 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 itsprecepts to avoid being caught in the meshes of the same net spreadfor other women. Beloved and even idolized on all sides, as an objectthat could be worshiped without incurring the displeasure ofRichelieu, who preferred his courtiers to amuse themselves with womenand gallantries rather than meddle with state affairs, and beingdisposed both through inclination and training to accept thesituation, Ninon felt the sentiments of the tender passion, butphilosophically waited for a worthy object. 

That object appeared in the person of the young Gaspard, Count deColigny, 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 shetherefore yielded to the young man of distinguished family, charmingmanners, and a physically perfect specimen of manhood. 

It is alleged by Voltaire and repeated by Cardinal de Retz, that theearly bloom of Ninon's charms was enjoyed by Richelieu, but if this betrue, it is more than likely that Ninon submitted through policy andnot from any affection for the great Cardinal. It is certain, however, that the great statesman's attention had been called to her growinginfluence among the French nobility, and that he desired to controlher actions if not to possess her charms. She was a tool that heimagined he could utilize to keep his rebellious nobles in his leash. Abbé Raconis, Ninon's uncle, and the Abbé Boisrobert, her friend, whostood close to the Cardinal, had suggested to His Eminence that thecharms of the new beauty could be used to advantage in state affairs, and he accordingly sent for her at first through curiosity, but whenhe had seen her he hoped to control her for his personal benefit. 

Although occupied in vast projects which his great genius and activityalways conducted to a happy issue, the great man had not renounced theaffections of his human nature, nor his intellectual gratifications. He aimed at everything, and did not consider anything beneath hisdignity. Every day saw him engaged in cultivating a taste forliterature and art, and some moments of every day were set apart forsocial gallantries. When it came to the art of pleasing and attractingwomen, we have the word of Cardinal de Retz for it, that he was notalways successful. Perhaps it is only inferior minds who possess theart and the genius of seduction. 

The intriguing Abbé, in order to bring Ninon under the influence ofhis master, and to charm her with the great honor done her by a manupon whom were fixed the eyes of all Europe, prepared a series ofgorgeous fêtes, banquets and entertainments at the palace at Rueil. But Ninon was not in the least overwhelmed, and refused to hear thesighs of the great man. Hoping to inspire jealousy, he affected tolove Marion de Lormes, a proceeding which gave Ninon great pleasure asit relieved her from the importunities of the Cardinal. The end of itwas, that Richelieu gave up the chase and left Ninon in peace tofollow her own devices in her own way. 

Whatever may have been the relations between Ninon and CardinalRichelieu, it is certain that the Count de Coligny was her firstsentimental attachment, and the two lovers, in the first intoxicationof their love, swore eternal constancy, a process common to all newlovers and believed possible to maintain. It was not long, however, before Ninon perceived that the first immoderate transports of lovegradually lost their activity, and by applying the precepts of herphilosophy to explain the phenomenon, came to regard love by itseffects, as a blind mechanical movement, which it was the policy ofmen to ennoble according to the conventional rules of decency andhonor, to the exclusion of its original meaning. 

After coldly reasoning the matter out to its only legitimateconclusion, she tore off the mask covering a metaphysical love, whichcould not reach or satisfy the light of intelligence or the sentimentsand emotions of the heart, and which appeared to her to possess aslittle reality as the enchanted castles, marvels of magic, andmonsters depicted in poetry and romance. To her, love finally became amere thirst, and a desire for pleasure to be gratified by indulgencelike all other pleasure. The germ of philosophy already growing in hersoul, found nothing in this discovery that was essentially unnatural;on the contrary, it was essentially natural. It was clear to herlogical mind, that a passion like love produced among men differenteffects according to different dispositions, humors, temperament, education, interest, vanity, principles, or circumstances, withoutbeing, at the same time, founded upon anything more substantial than adisguised, though ardent desire of possession, the essential of itsexistence, after which it vanished as fire disappears through lack offuel. 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 stepfurther, and considered the unequal division of qualities distributedbetween the two sexes. She perceived the injustice of it and refusedto abide by it. "I perceive, " she declared, "that women are chargedwith everything that is frivolous, and that men reserve to themselvesthe 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 alwaysfollowed by the lassitude of satiety, so far from causing Ninon anytears of regret, nerved her up to a philosophy different from that ofother women, and makes it impossible to judge her by the samestandard. She can not be considered a woman subject to a thousandfantasies and whims, a thousand trifling concealed proprieties ofposition and custom. Her morals became the same as those of the wisestand noblest men of the period in which she lived, and raised her totheir rank instead of maintaining her in the category of theintriguing coquettes of her age. 

It is not improbable that her experience of the suffering attendantupon the decay of such attachments, a suffering alluded to by thosewho contemplate only the intercourse of the sexes through the mediumof poetry and sentiment, had considerable influence in determining herfuture conduct. At an early age, following upon her liaison with CountColigny, she adopted the determination she adhered to during the restof her life, of retaining so much only of the female character as wasforced upon her by nature and the insuperable laws of society. Actingon this principle, her society was chiefly composed of persons of heradopted sex, of whom the most celebrated of their time made her housea constant place of meeting. 

A curious incident in her relations with Count de Coligny was hersuccess in persuading him to adjure the errors of the Huguenots andreturn to the Roman Catholic Church. She had no religiouspredilections, feeling herself spiritually secure in her philosophicprinciples, but sought only his welfare and advancement. His obstinacywas depriving him of the advantages due his birth and personal merit. Considering that Ninon was scarcely sixteen years of age, respiringnothing but love and pleasure, to effect by tenderness and thepersuasive strength of her reasoning powers, such a change in a manso obstinate as the Count de Coligny, in an obstinate and excessivelybigoted age, was something unique in the history of lovers of thatperiod. Women then cared very little for religious principles, andrarely exerted themselves in advancing the cause of the dominantreligion, much less thought of the spiritual needs of their favorites. The reverse is the rule in these modern times, when women are the mostardent and persistent proselytizers of the various sects, a customwhich recalls the remark of a distinguished lawyer who failed torecover any assets from a notorious bankrupt he was pursuing for thedefrauded creditors: "This man has everything in his wife's name--evenhis religion. "

Ninon's disinterested counsel prevailed, and the Count afterwardabjured his errors, becoming the Duc de Chatillon, Marquis d'Andelot, and died a lieutenant general, bravely fighting for his country, atCharenton. 

CHAPTER VI

The "Birds" of the Tournelles

Having decided upon her career, Ninon converted her property intoprudent and safe securities, and purchased a city house in the Rue desTournelles au Marais, a locality at that time the center offashionable society, and another for a summer residence at Picpusse, in the environs of Paris. A select society of wits and gallantchevaliers soon gathered around her, and it required influence as wellas merit to gain an entrance into its ranks. Among this élite wereCount de Grammont, Saint-Evremond, Chapelle, Molière, Fontenelle, anda host of other no less distinguished characters, most of themcelebrated in literature, arts, sciences, and war. Ninon christenedthe society "Oiseaux des Tournelles, " an appellation much coveted bythe beaux and wits of Paris, and which distinguished the chosencompany from the less favored gentlemen of the great metropolis. 

Among those who longed for entrance into this charming society ofchoice spirits was the Count de Charleval, a polite and accomplishedchevalier, indeed, but of no particular standing as a literarycharacter. Nothing would do, however, but a song of triumph as a testof his competency and he accomplished it after much labor andconsumption of midnight oil. Scarron has preserved the first stanzain his literary works, the others being lost to the literary world, perhaps with small regret. The sentiments expressed in the firststanza rescued from oblivion will be sufficient to indicate thecharacter of the others:

"Je ne suis plus oiseau des champs, Mais de ces oiseaux des TournellesQui parlent d'amour en tout temps, Et qui plaignent les tourterellesDe ne se baiser qu'au printemps. "

Which liberally translated into English will run substantially asfollows:

No more am I a wild bird on the wing, But one of the birds of the Towers, whoThe love in their hearts always sing, And pity the poor Turtle Doves that cooAnd never kiss only in spring. 

Scarron alludes to the delicacy of the Count's taste and therefinement of his wit, by saying of him: "The muses brought him up onblanc mange and chicken broth. "

How Ninon kept together this remarkable coterie can best be understoodby an incident unparalleled in female annals. The Count de Fièsque, one of the most accomplished nobles of the French court, had itappears, grown tired of an attachment of long standing between Ninonand himself, before the passion of the former had subsided. A letter, containing an account of his change of sentiments, with reasonstherefor, was presented his mistress, while employed at her toilettein adjusting her hair, which was remarkable for its beauty andluxuriance, and which she regarded as the apple of her eye. Afflictedby the unwelcome intelligence, she cut off half of her lovely tresseson the impulse of the moment, and sent them as her answer to theCount's letter. Struck by this unequivocal proof of the sincerity ofher devotion to him, the Count returned to his allegiance to amistress so devoted, and thenceforward retained it until she herselfwearied of it and desired a change. 

As an illustration of her sterling honesty in money matters and herdelicate manner of ending a liaison, the following anecdote will serveto demonstrate the hold she was able to maintain upon her admirers. 

M. De Gourville, an intimate friend of Ninon's, adhered in the wars ofthe Fronde to the party of the Prince of Condé, one of the "Birds ofthe Tournelles. " Compelled to quit Paris, to avoid being hanged inperson, as he was in effigy, he divided the care of a large sum ofready money between Ninon de l'Enclos and the Grand Pénitencier ofNotre Dame. The money was deposited in two caskets. On his return fromexile, he applied to the priest for the return of his money, but tohis astonishment, all knowledge of the deposit was denied, and that ifany such deposit had been made, it was destined for charitablepurposes under the rules of the Pénitencier, and had most probablybeen distributed among the poor of Paris. De Gourville protested invain, and when he threatened to resort to forcible means, the powerof the church was invoked to compel him to abandon his attempt. Socruelly disappointed in a man whom all Paris deemed incorruptiblyhonest, de Gourville suspected nothing else from Mademoiselle del'Enclos. It was absurd to hope for probity in a woman ofreprehensible habits when that virtue was absent in a man who lived alife of such austerity as the Grand Pénitencier, hence he determinedto abstain from visiting her altogether, lest he might hate the womanhe 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 greatmisfortune has happened me in consequence of your absence. "

That settled the matter in de Gourville's mind, his money was gone andhe was a pauper. Plunged in mournful reflections, de Gourville darednot raise his eyes to those of his mistress. But she, mistaking hisagitation, went on hastily:

"I am sorry if you still love me, for I have lost my love for you, andthough I have found another with whom I am happy, I have not forgottenyou. Here, " she continued, turning to her escritoire, "here are thetwenty thousand crowns you intrusted to me when you departed. Takethem, my friend, but do not ask anything from a heart which is nolonger disposed in your favor. There is nothing left but the mostsincere friendship. "

Astonished at the contrast between her conduct and that of herreverend co-depositary, and recognizing that he had no right tocomplain of the change in her heart because of his long absence, deGourville related the story of the indignity heaped upon him by a manof so exalted a character and reputation. 

"You do not surprise me, " said Ninon, with a winning smile, "but youshould not have suspected me on that account. The prodigiousdifference in our reputations and conditions should have taught youthat. " Then adding with a twinkle in her eye: "Ne suis-je pas lagardeuse de la cassette?"

Ninon was afterward called "La belle gardeuse de cassette, " andVoltaire, whose vigilance no anecdote of this nature could escape, hasmade it, with some variations, the subject of a comedy, well known toevery admirer of the French drama, under the name of "La Dépositaire. "

Ninon had her preferences, and when one of her admirers was not to hertaste, neither prayers nor entreaties could move her. Hers was not acase of vendible charms, it was le bon appetit merely, an Epicureanvirtue. The Grand Prior of Vendôme had reason to comprehend this traitin her character. 

The worthy Grand Prior was an impetuous wooer, and he saw with greatsorrow that Ninon preferred the Counts de Miossens and de Palluan tohis clerical attractions. He complained bitterly to Ninon, but insteadof being softened by his reproaches, she listened to the voice of somenew rival when the Grand Prior thought his turn came next. This puthim in a great rage and he resolved to be revenged, and this is theway he fancied he could obtain it. One day shortly after he had leftNinon's house, she noticed on her dressing table a letter, which sheopened 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 spitegood naturedly, and replied by another quatrain based upon the samerhyme 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 shouldabandon herself wholly, both mind and body, to a philosophy socontrary in its principles and practices to that which her mother hadalways endeavored to instill into her young mind. The father wasabsent fighting for Heaven alone knew which faction into which Francewas broken up, there were so many of them, and the mother and daughterlived apart, the disparity in their sentiments making it impossiblefor them to do otherwise. For this reason, Ninon was practically herown mistress, and not interfered with because the husband and wifecould not agree upon any definite course of life for her to follow. Ninon's heart, however, had not lost any of its natural instincts, andshe loved her mother sincerely, a trait in her which all Paris learnedwith astonishment when her mother was taken down with what proved tobe a fatal illness. 

Madame de l'Enclos, separated from both her husband and daughter, anddevoting her life to pious exercises, acquired against them theviolent prejudices natural in one who makes such a sacrifice upon thealtar of sentiment. The worldly life of her daughter gave birth in hermind to an opinion which she deemed the natural consequence of it. The love of pleasure, in her estimation, had destroyed every vestigeof virtue in her daughter's soul and her neglect of her religiousduties had converted her into an unnatural being. 

But she was agreeably diverted from her ill opinion when her maladyapproached a dangerous stage. Ninon flew to heir mother's side as soonas she heard of it, and without becoming an enemy of her philosophy ofpleasure, she felt it incumbent upon her to suspend its practice. Friendship, liaisons, social duties, pleasure, everything ceased toamuse her or give her any satisfaction. The nursing of her sick motherengaged her entire attention, and her fervor in this dutifuloccupation astonished Madame de l'Enclos and softened her heart to theextent of acknowledging her error and correcting her estimate of herdaughter's character. She loved her daughter devotedly and was happyin the knowledge that she was as devotedly loved. But this was not thekind of happiness that could prolong her days. 

Notwithstanding all her philosophy, Ninon could not bear the spectaclepresented by her dying parent. Her soul was rent with a grief whichshe did not conceal, unashamed that philosophy was impotent torestrain an exhibition of such a natural weakness. Moreover, her dyingmother talked to her long and earnestly, and with her last breath gaveher loving counsel that sank deep into her heart, already softened byan uncontrollable sorrow and weakened by long vigils. 

Scarcely had Madame de l'Enclos closed her eyes upon the things ofearth, than Ninon conceived the project of withdrawing from the worldand entering a convent. The absence of her father left her absolutemistress of her conduct, and the few friends who reached her, despiteher express refusal to see any one, could not persuade her to alterher determination. Ninon, heart broken, distracted and desolate, threwherself bodily into an obscure convent in the suburbs of Paris, accepting it, in the throes of her sorrow, as her only refuge and homeon earth. 

Saint-Evremond, in a letter to the Duke d'Olonne, speaks of thesentiment which is incentive to piety:

"There are some whom misfortunes have rendered devout through acertain kind of pity for themselves, a secret piety, strong enough todispose 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 exempleQue la Ninon donne à tous les mondains, En se logeant avecque les nonais, Combien de pleurs la pauvre jouvencelleA répandus quand sa mère, sans elle, Cierges brûlants et portant écussons, Prêtres chantant leurs funèbres chanson, Voulut aller de linge enveloppéeServir 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 maidShed, 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 sheetTo 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 instealing over the heart of their friend. Marion, however, despaired ofsucceeding through her own personal influence, and enlisted thesympathies of Saint-Evremond, who knew Ninon's heart too well toimagine for a moment that the mournful, monotonous life she hadembraced would satisfy her very long. It was something to be admittedto her presence and talk over matters, a privilege they were accordedafter some demur. The first step toward ransoming their friend wasfollowed by others until they finally made great strides through herresolution. They brought her back in triumph to the world she hadquitted through a species of "frivolity, " so they called it, of whichshe was never again guilty as long as she lived. 

This episode in Ninon's life is in direct contrast with one whichoccurred when the Queen Regent, Anne of Austria, listening to thecomplaints of her jealous maids of honor, attempted to dispose ofNinon's future by immuring her in a convent. Ninon's celebrityattained such a summit, and her drawing rooms became so popular amongthe élite of the French nobility and desirable youth, that sad inroadswere made in the entourage of the Court, nothing but the culls ofhumanity being left for the ladies who patronized the royal functions. In addition to this, she excited the envy and jealousy of a certainclass of women, whom Ninon called "Jansensists of love, " because theypracticed in public the puritanic virtues which they did not even havetact enough to render agreeable. It is conceivable that Ninon'sbrilliant attractions, not to say seductive charms, and herunparalleled power to attract to her society the brightest and bestmen of the nation, engendered the most violent jealousy and hatred ofthose whose feebler charms were ignored and relegated to thebackground. The most bitter complaints and accusations were madeagainst her to the Queen Regent, who was beset on all sides by loudoutcries against the conduct of a woman whom they were powerless toimitate, until, to quiet their clamors, she deemed it her duty to act. 

Anne of Austria accordingly sent Ninon, by special messenger, aperemptory order to withdraw to a convent, giving her the power ofselection. At first Anne intended to send her to the convent ofRepentant Girls (Filles Repenties), but the celebrated Bauton, one ofthe Oiseaux des Tournelles, who loved a good joke as well as he didNinon, told her that such a course would excite ridicule because Ninonwas neither a girl nor a repentant (ni fille, ni repentie), for whichreason, the order was changed leaving Ninon to her own choice of aprison. 

Ninon knew the source of the order, and foresaw that her numerousdistinguished admirers would not have any difficulty in protectingher, and persuading the Queen Regent to rescind her order, andtherefore gave herself no concern, receiving the order as apleasantry. 

"I am deeply sensible of the goodness of the court in providing for mywelfare and in permitting me to select my place of retreat, andwithout hesitation, I decide in favor of the Grands Cordeliers. "

Now it so happened that the Grands Cordeliers was a monasteryexclusively for men, and from which women were rigidly excluded. Moreover, the morals of the holy brotherhood was not of the best, asthe writers of their history during that period unanimously testify. M. De Guitaut, the captain of the Queen's guard, who had beenintrusted with the message, happened to be one of the "Birds, " and heassured the Regent that it was nothing but a little pleasantry on thepart of Ninon, who merited a thousand marks of approval andcommendation for her sterling and brilliant qualities of mind andheart rather than punishment or even censure. 

The only comment made by the Queen Regent was: "Fie, the nastything!" accompanied by a fit of laughter. Others of the "Birds" cameto the rescue, among them the Duc d'Enghien, who was known not tovalue 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 withloud acclamations from all quarters. The envy and jealousy of herfemale enemies, the attempt to immure her in a convent, and herselection of the Grands Cordeliers as her place of retreat, broughther new friends and admirers through the notoriety given her, and allParis resounded with the fame of her spirit, her wit, and herphilosophy. 

Ladies of high rank sought admission into her charming circle, many ofthem, it is to be imagined, because they possessed exaggerated ideasof her influence at court. Had she not braved the Queen Regent withimpunity? Her drawing rooms soon became the center of attraction andwere nightly crowded with the better part of the brilliant society ofParis. Ninon was the acknowledged guide and leader, and all submittedto her sway without the slightest envy or jealousy, and it may also besaid, without the slightest compunctions or remorse of conscience. 

The affair with the Queen Regent had one good effect, it separated thedesirable from the undesirable in the social scale, compelling thelatter to set up an establishment of their own as a counterattraction, and as their only hope of having any society at all. Theyestablished a "little court" at the Hôtel Rambouillet, wherefoppishness was a badge of distinction, and where a few narrow minded, starched moralists, poisoned metaphysics and turned the sentiments ofthe heart into a burlesque by their affectation and their unrefined, even vulgar attempts at gallantry. They culled choice expressions andepigrams from the literature of the day, employing their memories toconceal their paucity of original wit, and practised upon theirimaginations to obtain a salacious philosophy, which consisted ofsodden ideas, flat in their expression, stale and unattractive intheir adaptation. 

Ninon's coterie was the very opposite, consisting as it did of thevery flower of the nobility and the choicest spirits of the age, whobanished dry and sterile erudition, and sparkled with the liveliestwit and polite accomplishments. There were some who eluded thevigilance of Ninon's shrewd scrutiny, and made their way into herinner circle, but they were soon forced to abandon their pretensionsby their inability to maintain any standing among a class of men whowere so far beyond them in rank and attainments. 

Not long after her return to the pleasures of society, after theconvent episode, Ninon was called upon to mourn the demise of herfather. M. De l'Enclos was one of the fortunate men of the times whoescaped the dangers attendant upon being on the wrong side inpolitics. For some inscrutable reason, he took sides with Cardinal deRetz, and on that account was practically banished from Paris andcompelled to be satisfied with the rough annoyances of camp lifeinstead of being able to put in practice the pleasant precepts of hisphilosophy. He was finally permitted to return to Paris with his headsafe upon his shoulders, and flattered himself with the idea that hecould now make up for lost time, promising himself to enjoy to thefull the advantages offered by his daughter's establishment. Heembraced his daughter with the liveliest pleasure imaginable, takingupon himself all the credit for her great reputation as due to hisefforts and to his philosophical training. He was flattered at thesuccess of his lessons and entered upon a life of joyous pleasure withas much zest as though in the bloom of his youth. It proved too muchfor a constitution weakened by the fatigues of years of arduousmilitary campaigns and he succumbed, the flesh overpowered by thespirit, and took to his bed, where he soon reached a condition thatleft his friends no hope of his recuperation. 

Aware that the end was approaching, he sent for his daughter, whohastened to his side and shed torrents of tears. But he bade herremember the lessons she had learned from his philosophy, and wishingto give her one more lesson, said in an almost expiring voice:

"Approach nearer, Ninon; you see nothing left me but a sad memory ofthe pleasures that are leaving me. Their possession was not of longduration, and that is the only complaint I have to make againstnature. But, alas! my regrets are vain. You who must survive me, utilize precious time, and have no scruples about the quantity of yourpleasures, but only of their quality. "

Saying which, he immediately expired. The philosophical securityexhibited by her father in his very last moments, inspired Ninon withthe same calmness of spirit, and she bore his loss with equanimity, disdaining to exhibit any immoderate grief lest she dishonor hismemory and render herself an unworthy daughter and pupil. 

The fortune left her by her father was not so considerable as Ninonhad expected. It had been very much diminished by extravagance andspeculation, but as she had in mind de la Rochefoucauld's maxim:"There are some good marriages, but no delicious ones, " and did notcontemplate ever wearing the chains of matrimony, she deposited herfortune in the sinking funds, reserving an income of about eightthousand livres per annum as sufficient to maintain her beyond thereach of want. From this time on she abandoned herself to a life ofpleasure, well regulated, it must be confessed, and in strictaccordance with her Epicurean ideas. Her light heartedness increasedwith her love and devotion to pleasure, which is not astonishing, asthere are privileged souls who do not lose their tender emotions bysuch a pursuit, though those souls are rare. Ninon's unrestrainedfreedom, and the privilege she claimed to enjoy all the rights whichmen assumed, did not give her the slightest uneasiness. It was herlovers who became anxious unless they regulated their love accordingto the rules she established for them to follow, rules which it cannot be denied, were held in as much esteem then as nowadays. Thefollowing anecdote will serve as an illustration:

The Marquis de la Châtre had been one of her lovers for anunconscionably long period, but never seemed to cool in his fidelity. Duty, however, called him away from Ninon's arms, but he wasdistressed with the thought that his absence would be to hisdisadvantage. He was afraid to leave her lest some rival should appearupon the scene and dispossess him in her affections. Ninon vainlyendeavored to remove his suspicions. 

"No, cruel one, " he said, "you will forget and betray me. I know yourheart, it alarms me, crushes me. It is still faithful to my love, Iknow, and I believe you are not deceiving me at this moment. But thatis because I am with you and can personally talk of my love. Who willrecall 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 inmy heart, and absence will be to me a new fire to consume me; but toyou, absence is the end of affection. Every object I shall imagine Isee around you will be odious to me, but to you they will beinteresting. "

Ninon could not deny that there was truth in the Marquis' logic, butshe was too tender to assassinate his heart which she knew to be soloving. Being a woman she understood perfectly the art ofdissimulation, which is a necessary accomplishment, a thousandcircumstances requiring its exercise for the sake of her security, peace, and comfort. Moreover, she did not at the moment dream ofdeceiving him; there was no present occasion, nobody else she had inmind. Ninon thought rapidly, but could not find any reason forbetraying him, and therefore assured him of her fidelity andconstancy. 

Nevertheless, the amorous Marquis, who might have relied upon thesolemn promise of his mistress, had it not been for the intense fearswhich were ever present in his mind, and becoming more violent as thehour for his departure drew nearer, required something moresubstantial than words. But what could he exact? Ah! an idea, a novelexpedient occurred to his mind, one which he imagined would restrainthe most obstinate inconstancy. 

"Listen, Ninon, you are without contradiction a remarkable woman. Ifyou once do a thing you will stand to it. What will tend to quiet mymind and remove my fears, ought to be your duty to accept, because myhappiness is involved and that is more to you than love; it is yourown philosophy, Ninon. Now, I wish you to put in writing that you willremain faithful to me, and maintain the most inviolable fidelity. Iwill dictate it in the strongest form and in the most sacred termsknown to human promises. I will not leave you until I have obtainedsuch a pledge of your constancy, which is necessary to relieve myanxiety, and essential to my repose. "

Ninon vainly argued that this would be something too strange andnovel, foolish, in fact, the Marquis was obstinate and finallyovercame her remonstrances. She wrote and signed a written pledgesuch 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 themost dangerous men of her acquaintance. Skilled in the art of love, hehad often pressed his suit, but Ninon had other engagements and wouldnot listen to him. But now, his rival being out of the field, heresumed his entreaties and increased his ardor. He was a man toinspire love, but Ninon resisted, though his pleading touched herheart. Her eyes at last betrayed her love and she was vanquishedbefore she realized the outcome of the struggle. 

What was the astonishment of the conqueror, who was enjoying thefruits 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 wholestory, which was too good to keep secret, and soon the "billet de laChâtre" became, in the mouth of everybody, a saying applied to thingsupon which it is not wise to rely. Voltaire, to preserve so charmingan incident, has embalmed it in his comedy of la Prude, act I, sceneIII. Ninon merely followed the rule established by Madame de Sévigné:"Les femmes ont permission d'être faibles, et elles se servent sansscrupule de ce privilège. "

CHAPTER IX

Ninon's Friendships

Mademoiselle de l'Enclos never forgot a friend in a lover, indeed, thetrait that stands out clear and strong in her character, is her wholehearted friendship for the men she loved, and she bestowed it uponthem as long as they lived, for she outlived nearly all of them, andcherished their memories afterward. As has been said, Ninon del'Enclos was Epicurean in the strictest sense, and did not rest herentire happiness on love alone, but included a friendship which wentto the extent of making sacrifices. The men with whom she came incontact from time to time during her long life, were nothing to herfrom a pecuniary point of view, for she possessed an incomesufficiently large to satisfy her wants and to maintain the socialestablishment she never neglected. 

There was never, either directly or indirectly, any moneyconsideration asked or expected in payment of her favors, and the manwho would have dared offer her money as a consideration for anything, would have met with scorn and contempt and been expelled from herhouse and society without ever being permitted to regain either. Thenatural wants of her heart and mind, and what she was pleased to callthe natural gratifications of physical wants, were her mentors, and tothem she listened, never dreaming of holding them at a pecuniaryvalue. 

One of her dearest friends was Scarron, once the husband of Madame deMaintenon, the pious leader of a debased court and the saintlymistress of the king of France. In his younger days, Scarroncontributed largely to the pleasures of the Oiseaux des Tournelles, the ecclesiastical collar he then wore not being sufficient to preventhis enjoying worldly pleasures. 

In the course of time Scarron fell ill, and was reduced to a dreadfulcondition, no one coming to his succor but Ninon. Like a tender, compassionate friend, she sympathized deeply with him, when he wascarried to the suburb Saint Germain to try the effects of the baths asan alleviation of his pains. Scarron did not complain, on thecontrary, he was cheerful and always gay even when suffering tortures. There was little left of him, however, but an indomitable spiritburning in a crushed tenement of mortal clay. Not being able to cometo her, Ninon went to him, and passed entire days at his side. Notonly that, she brought her friends with her and established a smallcourt around his bed, thus cheering him in his pain and doing him aworld of good, which finally enabled his spirit to triumph over hismortal shell. 

Instances might be multiplied, enough to fill a volume, of herdevotion to her friends, whom she never abandoned and whom she wasalways ready with purse and counsel to aid in their difficulties. Acurious instance is that of Nicolas Vauquelin, sieur de Desyvetaux, whom she missed from her circle for several days. Aware that he hadbeen having some family troubles, and that his fortune was menaced, she became alarmed, thinking that perhaps some misfortune had comeupon him, for which reason she resolved to seek him and help him outof his difficulties. But Ninon was mistaken in supposing that so wiseand gay an Epicurean could be crushed by any sorrow or trouble. Desyvetaux was enjoying himself in so singular a fashion that it isworth telling. 

This illustrious Epicurean, finding one night a young girl in afainting condition at his door, brought her into his house to succorher, moved by an impulse of humanity. But as soon as she had recoveredher senses, the philosopher's heart was touched by her beauty. Toplease her benefactor the girl played several selections on a harp andaccompanied the instrument with a charming and seductive voice. 

Desyvetaux, who was a passionate admirer of music, was captivated bythis accomplishment, and suddenly conceived the desire to spend therest of his days in the company of this charming singer. It was notdifficult for a girl who had been making it her business to frequentthe wineshops of the suburbs with a brother, earning a precariousliving by singing and playing on the harp, to accept such aproposition, and consent to bestow happiness upon an excessivelyamorous man, who offered to share with her a luxurious and tranquillife in one of the finest residences in the suburb Saint Germain. 

Although most of his life had been passed at court as the governor ofM. De Vendôme, and tutor of Louis XIII, he had always desired to leada life of peace and quiet in retirement. The pleasures of a sylvanlife which he had so often described in his lectures, ended by leadinghis mind in that direction. The young girl he found on his doorstephad offered him his first opportunity to have a Phyllis to his Corydonand he eagerly embraced it. Both yielded to the fancy, she dressed inthe garb of a shepherdess, he playing the rôle of Corydon at the ageof seventy years. 

Sometimes stretched out on a carpet of verdure, he listened to theenchanting music she drew from her instrument, or drank in the sweetvoice of his shepherdess singing melodious pastorals. A flock ofbirds, charmed with this harmony, left their cages to caress withtheir wings, Dupuis' harp, or intoxicated with joy, fluttered downinto her bosom. This little gallantry in which they had been trainedwas a delicious spectacle to the shepherd philosopher and intoxicatedhis senses. He fancied he was guiding with his mistress innumerablebands of intermingled sheep; their conversation was in tender ecloguescomposed by them both extemporaneously, the attractive surroundingsinspiring them with poetry. 

Ninon was amazed when she found her "bon homme, " as she called him, inthe startlingly original disguise of a shepherd, a crook in his hand, a wallet hanging by his side, and a great flapping straw hat, trimmedwith rose colored silk on his head. Her first impression was that hehad taken leave of his senses, and she was on the point of sheddingtears over the wreck of a once brilliant mind, when Desyvetaux, suspending his antics long enough to look about him, perceived her andrushed to her side with the liveliest expressions of joy. He removedher suspicions of his sanity by explaining his metamorphosis in aphilosophical fashion:

"You know, my dear Ninon, there are certain tastes and pleasures whichfind their justification in a certain philosophy when they bear allthe marks of moral innocence. Nothing can be said against them buttheir singularity. There are no amusements less dangerous than thosewhich do not resemble those generally indulged in by the multitude. "

Ninon was pleased with the amiable companion of her old friend. Herfigure, her mental attainments, and her talents enchanted her, andDesyvetaux, who appeared in a ridiculous light when she first saw himin 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 oflife, which she could not avoid at this moment, however, asconsidering more agreeable than the new one he had adopted. But whatcould she offer in the way of superior seductive pleasures to a pairwho had tasted pure and natural enjoyments? The vain amusements andallurements of the world have no sympathy with anything butdissipation, in which, the mind, yielding to the fleeting seductionsof art, leaves the heart empty as soon as the illusion disappears. 

The strange conduct of Desyvetaux gave birth to numerous reflectionsof this nature in Ninon's mind, but she did not cease to be hisfriend, on the contrary, she entered into the spirit of his simplelife and visited him from time to time to enjoy the spectacle of sucha tender masquerade which Desyvetaux continued up to the time of hisdeath. It gave Mademoiselle Dupuis nearly as much celebrity as herlover attained, for when the end came, she obeyed his desire to play afavorite dance on her harp, to enable his soul to take flight in themidst of its delicious harmony. It should be mentioned, thatDesyvetaux wore in his hat as long as he lived, a yellow ribbon, "outof 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 theirdeath agony. The Abbé Brantôme relates an interesting story of thedeath of Mademoiselle de Lineul, the elder, one of the queen'sdaughters, which resembles that of Desyvetaux. 

"When the hour of her death had arrived, " says Brantôme, "Mademoisellesent for her valet, Julian, who could play the violin to perfection. 'Julian, ' quoth she, 'take your violin and play on it until you see medead--for I am going--the Defeat of the Swiss, and play it as well asyou 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 theother did. And when he came to 'tout est perdu' she sang it overtwice; then turning to the other side of the couch, she said to thosewho stood around: 'Tout est perdu à ce coup et à bon escient;' all islost this time, sure. '"

CHAPTER X

Some of Ninon's Lovers

Notwithstanding her love of pleasure, and her admiration for thesociety of men, Ninon was never vulgar or common in the distributionof her favors, but selected those upon whom she decided to bestowthem, with the greatest care and discrimination. As has been alreadysaid, she discovered in early life, that women were at a discount, andshe resolved to pursue the methods of men in the acceptance orrejection of friendship, and in distributing her favors andinfluences. As she herself declared:

"I soon saw that women were put off with the most frivolous and unrealprivileges, while every solid advantage was retained by the strongersex. From that moment I determined on abandoning my own sex andassuming that of the men. "

So well did she carry out this determination that she was regarded byher masculine intimates as one of themselves, and whatever pleasuresthey enjoyed in her society, were enjoyed upon the same principle asthey would have delighted in a good dinner, an agreeable theatricalperformance, or exquisite music. 

To her and to all her associates, love was a taste emanating from thesenses, a blind sentiment which assumes no merit in the object whichgives it birth, as is the case of hunger, thirst, and the like. In aword, it was merely a caprice the domination of which depends uponourselves, and is subject to the discomforts and regrets attendantupon repletion or indulgence. 

After her first experience with de Coligny, which was an abandonmentof her cold philosophy for a passionate attachment she thought wouldendure forever, Ninon cast aside all that element in love which isconnected with passion and extravagant sentiment, and adhered to herphilosophical understanding of it, and kept it in its proper place inthe category of natural appetites. To illustrate her freedom frompassionate attachments in the distribution of her favors, the case ofher friend Scarron will give an insight into her philosophy. Scarronhad received numerous favors from her, and being one of her select"Birds, " who had always agreed with la Rochefoucauld that, "There aremany good marriages but none that are delicious, " she assumed that herfriend would never entangle himself in the bonds of matrimony. But hedid and to his sorrow. 

When Ninon had returned to Paris after a long sojourn with the Marquisde Villarceaux, she found to her astonishment that Scarron had marriedthe amiable but ignoble Mademoiselle d'Aubigne. This young lady was ina situation which precluded all hope of her ever attaining socialeminence, but aspiring to rise, notwithstanding her common origin, shemarried Scarron as the first step upon the social ladder. Withoutrealizing that this woman was to become the celebrated Madame deMaintenon, mistress of the king and the real power behind the throne, Ninon took her in charge and they soon became the closest and mostaffectionate friends, always together even occupying the same bed. Ninon's tender friendship for the husband continued in spite of hisgrave violation of the principles of his accepted philosophy, and whenhe was deserted, sick and helpless, she went to him and brought himcheer and comfort. 

Ninon was so little imbued with jealousy that when she discovered aliaison between her own lover, Marquis de Villarceaux and her friend, Madame Scarron, she was not even angry. The two were carrying on theiramour in secret, and as they supposed without Ninon's knowledge, whosepresence, indeed, they deemed a restraint upon their freedom ofaction. The Marquis considered himself a traitor to Ninon, and MadameScarron stood in fear of her reproaches for her betrayal. But Ninon, instead of taking either of them to task, as she would have beenjustified in doing, gently remonstrated with them for their secrecy, and by her kindness reassured both of them and relieved them fromtheir embarrassment, making them understand that she desired nothingso much as their happiness. Both the Marquis and his mistress madeNinon their confidante, and thereafter lived in perfect amity untilthe lovers grew tired of each other, Madame Scarron aiming higher thanan ordinary Marquis, now that she saw her way clear to mounting thesocial ladder. 

It was perhaps due to Ninon's kindness in the Villarceaux episode, that enabled her to retain the friendship of Madame de Maintenon whenthe latter had reached the steps of the throne. The mistress ofroyalty endeavored to persuade Ninon to appear at court but there wastoo great a difference in temper and constitution between the twocelebrated women to admit of any close relations. Ninon made use ofthe passion of love for the purpose of pleasure only, while her moreexalted rival made it subservient to her ambitious projects, and didnot hesitate with that view to cloak her licentious habits beneath themantle of religion, and add hypocrisy to frailty. The income of Ninonde l'Enclos was agreeably and judiciously spent in the society of menof wit and letters, but the revenues of the Marchioness de Maintenonwere squandered on the useless decoration of her own person, orhoarded for the purpose of elevating into rank and notice aninsignificant family, who had no other claim to such distinction thanthat derived from the easy honesty of a female relation, and thedissolute extravagance of a vain and licentious sovereign. 

While Ninon de l'Enclos was receiving and encouraging the attentionsof the most distinguished men of her time, literati, nobles, warriors, statesmen, and sages, in her house in the Rue des Tournelles, themistress of the sovereign, the dear friend who had betrayed her to theMarquis de Villarceaux, was swallowing, at Versailles, the adulationsof degraded courtiers of every rank and profession. There were mettogether there the vain and the ambitious, the designing and thefoolish, the humblest and the proudest of those who, whether proud orhumble, or ambitious, or vain, or crafty, were alike the devotedservants 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 lowestunderlings 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 royalappetite. This was the order of things that Ninon de l'Enclos wascontending against, and that she succeeded by methods that must beconsidered saintly compared with the others, stands recorded in thepages of history. 

After Ninon had suffered from the indiscretion of the lover who madepublic the story of the famous pledge given la Châtre, she lost herfancy for the recreant, and though friendly, refused any closer tie. He knew that he had done Ninon an injury and begged to be reinstatedin her favor. He was of charming manners and fascinating in hispleading, but he made no impression on her heart. She agreed to pardonhim for his folly and declined to consider the matter further. Norwould she return to the conversation, although he persisted inreferring to the matter as one he deeply regretted. When he wasdeparting after Ninon had assured him of her pardon, she ran after himand 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, veryfew venturing to lampoon her. Those who did so were greeted with somuch derisive laughter that they were ashamed to appear in societyuntil the storm had blown over. 

M. De Tourielle, a member of the French Academy, and a very learnedman, became enamored of her and his love-making assumed a curiousphase. To show her that he was worthy of her consideration, he deemedit incumbent upon him to read her long dissertations on scientificsubjects, and bored her incessantly with a translation of the orationsof Demosthenes, which he intended dedicating to her in an elaboratepreface. This was more than Ninon could bear with equanimity--a loverwith so much erudition, and his prosy essays, appealed more to hersense of humor than to her sentiments of love, and he was laughed outof her social circle. This angered the Academician and he thought torevenge himself by means of an epigram in which he charged Ninon withadmiring figures of rhetoric more than a sensible academic discoursefull of Greek and Latin quotations. It would have proved the ruin ofthe poor man had Ninon not come to his rescue, and explained to himthe difference between learning and love. After which he becamesensible and wrote some very good books. 

It should be understood that Ninon had no secrets in which her merryand wise "Birds" did not share. She confided to them all her loveaffairs, gave them the names of her suitors, in fact, every wooer wasturned over to this critical, select society, as a committee ofinvestigation into quality and merit both of mind and body. In thisway she was protected from the unworthy, and when she made aselection, they respected her freedom of choice, carefully guardingher lover and making him one of themselves after the fitful fever wasover. They were all graduates in her school, good fellows, and hadaccepted Ninon's philosophy without question. 

Her lovers were always men of rank and station or of high talents, butshe was caught once by the dazzle of a famous dancer named Pécour, whopleased her exceedingly, and who became the fortunate rival of the Ducde Choiseul, afterward a marshal of France. It happened that Choiseulwas more remarkable for his valor than for his probity and solidvirtues, and could not inspire in Ninon's heart anything but thesterile sentiments of esteem and respect. He was certainly worthy ofthese, 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 achance to love him. "

The frequent visits of Pécour excited the jealousy of the warrior, buthe did not dare complain, not knowing whether things had reached aclimax and fearing that if he should mention the matter he might helpthem along instead of stopping them. One day, however, he attempted togoad his unworthy rival into some admission, and received a responsethat was enough to settle his doubts. 

Pécour was in the habit of wearing a costume much resembling that ofthe military dandies of the period. Choiseul meeting him in thisequivocal garb, proceeded to be funny at his expense by putting to himall sorts of ironical and embarrassing questions. But Pécour felt allthe vanity of a successful rival and was good natured. Then the Dukebegan to make sneering remarks which roused the dancer's anger. 

"Pray, what flag are you fighting under, and what body do youcommand?" asked Monseigneur with a sarcastic smile. 

Quick as a flash came the answer which gave the Duke an inkling intothe situation. 

"Je commande un corps où vous servez depuis longtemps, " repliedPécour. 

CHAPTER XI

Ninon's Lovers--Continued

A counter attraction has been referred to in speaking of the HôtelRambouillet, where a fashionable court was established for the purposeof drawing away from Ninon the elite who flocked to her standard. Mademoiselle de Scudery gives a fine description of this little courtat Rambouillet in her romance, entitled "Cyrus. " There was not andcould not be any rivalry between the court in the Rue des Tournellesand that at Rambouillet, for the reason that Ninon's coterie consistedof men exclusively, while that of Rambouillet was thronged with women. But this, quite naturally, occasioned much envy and jealousy among theladies who devised all sorts of entertainments to attract masculinesociety. One of their performances was the famous "Julia Garland, " sonamed in honor of Mademoiselle de Rambouillet, who was known by thename of "Julie d'Angennes. " Each one selected a favorite flower, wrotea sonnet in its praise, and when all were ready, they stood aroundMademoiselle de Rambouillet in a circle and alternately recited thepoem, the reward for the best one being the favor of some fair lady. Among those who were drawn to the Hôtel Rambouillet by this pleasingentertainment was the Duke d'Enghien, afterward known as the "GreatCondé, " a prince of the highest renown as a victorious warrior. Hewas a great acquisition, and the Garland Play was repeated every nightin the expectation that his pleasure would continue, and the constantattraction prove adequate to hold him. Once or twice, however, wassufficient for the Duke, its constant repetition becoming flat andtiresome. He did not scruple to express his dissatisfaction with asociety that could not originate something new. He was a broad mindedman, with a comprehensive knowledge, but had little taste for poetryand childish entertainments. But the good ladies of Rambouillet, unable to devise any other entertainment, persisted in their GarlandPlay, until the Duke's human nature rebelled at the monotony, and hebegged his friends de Moissens and Saint-Evremond to suggest somerelief. They immediately brought him in touch with the Birds of theTournelles, with the result that he abandoned the Hôtel Rambouilletand found scope for his social desires at Ninon's house and in hermore attractive society. The conquest of his heart followed that ofhis intelligence, the hero of Rocroi being unable to resist atenderness which is the glory of a lover and the happiness of hismistress. 

It is a curious fact, known to some, that all the heroes of Bellonaare not expert in the wars of Venus, the strongest and most valiantsouls 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 ofMars. To that all his training had tended, but notwithstanding hisrobust physique, and the indicia of great strength with which naturehad endowed him, he was a weakling in the field of Venus. He camewithin the category of a Latin proverb with which Ninon was familiar:"Pilosus aut fortis, aut libidinosus. " (A hairy man is either strongor sensual. ) Wherefore, one day when Ninon was enjoying his society, she looked at him narrowly and exclaimed: "Ah, Monseigneur, il fautque vous soyez bien fort!" (Ah, Monseigneur, you must be very strong. )

Notwithstanding this, the two dwelt together for a long time inperfect harmony, the intellectual benefit the Duke derived from theclose intimacy being no less than the pleasure he derived from heraffection. Naturally inclined to deserve the merit and esteem as wellas the love of her admirers, Ninon used all the influence shepossessed to regulate their lives and to inspire them with the truedesire to perform faithfully the duties of their rank and station. What power over her intimates does not possess a charming womandisembarrassed of conventional prudery, but vested with grace, highsentiments, and mental attainments! It was through the gentle exerciseof this power that the famous Aspasia graved in the soul of Periclesthe seductive art of eloquent language, and taught him the most solidmaxims of politics, maxims of which he made so noble a use. 

The young Duke, penetrated with love and esteem for Ninon, passed ather side every moment he could steal away from the profound studiesand occupations required by his rank and position. Although heafterward became the Prince de Condé, the Lion of his time, and thebulwark of France, he never ceased expressing for her the liveliestgratitude and friendship. Whenever he met her equipage in the streetsof Paris, he never failed to descend from his own and go to pay herthe most affectionate compliments. 

The Prince de Marsillac, afterward the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, lessphilosophical then than later in life, and who prided himself on hisacquaintance with all the vices and follies of youth, could not longwithhold his admiration for the solid and estimable qualities heperceived in Ninon, whom he often saw in the company of the Duked'Enghein. The result of his admiration was that he formed a tenderattachment which lasted as long as he lived. It was Ninon whocontinued the good work begun by Madame de La Fayette, who confessedthat her social relations with la Rochefoucauld had been the means ofembellishing her mind, and that in compensation for this great serviceshe had reformed his heart. Whatever share Madame de La Fayette mayhave had in reforming the heart of this great man, it is certain thatNinon de l'Enclos had much to do with reforming his morals andelevating his mind up to the point it is evident he reached, to judgefrom his "Maxims, " in which the human heart is bared as with a scalpelin the most skilfully devised epigrams that never cease to hold theinterest of every reader. 

Chapelle, the most celebrated voluptuary in Paris, did everything inhis power to overcome Ninon's repugnance, but without success. Therewas nothing lacking in his mental attainments, for he was a poet ofvery high order, inimitable in his style; moreover, he was presentablein his person. Yet he could not make the slightest impression onNinon's heart. He openly declared his love, and, receiving constantrebuffs, resolved to have revenge and overcome her resistance bypunishing her. This he attempted to do in a very singular mannerwithout regard to consistency. 

All Paris knew his verses in which he did not conceal his ardent lovefor Ninon, and in which were expressed the highest admiration for herestimable qualities and the depth of her philosophy. He now proceededto take back everything good he had said about her and made fun of herlove, her friendship, and her attainments. He ridiculed her in everypossible manner, even charging up against her beauty, her age. A verseor so will enable the reader to understand his methods:

"Il ne faut pas qu'on s'étonne, Si souvent elle raisonneDe la sublime vertuDont Platon fut revêtu:Car à bien compter son âge, Elle peut avoir vécuAvec ce grand personnage. "

Or, substantially in the English language:

Let no one be surprised, If she should be advisedOf the virtue most renownedIn 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 anunsuccessful suitor, hence she only laughed at Chapelle's effusionsand all Paris laughed with her. The truth is, la Rochefoucauld hadimpressed her mind with that famous saying of his: "Old age is thehell of women, " and not fearing any hell, reference to her age neitheralarmed her, nor caused the slightest flurry in her peaceful life. Shewas too philosophical to regret the loss of what she did not esteem ofany value, and saw Chapelle slipping away from her with tranquillityof mind. It was only during moments of gayety when she abandonedherself 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 haveadvised him to put the wrinkles of old age where the gods of Pagandomhad located the feeble spot in Achilles. 

If Ninon ever felt a pang on account of the ungenerous conduct ofChapelle, his disciple, the illustrious Abbé de Chaulieu, the Anacreonof the age, who was called, when he made his entrée into the world ofletters "the poet of good fellowship, " more than compensated her forthe injury done by his pastor. The Abbé was the Prior of Fontenay, whither Ninon frequently accompanied Madame the Duchess de Bouillonand the Chevalier d'Orléans. The Duchess loved to joke at the expenseof the Abbé, and twit him about his wasted talents, which were moreadapted to love than to his present situation. It may be that theworthy Abbé, after thinking over seriously what was intended to be amere pleasantry, concluded that Madame the Duchess was right, and thathe possessed some talent in the direction of love. However that might, have been, it is certain that he had cast an observant and criticaleye on Ninon, and he now openly paid her court, not unsuccessfully itshould be known. 

The Abbé Gedoyn was her last lover so far as there is any account ofher amours. The story is related by Remond, surnamed "The Greek, " andmust be taken with a grain of salt as Ninon was at that timeseventy-nine years of age. This Remond, notwithstanding her age, hadmade violent love to Ninon without meeting with any success. Perhapshe was trying an experiment, being a learned man, anxious to ascertainwhen the fire of passion became extinct in the human breast. Ninonevidently suspected his ardent professions for she refused to listento him and forbade his visits altogether. 

"I was the dupe of his Greek erudition, " she explained, "so I banishedhim from my school. He was always wrong in his philosophy of theworld, and was unworthy of as sensible a society as mine. " She oftenadded to this: "After God had made man, he repented him; I feel thesame about Rémond. "

But to return to the Abbé Gedoyn: he left the Jesuits with the AbbéFraguier in 1694, that is to say, when Mademoiselle de l'Enclos wasseventy-eight years of age. Both of them immediately made theacquaintance of Ninon and Madame de la Salière, and, astonished at theprofound merit they discovered, deemed it to their advantage tofrequent their society for the purpose of adding to their talentssomething which the study of the cloister and experience in the king'scabinet itself had never offered them. Abbé Gedoyn became particularlyattached to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whose good taste andintellectual lights he considered such sure and safe guides. Hisgratitude soon received the additions of esteem and admiration, andthe young disciple felt the growth of desires which it is difficult tobelieve were real, but which became so pressing, that they revived ina heart nearly extinct a feeble spark of that fire with which it hadformerly burned. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos refused to accede to thedesires of her lover until she was fully eighty years of age, a termwhich did not cool the ardor of the amorous Abbé, who waitedimpatiently and on her eightieth birthday compelled his benefactressto keep her word. 

This incident recalls the testimony of a celebrated Countess ofSalisbury, who was called to testify as an expert upon the subject oflove in a celebrated criminal case that was tried over a hundred yearsago in the English House of Lords. The woman correspondent was of anage when human passion is supposed to be extinct, and her counsel wasattempting to prove that fact to relieve her from the charge. Thetestimony of the aged Countess, who was herself over seventy-fiveyears of age, was very unsatisfactory, and the court put this questionto her demanding an explicit answer. 

"Madame, " he inquired, "at what age does the sentiment, passion, ordesire of love cease in the female heart?"

Her ladyship, who had lived long in high society and had beenacquainted with all of the gallants and coquettes of the English courtfor nearly two generations, and who, herself, had sometimes beensuspected of not having been averse to a little waywardness, lookeddown at her feet for a moment thoughtfully, then raising her eyes andlocking 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 rankand leaders with a large following. They were all her dearest friends, however, and no matter how strong personal passion was beyond herimmediate presence, her circle was a neutral ground which no onethought of violating. It required her utmost influence and tenderness, however, to prevent outbreaks, but her unvarying sweetness of temperand disposition to all won their hearts into a truce for her sake. There were continual plots hatched against the stern rule ofRichelieu, cabals and conspiracies without number were entered upon, but none of them resulted in anything. Richelieu knew very well whatwas going on, and he realized perfectly that Ninon's drawing-roomswere the center of every scheme concocted to drag him down and out ofthe dominant position he was holding against the combined nobility ofFrance. But he never took a step toward suppressing her little courtas a hot-bed of restlessness, he rather encouraged her by his silenceand his indifference. Complaints of her growing coterie of uneasyspirits brought nothing from him but: "As long as they find amusementsthey are not dangerous. " It was the forerunner of Napoleon's ideaalong the same line: "We must amuse the people; then they will notmeddle with our management of the government. "

It is preposterous to think of this minister of peace, this restlessprelate, half soldier, half pastor, meddling in all these cabals andseditious schemes organized for his own undoing, but nevertheless, hewas really the fomenter of all of them. They were his devices forpreventing the nobility from combining against him. He set one cabalto watch another, and there was never a conspiracy entered into thathe did not prepare a similar conspiracy through his numerous secretagents and thus split into harmless nothings and weak attempts whatwould have been fatal to a continuance of his power. His tricks werenothing but the ordinary everyday methods of the modern wardpolitician making the dear people believe he is doing one thing whenhe is doing another. The stern man pitted one antagonist againstanother until both sued for peace and pardon. The nobility were honestin their likes and dislikes, but they did not understand doubledealings and therefore the craft of Richelieu was not even suspected. 

Soon he corrupted by his secret intrigues the fidelity of the noblesand destroyed the integrity of the people. Then it was, as Cyranosays: "The world saw billows of scum vomited upon the royal purple andupon that of the church. " Vile rhyming poets, without merit or virtue, sold their villainous productions to the enemies of the state to beused in goading the people to riot. Obscene and filthy vaudevilles, defamatory libels and infamous slanders were as common as bread, andwere hurled back and forth as evidence of an internecine strife whichwas raging around the wearer of the Roman scarlet, who was therebyjustified in continuing his ecclesiastical rule to prevent thewrecking of the throne. 

Ninon had always been an ardent supporter of the throne, and on thataccount imagined herself to be the enemy of Richelieu. There were manyothers who believed the same thing. They did not know that should thegreat Cardinal withdraw his hand for a single moment there would notbe any more throne. When the human hornets around him became annoyinghe was accustomed to pretend to withdraw his sustaining hand, then thethrone would tremble and totter, but he always came to the rescue;indeed, there was no other man who could rescue it. Cabals, plots, andconspiracies became so thick around Ninon at one period that she wasfrightened. Scarron's house became a rendezvous for the factious andturbulent. Madame Scarron was aiming at the throne, that is, she wasopening the way to capture the heart of the king. This was too muchfor Ninon, who was more modest in her ambitions, and she fledfrightened. 

The Marquis de Villarceaux received her with open arms at his châteausome distance from Paris, and that was her home for three years. Therewere loud protests at this desertion from her coterie of friends, andnumerous dark threats were uttered against the gallant Marquis who hadthus captured the queen of the "Birds, " but Ninon explained herreason in such a plausible manner that their complaints subsided intogood-natured growls. She hoped to prevent a political conflagrationemanating from her social circle by scattering the firebrands, and shesucceeded admirably. The Marquis was constantly with her, permittingnobody to intervene between them, and provided her with a perpetualround of amusements that made the time pass very quickly. Moreover, she was faithful to the Marquis, so wonderful a circumstance that herfriend and admirer wrote an elegy upon that circumstance, in which hedraws a picture of the pleasures of the ancients in ruralizing, butreproaches Ninon for indulging in a passion for so long a period tothe detriment of her other friends and admirers. But Ninon was happyin attaining the summit of her desire, which was to defeat MadameScarron, her rival in the affections of the Marquis, keeping thelatter by her side for three whole years as has already been said. 

However delighted Ninon may have been with this arrangement, theMarquis, himself, did not repose upon a bed of roses. The jealousy ofthe "Birds" gave him no respite, he being obliged in honor to respondto their demands for an explanation of his conduct in carrying offtheir leader, generally insisting upon the so-called field of honor asthe most appropriate place for giving a satisfactory answer. They eveninvaded his premises until they forced him to make them someconcessions in the way of permission to see the object of theiradmiration, and to share in her society. The Marquis was proud of hisconquest, the very idea of a three years' tête à tête with the mostvolatile heart in France being sufficient to justify him in boastingof his prowess, but whenever he ventured to do so a champion on thepart of Ninon always stood ready to make him either eat his words orfight to maintain them. 

Madame Scarron, whom he so basely deserted for the superior charms ofher friend Ninon, often gave him a bad quarter of an hour. When shebecame the mistress of the king and, as Madame de Maintenon, reallyheld the reins of power, visions of the Bastile thronged his brain. Heknew perfectly well that he had scorned the charms of Madame Scarron, who believed them irresistible, and that he deserved whateverpunishment she might inflict upon him. She might have procured alettre de cachet, had him immured in a dungeon or his head removedfrom his shoulders as easily as order a dinner, but she did nothing togratify a spirit of revenge, utterly ignoring his existence. 

Added to these trifling circumstances, trifling in comparison withwhat follows, was the furious jealousy of his wife, Madame laMarquise. She was violently angry and did not conceal her hatred forthe woman who had stolen her husband's affections. The Marquise was atrifle vulgar and common in her manner of manifesting her displeasure, but the Marquis, a very polite and affable gentleman, did not pay theslightest attention to his wife's daily recriminations, but continuedto amuse himself with the charming Ninon. 

Under such circumstances each was compelled to have a separate socialcircle, the Marquis entertaining his friends with the adorable Ninonas the center of attraction, and Madame la Marquise doing her best tooffer counter attractions. Somehow, Ninon drew around her all the mostdesirable partis among the flower of the nobility and wits, leavingthe social circle managed by la Marquise to languish for want ofstamina. It was a constant source of annoyance to the Marquise to seeher rival's entertainments so much in repute and her own so poorlyattended, and she was at her wits' end to devise something that wouldgive them éclat. One of her methods, and an impromptu scene at one ofher drawing-rooms, will serve to show the reason why Madame laMarquise was not in good repute and why she could not attract theélite 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 grandreception, some of her guests desired to see her young son, of whomshe was very proud, and of whose talents and virtues she was alwaysboasting. He was sent for and came into the presence accompanied byhis tutor, an Italian savant who never left his side. From praisinghis beauty of person, they passed to his mental qualities. Madame laMarquise, enchanted at the caresses her son was receiving and aimingto create a sensation by showing off his learning, took it into herhead to have his tutor put him through an examination in history. 

"Interrogate my son upon some of his recent lessons in history, " saidshe to the tutor, who was not at all loth to show his own attainmentsby the brilliancy of his pupil. 

"Come, now, Monsieur le Marquis, " said the tutor with alacrity, "Quemhabuit successorem Belus rex Assiriorum?" (Whom did Belus, king of theAssyrians, have for successor?)

It so happened that the tutor had taught the boy to pronounce theLatin language after the Italian fashion. Wherefore, when the ladanswered "Ninum, " who was really the successor of Belus, king of theAssyrians, he pronounced the last two letters "um" like the Frenchnasal "on, " which gave the name of the Assyrian king the same sound asthat of Ninon de l'Enclos, the terrible bête noir of the jealousMarquise. This was enough to set her off into a spasm of fury againstthe luckless tutor, who could not understand why he should be soberated over a simple question and its correct answer. The Marquisenot understanding Latin, and guided only by the sound of the answer, which was similar to the name of her hated rival, jumped at theconclusion that he was answering some question about Ninon del'Enclos. 

"You are giving my son a fine education, " she snapped out before allher guests, "by entertaining him with the follies of his father. Fromthe answer of the young Marquis I judge of the impertinence of yourquestion. Go, leave my sight, and never enter it again. "

The unfortunate tutor vainly protested that he did not comprehend heranger, that he meant no affront, that there was no other answer to bemade than "Ninum, " unfortunately, again pronouncing the word "Ninon, "which nearly sent the lady into a fit of apoplexy with rage at hearingthe tabooed name repeated in her presence. The incensed woman carriedthe scene to a ridiculous point, refusing to listen to reason orexplanation. 

"No, he said 'Ninon, ' and Ninon it was. "

The story spread all over Paris, and when it reached Ninon, shelaughed immoderately, her friends dubbing her "The successor ofBelus. " Ninon told Molière the ridiculous story and he turned it toprofit in one of his comedies in the character of Countessd'Escarbagnas. 

At the expiration of three years, peace had come to France after afashion, the cabals were not so frequent and the rivalry between thefactions not so bitter. Whatever differences there had been werepatched up or smoothed over. Ninon's return to the house in the Ruedes Tournelles was hailed with joy by her "Birds, " who received her asone returned from the dead. Saint-Evremond composed an elegy beginningwith these lines:

Chère Philis, qu'êtes vous devenues?Cet enchanteur qui vous a retenueDepuis trois ans par un charme nouveauVous retient-il en quelque vieux château?

CHAPTER XIII

The Marquis de Sévigné

It has been attempted to cast odium upon the memory of Mademoiselle del'Enclos because of her connection with the second Marquis de Sévigné, son of the celebrated Madame de Sévigné, whose letters have been readfar and wide by those who fancy they can find something in them withreference to the morals and practices of the court of Versaillesduring her period. 

The Marquis de Sévigné, by a vitiated taste quite natural in men ofweak powers, had failed to discover in a handsome woman, spirited, perhaps of too jealous a nature or disposition to be esteemed, theproper sentiments, or sentiments strong enough to retain hisaffections. He implored Ninon to aid him in preserving her affectionsand to teach him how to secure her love. Ninon undertook to give himinstructions in the art of captivating women's hearts, to show him thenature of love and its operations, and to give him an insight into thenature of women. The Marquis profited by these lessons to fall in lovewith Ninon, finding her a thousand times more charming than hisactress or his princess. Madame de Sévigné's letter referring to thelove of her son for Ninon testifies by telling him plainly "Ninonspoiled your father, " that this passion was not so much unknown toher as it was a matter of indifference. 

The young Chevalier de Vassé often gave brilliant receptions in honorof Ninon at Saint Cloud, which the Marquis de Sévigné always attendedas the mutual friend of both. De Vassé was well acquainted withNinon's peculiarities and knew that the gallantry of such a man as deSévigné was a feeble means of retaining the affections of a heart thatwas the slave of nothing but its own fugitive desires. But he was aman devoted to his friends and, being Epicurean in his philosophy, hedid not attempt to interfere with the affection he perceived growingbetween Ninon and his friend. It never occurred to the Marquis that hewas guilty of a betrayal of friendship by paying court to Ninon, andthe latter took the Marquis' attentions as a matter of course withoutconsidering the ingratitude of her conduct. She rather flatteredherself at having been sufficiently attractive to capture a man of deSeine's family distinction. She had captured the heart of de Soigné, the father, and had received so many animadversions upon her conductfrom 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 learnsoon after her conquest that de Sévigné had perished on the field ofhonor at the hands of Chevalier d'Albret. Her sorrow was real, ofcourse, but the fire lighted by the senses is small and not enduring, and when the occasion arises regret is not eternalized, besides therewere others waiting with impatience. His successful rival out of theway, de Vassé supposed he had a clear field, but he did not attain hisexpected happiness. He was no longer pleasing to Ninon and she did no:hesitate to make him understand that he could never hope to win herheart. According to her philosophy there is nothing so shameful in atender friendship as the art of dissimulation. 

As has been said, much odium has been cast upon Mademoiselle del'Enclos in this de Sévigné matter. It all grew out of the dislike ofMadame de Sévigné for a woman who attracted even her own husband andson from her side and heart, and for whom her dearest friendsprofessed the most intimate attachment. Madame de Grignan, the proud, haughty daughter of the house of de Sévigné, did not scruple to arrayherself on the side of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos with Madame deCoulanges, another bright star among the noble and respectablefamilies of France. 

"Women have the privilege of being weak, " says Madame de Sévigné, "andthey make use of that privilege without scruple. "

Women had never, before the time of Ninon, exercised their rights ofweakness to such an unlimited extent. There was neither honor norhonesty to be found among them. They were common to every man whoattracted their fancy without regard to fidelity to any one inparticular. The seed sown by the infamous Catherine de Medici, theutter depravity of the court of Charles IX, and the profligacy ofHenry IV, bore an astonishing supply of bitter fruit. The love ofpleasure had, so to speak, carried every woman off her feet, and therewas no limit to their abuses. Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, while devotingherself to a life of pleasure, followed certain philosophical rulesand regulations which removed from the unrestrained freedom of thetimes the stigma of commonness and conferred something ofrespectability upon practices that nowadays would be consideredhorribly immoral, but which then were regarded as nothing uncommon, nay, were legitimate and proper. The cavaliers cut one another'sthroats for the love of God and in the cause of religion, and thewomen encouraged the arts, sciences, literature, and the drama, byconferring upon talent, wit, genius and merit favors which were deemedconducive as encouragements to the growth of intellect andspirituality. 

Ninon was affected by the spirit of the times, and being a woman, itwas impossible for her to resist desire when aided by philosophy andforce of example. Her intimacy with de Sévigné grew out of her attemptto teach a young, vigorous, passionate man how to gain the love of acold-blooded, vain and conceited woman. Her letters will show thevarious stages of her desires as she went along vainly struggling tobeat something like comprehension into the dull brain of a clod, whocould not understand the simplest principle of love, or the smallestpoint in the female character. At last she resolved to use an argumentthat was convincing with the brightest minds with whom she had everdealt, that is, the power of her own love, and if the Marquis hadlived, perhaps he might have become an ornament to society and anhonor to his family. 

To do this, however, she violated her compact with de Vassé, betrayedhis confidence and opened the way for the animadversions of Madame deSévigné. At that time de Sévigné was in love with an actress, Mademoiselle Champmêlé, but desired to withdraw his affections, orrather transfer them to a higher object, a countess, or a princess, asthe reader may infer from his mother's hints in one of her letters tobe given hereafter. To Ninon, therefore, he went for instruction andadvice as to the best course to pursue to get rid of one love and onwith a new. Madame de Sévigné and Madame de La Fayette vainly imploredhim to avoid Ninon as he would the pest. The more they prayed andentreated, the closer he came to Ninon until she became his ideal. Ninon, herself was captivated by his pleasant conversation, agreeablemanners and seductive traits. She knew that he had had a love affairwith Champmêlé, the actress, and when she began to obtain anascendency over his mind, she wormed out of him all the letters he hadever received from the comedienne. Some say it was jealousy on Ninon'spart, but any one who reads her letters to de Sévigné will see betweenthe lines a disposition on his part to wander away after a newcharmer. Others, however, say that she intended to send them to theMarquis de Tonnerre, whom the actress had betrayed for de Sévigné. 

But Madame de Sévigné, to whom her son had confessed his folly ingiving up the letters, perhaps fearing to be embroiled in adisgraceful duel over an actress, made him blush at his cruelsacrifice of a woman who loved him, and made him understand that evenin dishonesty there were certain rules of honesty to be observed. Sheworked upon his mind until he felt that he had committed adishonorable act, and when he had reached that point, it was easy toget the letters away from Ninon partly by artifice, partly by force. Madame de Sévigné tells the story in a letter to her daughter, Madamede Grignan:

"Elle (Ninon) voulut l'autre jour lui faire donner des lettres de lacomedienne (Champmêlé); il les lui donna; elle en était jalouse; ellevoulait les donner à un amant de la princesse, afin de lui fairedonner quelque coups de baudrier. Il me le vint dire: je lui fis voirque c'était une infamie de couper ainsi la gorge à une petite créaturepour l'avoir aimer; je representai qu'elle n'avait point sacrifié seslettres, comme on voulait lui faire croire pour l'animer. Il entradans mes raisons; il courut chez Ninon, et moitié par adresse, etmoitié par force, il retira les lettres de cette pauvre diablesse. "

It was easy for a doting mother like Madame de Sévigné to crediteverything her son manufactured for her delectation. The dramaticincident of de Sévigné taking letters from Ninon de l'Enclos partly byingenuity and partly by force, resembled his tale that he had leftNinon and that he did not care for her while all the time they wereinseparable. He was truly a lover of Penelope, the bow of Ulysseshaving betrayed his weakness. 

"The malady of his soul, " says his mother, "afflicted his body. Hethought himself like the good Esos; he would have himself boiled in acaldron with aromatic herbs to restore his vigor. "

But Ninon's opinion of him was somewhat different. She lamented hisuntimely end, but did not hesitate to express her views. 

"He was a man beyond definition, " was her panegyric. "He possessed asoul of pulp, a body of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseedin snow. "

She finally became ashamed of ever having loved him, and insisted thatthey were never more than brother and sister. She tried to makesomething 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 quicksuccession were the cause of an unusual disagreement, not to sayquarrel, between two rivals in her affections. A Marshal of France, d'Estrées and the celebrated Abbé Deffiat disputed the right ofparentage, the dispute waxing warm because both contended for thehonor and could not see any way out of their difficulty, neitherconsenting to make the slightest concession. Ninon, however, calmedthe tempest by suggesting a way out of the difficulty through thehazard of the dice. Luck or good fortune for the waif declared infavor of the warrior, who made a better guardian than the Abbé couldpossibly have done, and brought him greater happiness. 

Ninon surrendered all her maternal rights in the child to the worthyMarshal, who became in reality a tender and affectionate father to thewaif, cared for him tenderly and raised him up to a good position inlife. He placed him in the marine service, where, as the Chevalier dela Bossière, he reached the grade of captain of a vessel, and died atan advanced age respected by his brother officers and by all who knewhim. He inherited some of the talents of his mother, particularlymusic, in which he was remarkably proficient. His apartments atToulon, where he was stationed, were crowded with musical instrumentsand the works of the greatest masters. All the musicians travelingback and forth between Italy and France made his house theirheadquarters. The Chevalier accorded them a generous welcome on alloccasions; the only return demanded was an exhibition of theirproficiency in instrumental music. 

The happiness of this son solaced Ninon for his unfortunate birth, andit would have been happy for her had she never had a second. But herprofound love for the Chevalier de Gersay overcame any scruples thatmight have arisen in her mind against again yielding to the maternalinstinct, and another son came to her, one who was destined to meet amost horrible fate and cause her the most exquisite mental torture. 

This de Gersay, who was famous for the temerity of his passion for thequeen, Anne of Austria, a fact he announced from the housetops ofParis in his delirium, was as happy as a king over the boy that cameto him so unexpectedly, and lavished upon him the most extravagantaffection. He took him to his heart and trained him up in all theaccomplishments 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 toenter society, and her beauty was still remarkable according to thechronicles of the times and the allusions made to it in the currentliterature. She was as attractive in her appearance, and as lovable asat twenty years of age, few, even among the younger habitués of herdrawing-rooms being able to resist the charms of her person. Her housewas thronged with the élite of French society, young men of noblefamilies being designedly sent into her society to acquire taste, grace, and polish which they were unable to acquire elsewhere. Ninonpossessed a singular genius for inspiring men with high and noblesentiments, and her schooling in the art of etiquette was marvelous inits details and perfection. Her power was practically a repetition ofthe history of the Empress Theodora, whose happy admirers andintimates could be distinguished from all others by their exquisitepoliteness, culture, finish and social polish. It was the same inNinon's school, the graduates of which occupied the highest rank inletters, society, statesmanship, and military genius. 

De Gersay intending his son to fill a high position in society andpublic honors, sent him to this school, where he was received and putupon the same footing as other youth of high birth, and was dulytrained with them in all the arts and accomplishments of refinedsociety. The young man was not aware of his parentage, de Gersayhaving extracted a solemn promise from Mademoiselle de l'Enclos thatshe would never divulge the secret of the youth's birth without hisfather's express consent, a promise which resulted in the mostdisastrous consequences. 

Ninon, as mother of this handsome youth, admired him, and manifested atenderness which he misunderstood for the emotion of love, Ninon, herself never contemplating such a fatality, and ended by becomingenamored 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, forcingthe youth to fall at his mother's feet and pour forth his passion inthe most extravagant language. 

Alarmed at this condition of her son's heart, Ninon withdrew from hissociety, refusing to admit him to her presence. Although the Chevalierwas an impetuous wooer, he was dismayed by the loss of his inamorata, and begged for the privilege of seeing her, promising solemnly neverto repeat his declaration of love. Ninon was deceived by hisprofessions and re-admitted him to her society. Insensibly, however, perhaps in despite of his struggle to overcome his amorouspropensities, 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. Hissighs, glances, sadness when in her presence, were signs to her of apassion that she would be compelled to subdue with a strong, ruthlesshand. 

"Raise your eyes to that clock, " she said to him one day, "and markthe passing of time. Rash boy, it is sixty-five years since I cameinto 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 wouldarouse in me. "

All Ninon's remonstrances, however, tended only to increase thedesires which burned in the young man's breast. His mother's tears, which now began to flow, were regarded by the youth as trophies ofsuccess. 

"What, tears?" he exclaimed, "you shed tears for me? Are they wrungfrom your heart by pity, by tenderness? Ah, am I to be blessed?"

"This is terrible, " she replied, "it is insanity. Leave me, and do notpoison the remainder of a life which I detest. "

"What language is this?" exclaimed the Chevalier. "What poison can thesweetness of making still another one happy instill into the loveliestlife? Is this the tender and philosophic Ninon? Has she not raisedbetween us that shadow of virtue that makes her sex adorable? Whatchimeras have changed your heart? Shall I tell you? You carry yourcruelty to the extent of fighting against yourself, resisting your owndesires. I have seen in your eyes a hundred times less resistance thanyou now set against me. And these tears which my condition has drawnfrom 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, "theright to claim my liveliest friendship rested with you, I thought youworthy of it. That is the cause of the friendly looks which you havemistaken for others of greater meaning, and it is also the cause ofthe tears I shed. Do not flatter yourself that you have inspired mewith the passion of love. I can see too plainly that your desires arethe effect of a passing presumption. Come now, you shall know myheart, and it should destroy all hope for you. It will go so far as tohate you, if you repeat your protestations of blind tenderness. I donot care to understand you, leave me, to regret the favors you have sobadly interpreted. "

When Ninon learned that her son was plunged into despair and fury onaccount of her rejection of his love, her heart was torn with sorrowand she regretted that she had not at first told him the secret of hisbirth, but her solemn promise to de Gersay had stood in her way. Shedetermined now to remedy the evil and she therefore applied to deGersay to relieve her from her promise. De Gersay advised her tocommunicate the truth to her son as soon as possible to prevent acatastrophe which he prophesied was liable to happen when leastexpected. She accordingly wrote the Chevalier that at a certain timeshe would be at her house in the Saint Antoine suburb and prayed himto meet her there. The impassioned Chevalier, expecting nothing lessthan the gratification of his desires, prepared himself with extremecare and flew to the assignation. He was disconcerted, however, byfinding Ninon despondent and sad, instead of smiling and joyful withanticipation. However, he cast himself at her feet, seized her handand covered it with tears and kisses. 

"Unfortunate, " cried Ninon submitting to his embraces, "there aredestinies beyond human prudence to direct. What have I not attemptedto do to calm your agitated spirit? What mystery do you force me tounfold?"

"Ah, you are about to deceive me again, " interrupted the Chevalier, "Ido not perceive in your eyes the love I had the right to expect. Irecognize in your obscure language an injustice you are about tocommit; you hope to cure me of my love, but disabuse yourself of thatfancy; the cruel triumph you seek to win is beyond the united strengthof both of us, above any imaginable skill, beyond the power of reasonitself. It seems to listen to nothing but its own intoxication, and atthe same time rush to the last extremity. "

"Stop, " exclaimed Ninon, indignant at this unreasoning folly, "thishorrible love shall not reach beyond the most sacred duties. Stop, Itell you, monster that you are, and shudder with dismay. Can loveflourish where horror fills the soul? Do you know who you are and whoI 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 sonwho sighs at my feet, who talks to me of love. What sentiments do youthink you have inspired me with? Monsieur de Gersay, your father, through an excess of affection for you, wished you to remain ignorantof your birth. Ah, my son, by what fatality have you compelled me toreveal this secret? You know to what degree of opprobrium theprejudiced have put one of your birth, wherefore it was necessary toconceal 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 youlife. "

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 therelationship sufficiently to destroy the burning passion he felt forher person. He cast one long look into her eyes, bent them upon theground, arose with a deep sigh and fled. A garden offered him arefuge, and there, in a thick clump of bushes, he drew his sword andwithout a moment's hesitation fell upon it, to sink down dying. 

Ninon had followed him dreading some awful calamity, and there, in thedim light of the stars, she found her son weltering in his blood, shedby his own hand for love of her. His dying eyes which he turned towardher still spoke ardent love, and he expired while endeavoring to utterwords of endearment. 

Le Sage in the romance of Gil Blas has painted this horriblecatastrophe of Ninon de l'Enclos in the characters of the old womanInisilla de Cantarilla, and the youth Don Valerio de Luna. Theincident is similar to that which happened to Oedipus, the Theban whotore out his eyes after discovering that in marrying Jocasta, thequeen, he had married his own mother. Le Sage's hero, however, mournsbecause he had not been able to commit the crime, which gives the caseof Ninon's son a similar tinge, his self-immolation being due, not tothe horror of having indulged in criminal love for his own mother, butto 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 desTournelles, if there is anything of a similar character in modernsociety that can be compared to them, might be faintly represented byour Bohemian circles, where good cheer, good fellowship, and freedomfrom restraint are supposed to reign. There are, indeed, numerousclubs at the present day styled "Bohemian, " but except so far as thetendency to relaxation appears upon the surface, they possess very fewof the characteristics of that society of "Birds" that assembledaround Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. They put aside all conventionalrestraint, and the mental metal of those choice spirits clashed andevolved brilliant sparks, bright rays of light, the luster of whichstill glitters after a lapse of more than two centuries. 

Personally, Ninon was an enemy of pedantry in every form, demanding ofher followers originality at all times on penalty of banishment fromher circle. The great writer, Mynard, once related with tears in hiseyes that his daughter, who afterward became the Countess deFeuquières, had no memory. Whereat Ninon laughed him out of hissorrow:

"You are too happy in having a daughter who has no memory; she willnot be able to make citations. "

That her society was sought by very good men is evidenced by the gravetheologians who found her companionship pleasant, perhaps salutary. Acelebrated Jesuit who did not scruple to find entertainment in hersocial circle, undertook to combat her philosophy and show her thetruth from his point of view, but she came so near converting him toher tenets that he abandoned the contest remarking with a laugh:

"Well, well, Mademoiselle, while waiting to be convinced that you arein error, offer up to God your unbelief. " Rousseau has converted thisincident into an epigram. 

The grave and learned clergy of Port Royal also undertook the labor ofconverting 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 ofbidding 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, butNinon brought one to his bedside, and as the clergyman, knowing thescepticism 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 friendcan 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 hertoleration and liberality. Utterly unselfish, she had no thoughtsbeyond the comfort and, happiness of her friends. For them shesacrificed her person, an astounding sacrifice in a woman, one forwhich a multitude have suffered martyrdom for refusing to make, andare cited as models of virtue to be followed. Yet, notwithstanding herstrange misapplication or perversion of what the world calls "femalehonor, " her world had nothing but the most profound respect andadmiration for her. It requires an extremely delicate pencil to sketchsuch a character, and even then, a hundred trials might result infailing to seize upon its most vivid lights and shades and bring outits best points. 

Standing out clearly defined through her whole life was a noble soulthat never stooped to anything common, low, debasing or vulgar. Brought up from infancy in the society of men, taught to consider themas her companions and equals, and treated by them as one ofthemselves, she acquired a grace and a polish that made her societydesired by the proudest ladies of the court. There is no one in theannals of the nations of the earth that can be compared to her. TheAspasia of Pericles has been regarded by some as a sort of prototype, but Aspasia was a common woman of the town, her thoughts were devotedto the aggrandizement of one man, her love affairs were bestowed uponan open market. On the contrary, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos neverbestowed her favors upon any but one she could ever after regard as anearnest, unselfish friend. Their friendship was a source of delight toher and she was Epicurean, in the enjoyment of everything that goeswith friendship. 

Saint-Evremond likens her to Leontium, the Athenian woman, celebratedfor her philosophy and for having dared to write a book against thegreat Theophrastus, a literary venture which may have been the reasonwhy Saint-Evremond gave Ninon the title. Ninon's heart was weak, it istrue, but she had early learned those philosophical principles whichdrew her senses away from that portion of her soul, and herenvironments were those most conducive to the cultivation of thesenses which are so easily led away into seductive paths. But howeverfar her love of pleasure may have led her, her philosophical ideas andpractices did not succeed in destroying or even weakening any othervirtue. "The smallest fault of gallant women, " says de laRochefoucauld, "is their gallantry. "

The distinguished Abbé Châteauneuf expresses a trait in her characterwhich drew to her side the most distinguished men of the period. 

"She reserved all her esteem, all her confidence for friendship, whichshe always regarded as a respectable liaison, " says the Abbé, "and tomaintain 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 andInfluence in Society, " says: "While Ninon de l'Enclos was fosteringand patronizing genius, and giving it opportunities to expand, Madamede Sévigné was at the head of a cabal in opposition to genius, unlessit was measured upon her own standard. In her self-love she wroughtagainst Racine and sought to diminish the literary luster of Flèchier. But with all her ability Madame de Sévigné possessed very littlegenius or tact, and her lack of discrimination is apparent in the factthat none of her protégés ever reached any distinction. Moreover, hervirtues must have been of an appalling character since they were notstrong enough to save her husband and son from falling into theclutches of "That horrid woman, " referring to Ninon. 

Ninon certainly understood men; she divined them at the first glanceand provided for their bodily and intellectual wants. If they weredeemed worthy of her favors, she bestowed them freely, and out of oneanimal desire gratified, there were created a thousand intellectualaspirations. She understood clearly that man can not be all animal orall spiritual, and that the attempt to divert nature from its dualityof being was to wreck humanity and make of man neither fish, flesh norfowl. Her constant prayer in her younger days, for the truth of whichVoltaire vouches, was:

"Mon Dieu, faîtes de moi un honnête homme, et n'en faîtes jamais unehonnête femme. " (My God, make me an honest man, but never an honestwoman). 

Count Segur, in his book already referred to, has this to say furtherconcerning Ninon:

"Ninon shone under the reign of Louis XIV like a graceful plant in itsproper soil. Splendor seemed to be her element. That Ninon mightappear in the sphere that became her, it was necessary that Turenneand Condé should sigh at her feet, that Voltaire should receive fromher 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 manywho claim it as the truth--the sombre tinge, the veil of gloominessand hypocritical austerity which surrounded Madame de Maintenon andher court, would have wrecked the intellects of the most illustriousand brightest men in France, in war, literature, science, andstatesmanship. Madame de Maintenon resisted that influence but the Ruedes Tournelles strove against Saint Cyr. The world fluctuated betweenthese two systems established by women, both of them--shall it besaid--courtesans? The legality and morality of our modern common lawmarriages and the ease and frequency of trivial divorces forbid it. Ninon prevailed, however, and not only governed hearts but souls. Thedifference between the two courts was, the royal salon was throngedwith women of the most infamous character who had nothing but theirinfamy to bestow, while the drawing rooms of Ninon de l'Enclos werecrowded with men almost exclusively, and men of wit and genius. 

The moral that the majority of writers draw from the three courts thatoccupied society at that time, the Rue des Tournelles, Madame deSévigné, and Versailles, is, that men demand human nature and willhave it in preference to abnormal goodness, and female debauchery. Ninon never hesitated to declaim against the fictitious beauty thatpretended to inculcate virtue and morality while secretly engaged inthe most corrupt practices, but Molière came with his PrécieusesRidicules and pulverized the enemies of human nature. Ninon did notknow Molière personally at that time but she was so loud in his praisefor covering her gross imitators with confusion, that Bachaumont andChapelle, two of her intimate friends, ventured to introduce the youngdramatist into her society. The father of this Bachaumont who was atwin, said of him: "My son who is only half a man, wants to do as ifhe were a whole one. " Though only "half a man" and extremely feebleand delicate, he became a voluptuary according to the ideas ofChapelle, and by devoting himself to the doctrines of Epicurus, hemanaged to live until eighty years of age. Chapelle was a drunkard ashas been intimated in a preceding chapter, and although he loved Ninonpassionately, she steadily refused to favor him. 

Molière and Ninon were mutually attracted, each recognizing in theother not only a kindred spirit, but something not apparent on thesurface. Nature had given them the same eyes, and they saw men andthings from the same view point. Molière was destined to enlighten hisage by his pen, and Ninon through her wise counsel and sagereflections. In speaking of Molière to Saint-Evremond, she declaredwith fervor:

"I thank God every night for finding me a man of his spirit, and Ipray Him every morning to preserve him from the follies of the heart. "

There was a great opposition to Molière's comedy "Tartuffe. " Itcreated a sensation in society, and neither Louis XIV, the prelates ofthe kingdom and the Roman legate, were strong enough to withstand thetorrents of invectives that came from those who were unmasked in theplay. They succeeded in having it interdicted, and the comedy was onthe point of being suppressed altogether, when Molière took it toNinon, read it over to her and asked her opinion as to what had betterbe done. With her keen sense of the ridiculous and her knowledge ofcharacter, Ninon went over the play with Molière to such good purposethat the edict of suppression was withdrawn, the opponents of thecomedy finding themselves in a position where they could no longertake exceptions without confessing the truth of the inuendoes. 

When the comedy was nearly completed, Molière began trying to think ofa name to give the main character in the play, who is an imposter. Oneday while at dinner with the Papal Nuncio, he noticed twoecclesiastics, whose air of pretended mortification fairly representedthe character he had depicted in the play. While considering themclosely, a peddler came along with truffles to sell. One of the piousecclesiastics who knew very little Italian, pricked up his ears at theword truffles, which seemed to have a familiar sound. Suddenly comingout of his devout silence, he selected several of the finest of thetruffles, and holding them out to the nuncio, exclaimed with a laugh:"Tartuffoli, Tartuffoli, signor Nuncio!" imagining that he wasdisplaying 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 aclose and keen observer of everything that transpired around him, seized upon the name "Tartuffe" as suitable to the hypocriticalimposter in his comedy. 

Ninon's brilliancy was so animated, particularly at table, that shewas said to be intoxicated at the soup, although she rarely drankanything but water. Her table was always surrounded by the wittiest ofher friends and her own flashes kept their spirits up to the highestpoint. The charm of her conversation was equal to the draughts ofNepenthe which Helen lavished upon her guests, according to Homer tocharm and enchant them. 

One story told about Ninon is not to her credit if true, and it isdisputed. A great preacher arose in France, the "Eagle of the Pulpit, "as he was called, or "The great Pan, " as Madame de Sévigné, loved todesignate him. His renown for eloquence and piety reached Ninon's earsand she conceived a scheme, so it is said; to bring this great oratorto her feet. She had held in her chains from time to time, all theheroes, and illustrious men of France, and she considered PèreBourdaloue worthy of a place on the list. She accordingly arrayedherself in her most fascinating costume, feigned illness and sent forhim. 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 tobe easily deceived. He came at her request, however, and to herquestion as to her condition he answered: "I perceive that your maladyexists only in your heart and mind; as to your body, it appears to meto be in perfect health. I pray the great physician of souls that hewill heal you. " Saying which he left her without ceremony. 

The story is probably untrue and grew out of a song of the times, toridicule the attempts of numerous preachers to convert Ninon from herway of living. They frequented her social receptions but those werealways public, as she never trusted herself to any one without theknowledge and presence of some of her "Birds, " taking that precautionfor her own safety and to avoid any appearance of partiality. The songreferred 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 thoseamong the beauties of the royal court who thought she ought to retirefrom society and make way for them, but there appeared to be nodiminution of her capacity for pleasure, no weakening of her powers ofattraction. The legend of the Noctambule, or the little black man, whoappeared to Ninon when she was at the age of twenty years, andpromised her perpetual beauty and the conquest of all hearts, wasrevived, and there was enough probability in it to justify a strongbelief in the story. Indeed, the Abbé Servien spread it about againwhen Ninon was seventy years of age, and even then there were few whodisputed the mysterious gift as Ninon showed little change. 

As old age approached, Ninon ceased to be regarded with thatfamiliarity shown her by her intimates in her younger days, and arespect and admiration took its place. She was no longer "Ninon, " but"Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. " Her social circle widened, and instead ofbeing limited to men exclusively, ladies eagerly took advantage of theprivilege accorded them to frequent the charming circle. That circlecertainly became celebrated. The beautiful woman had lived the life ofan earnest Epicurean in her own way, regardless of society'sconventionalities, and had apparently demonstrated that her way wasthe best. She had certainly attained a long life, and what was more tothe purpose she had preserved her beauty and the attractions of herperson were as strong as when she was in her prime. Reason enough whythe women of the age thronged her apartments to learn the secret ofher life. Moreover, her long and intimate associations with the mostremarkable men of the century had not failed to impart to her, inaddition to her exquisite femininity, the wisdom of a sage and thepolish of a man of the world. 

Madame de La Fayette, that "rich field so fertile in fruits, " as Ninonsaid of her, and Madame de la Sablière, "a lovely garden enameled witheye-charming flowers, " another of Ninon's descriptive metaphors, passed as many hours as they could in her society with the illustriousDuke de la Rochefoucauld, who, up to the time of his death honoredNinon with his constant friendship and his devoted esteem. Even Madamede Sévigné put aside her envy and jealousy and never wearied of thepleasure of listening to the conversation of this wise beauty, incompany with her haughty daughter, Madame de Grignan, Madame deCoulanges, Madame de Torp, and, strange to say, the Duchess deBouillon. 

Her friends watched over her health with the tenderest care andaffection, and even her slightest indisposition brought them aroundher with expressions of the deepest solicitude. They dreaded losingher, for having had her so long among them they hoped to keep heralways, and they did, practically, for she outlived the most of them. As proof of the anxiety of her friends and the delight theyexperienced at her recovery from the slightest ailment, oneillustration will suffice. 

On one occasion she had withdrawn from her friends for a singleevening, pleading indisposition. The next evening she reappeared andher return was celebrated by an original poem written by no less apersonage than the Abbé Regnier-Desmarais, who read it to the friendsassembled 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 heartsof her friends regarded the sentiments more than the polish, as asubstantial translation into English will serve to show appeared inthe 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 theevening until nine, at which hour she begged them to permit her toretire and gain strength for the morrow. In winter she occupied alarge apartment decorated with portraits of her dearest male andfemale friends, and numerous paintings by celebrated artists. Insummer, she occupied an apartment which overlooked the boulevard, itswalls frescoed with magnificent sketches from the life of Psyche. Inone or the other of these salons, she gave her friends four hoursevery evening, after that retiring to rest or amusing herself with afew intimates. Her friendship finds an apt illustration in the case ofthe Comte de Charleval. He was always delicate and in feeble health, and Ninon when he became her admirer in his youth, resolved toprolong his life through the application of the Epicurian philosophy. De Marville, speaking of the Count, whom no one imagined would surviveto middle age, says: "Nature, which gave him so delicate a body insuch perfect form, also gave him a delicate and perfect intelligence. "This frail and delicate invalid, lived, however, until the age ofeighty years, and was always grateful to Ninon for her tenderness. Henever missed a reception and sang her praises on every occasion. Writing to Saint-Evremond to announce his death, Ninon, herself veryaged, says: "His mind had retained all the charms of his youth, andhis heart all the sweetness and tenderness of a true friend. " She feltthe 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 oneselfto meet with such a loss. "

It was at this period of her life that Ninon occupied her time morethan ever in endearing herself to her friends. As says Saint-Evremond:"She contents herself with ease and rest, after having enjoyed theliveliest pleasures of life. " Although she was never mistress of theinvincible inclination toward the pleasures of the senses which naturehad given her, it appears that Ninon made some efforts to controlthem. Referring to the ashes which are sprinkled on the heads of thepenitent faithful on Ash Wednesday, she insisted that instead of theusual prayer of abnegation there should be substituted the words: "Wemust avoid the movements of love. " What she wrote Saint-Evremondmight give rise to the belief that she sometimes regretted herweakness: "Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of in mytime than many another. However that may be, if any one had proposedto me such a life I would have hanged myself. " One of her favoritemaxims, however, was: "We must provide a stock of provisions and notof pleasures, they should be taken as they come. "

That her philosophical principles did not change, is certain from thefact that she retained all her friends and gained new ones who flockedto her reunions. Says Madame de Coulanges in one of her letters: "Thewomen are running after Mademoiselle de l'Enclos now as much as themen used to do. How can any one hate old age after such an example. "This reflection did not originate with Ninon, who regretted little herformer pleasures, and besides, friendship with her had as many sacredrights as love. From what Madame de Coulanges says, one might supposethat the men had deserted Ninon in her old age, leaving women to taketheir place, but Madame de Sévigné was of a different opinion. Shesays: "Corbinelli asks me about the new marvels taking place atMademoiselle de l'Enclos' house in the way of good company. Sheassembles around her in her old age, whatever Madame de Coulanges maysay to the contrary, both men and women, but even if women did notflock to her side, she could console herself for having had men in heryoung days to please. "

The celebrated English geometrician, Huygens, visited Ninon during asojourn at Paris in the capacity of ambassador. He was so charmedwith the attractions of her person, and with her singing, that he fellinto poetry to express his admiration. French verses from anEnglishman who was a geometrician and not a poet, were as surprisingto Ninon and her friends as they will be to the reader. They are notliterature 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 severalattacks of illness which worried her friends exceedingly. The Marquisde Coulanges writes: "Our amiable l'Enclos has a cold which does notplease me. " A short time afterward he again wrote: "Our poor l'Encloshas a low fever which redoubles in the evening, and a sore throatwhich worries her friends. " These trifling ailments were nothing toNinon, who, though growing feeble, maintained her philosophy, as shesaid: "I am contenting myself with what happens from day to day;forgetting to-day what occurred yesterday, and holding on to a used upbody as one that has been very agreeable. " She saw the term of herlife coming to an end without any qualms or fear. "If I could onlybelieve with Madame de Chevreuse, that by dying we can go and talkwith 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 herlodgings at Versailles. It is said that her intention was to enablethe king to profit by an intimacy with a woman of eighty-five yearswho, in spite of bodily infirmities, possessed the same vivacity ofmind and delicacy of taste which had contributed to her great renown, much more than her personal charms and frailties. But Ninon was bornfor liberty, and had never been willing to sacrifice her philosophicaltranquility for the hope of greater fortune and position in the world. Accordingly, she thanked her old friend, and as the only concessionshe would grant, consented to stand in the chapel of Versailles whereLouis the Great could pass and satisfy his curiosity to see once, atleast, the astonishing marvel of his reign. 

During the latter years of her life, she took a fancy to youngVoltaire, in whom she detected signs of future greatness. Shefortified him with her counsel, which he prayed her to give him, andleft him a thousand francs in her will to buy books. Voltaireattempted to earn the money by ridiculing the memory of hisbenefactress. 

At the age of ninety years, Mademoiselle de l'Enclos grew feeblerevery day, and felt that death would not be long coming. She performedall her social duties, however, until the very end, refusing tosurrender until compelled. On the last night of her life, unable tosleep, 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 whofalls asleep. 

LETTERS

OF

NINON de L'ENCLOS

TO THE

MARQUIS de SÉVIGNÉ. 

INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS

The celebrated Abbé de Châteauneuf, in his "Dialogues on AncientMusic, " refers to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos under the name of"Leontium, " a name given her by le Maréchal de Saint-Evremond, and inhis eulogy upon her character, lays great stress on the geniusdisplayed in her epistolary style. After censuring the affectation tobe 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 andintelligence contain nothing stilted, or overdrawn. 

"Inasmuch as the moral to be drawn from them is always seasoned withsprightliness, and the spirit manifested in them, displays thecharacteristics of a liberal and natural imagination, they differ innothing from personal conversation with her choice circle of friends. 

"The impression conveyed to the mind of their readers is, that she isactually 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 dojustice to them. In her frame of mind, she could not see men withoutstudying their dispositions, and she knew them thoroughly, herexperience extending over a period of seventy-five years of intimateassociation with men of every stamp, from the Royal prince to theMarquis de Sévigné, the latter wearying her to such an extent that shedesignated him as "a man beyond definition; with a soul of pulp, abody of wet paper, and a heart of pumpkin fricasseed in snow, " his ownmother, the renowned Madame de Sévigné, admitting that he was "a heartfool. "

Ninon took this weak Chevalier in charge and endeavored to make a manof him by exposing his frailties, and, entering into a longcorrespondence, to instruct him in the pathology of the female heart, with which he was disposed to tamper on the slightest provocation. Herletters will show that she succeeded finally in bringing him toreason, but that in doing so, she was compelled to betray her own sexby 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 successfullyagainst the evil designs of the Marquis de Sévigné, including Madamede La Fayette, Madame de Sévigné, Madame de La Sablière, and the mostdistinguished and prominent society women of France, they all were herparticular friends, as well as intimates, and held her in high esteemas their confidante in all affairs of the heart. 

No other woman ever held so unique a position in the world of societyas Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and her letters to the Marquis de Sévignémay, therefore, be considered as standards of the epistolary art uponthe subjects she treats; as containing the most profound insight intothe female heart where love is concerned, and as forming a study ofthe greatest value in everything that pertains to the relationsbetween the sexes. 

There is an entire absence of mawkish sentimentality, of effort toconceal the secret motives and desires of the heart beneath speciouslanguage and words of double meaning. On the contrary, they tear awayfrom the heart the curtain of deceit, artifice and treachery, toexpose the nature of the machinery behind the scenes. 

These letters must be read in the light of the opinions of the wisestphilosophers of the seventeenth century upon her character. 

"Inasmuch as the first use she (Mademoiselle de l'Enclos) made of herreason, was to become enfranchised from vulgar errors, it isimpossible to be further removed from the stupid mistake of those who, under the name of "passion, " elevate the sentiment of love to theheight of a virtue. Ninon understood love to be what it really is, ataste founded upon the senses, a blind sentiment, which admits of nomerit in the object which gives it birth, and which promises norecompense; a caprice, the duration of which does not depend upon ourvolition, 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 theenterprise upon which you are about to enter? You exact too much of myfriendship for you. You ought to be aware of the fact, that when awoman has lost the freshness of her first youth, and takes a specialinterest in a young man, everybody says she desires to "make aworldling of him. " You know the malignity of this expression. I do notcare to expose myself to its application. All the service I am willingto render you, is to become your confidante. You will tell me yourtroubles, and I will tell you what is in my mind, likewise aid you toknow your own heart and that of women. 

It grieves me to say, that whatever pleasure I may expect to find inthis correspondence, I can not conceal the difficulties I am liable toencounter. The human heart, which will be the subject of my letters, presents so many contrasts, that whoever lays it bare must fall intoa flood of contradictions. You think you have something stable in yourgrasp, but find you have seized a shadow. It is indeed a chameleon, which, viewed from different aspects, presents a variety of oppositecolors, and even they are constantly shifting. You may expect to readmany 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 notfree from grave scruples of conscience, foreseeing that I can scarcelybe sincere without slandering my own sex a little. But at least youwill know my views on the subject of love, and particularly everythingthat relates to it, and I have sufficient courage to talk to youfrankly upon the subject. 

I am to dine to-night with the Marquis de la Rochefoucauld. Madame dela Sablière and La Fontaine will also be guests. If it please you tobe 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, againa scruple. Have I nothing to fear in the undertaking we contemplate?Love is so malicious and fickle! Still, when I examine my heart, I donot feel any apprehension for myself, it being occupied elsewhere, andthe sentiments I possess toward you resemble love less thanfriendship. If the worst should happen and I lose my head some day, weshall 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 usonly the question of gallantry to discuss, and that, you know, swaysmorals to so high a degree that it deserves to be the subject of aspecial study. The very idea of such a project is to me infinitelyrisible. However, if I talk reason to you too often, will you not growweary? This is my sole anxiety, for you well know that I am a pitilessreasoner when I wish to be. With any other heart than that which youmisunderstand, 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, Ishall speak the truth, even though it be to my own detriment. I havemore stability in my disposition than you imagine, and I fearexceedingly that the result of our intercourse may sometimes lead youto think that I carry this virtue into severity. But you must rememberthat I have only the external appearance of a woman, and that in mindand heart I am a man. Here is the method that I wish to follow withyou. As I ask only to acquire information for myself beforecommunicating to you my ideas, my intention is to propound them to theexcellent man with whom we supped yesterday. It is true that he hasnone too good an opinion of poor humanity. He believes neither invirtue nor in spiritual things. But this inflexibility, mitigated bymy indulgence for human frailties, will give you, I believe, the kindand the quantity of philosophy which is required in all intercoursewith women. Let us come to the gist of your letter. 

Since your entrance into the world it has offered you nothing, yousay, of what you had imagined you would find there. Disgust andweariness follow you everywhere. You seek solitude, and as soon asyou are enjoying it, it wearies you. In a word, you do not know towhat cause to attribute the restlessness which torments you. I amgoing to save you the trouble, I am, for my burden is to speak mythoughts on everything that may perplex you; and I do not know but youwill often ask me questions as embarrassing for me to answer as theymay have been for you to ask. 

The uneasiness which you experience is caused only by the void in yourheart. Your heart is without love, and it is trying to make youcomprehend its wants. You have really what one calls the "need ofloving. " Yes, Marquis, nature, in forming us, gave us an allowance ofsentiments which must expend themselves upon some object. Your age isthe proper period for the agitations of love; as long as thissentiment 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 loveis to fulfill the desire of nature, to satisfy a need. But ifpossible, manage it so that it will not become a passion. To protectyou from this misfortune, I could almost be tempted to disprove thecounsel given you, to prefer, to the company of women capable ofinspiring esteem rather than love, the intercourse of those who pridethemselves on being amusing rather than sedate and prim. At your age, being unable to think of entering into a serious engagement, it is notnecessary to find a friend in a woman; one should seek to find onlyan amiable mistress. 

The intercourse with women of lofty principles, or those whom theravages of time force into putting themselves forward only by virtueof great qualities, is excellent for a man who, like themselves, is onlife's decline. For you, these women would be too good company, if Idare so express myself. Riches are necessary to us only in proportionto our wants; and what you would better do, I think, is to frequentthe society of those who combine, with agreeable figure, gentleness inconversation, cheerfulness in disposition, a taste for the pleasuresof society, and strong enough not to be frightened by one affair ofthe heart. 

In the eyes of a man of reason they appear too frivolous, you willsay: but do you think they should be judged with so much severity? Bepersuaded, Marquis, that if, unfortunately, they should acquire morefirmness of character, they and you would lose much by it. You requirein women stability of character! Well, do you not find it in afriend?--Shall I tell you what is in my mind? It is not our virtuesyou need; but our playfulness and our weakness. The love which youcould feel for a woman who would be estimable in every respect, wouldbecome too dangerous for you. Until you can contemplate a contract ofmarriage, you should seek only to amuse yourself with those who arebeautiful; a passing taste alone should attach you to one of them: becareful not to plunge in too deep with her; there can nothing resultbut a bad ending. If you did not reflect more profoundly than thegreater part of young people, I should talk to you in an entirelydifferent tone; but I perceive that you are ready to give to excess, acontrary 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 thosepretty faults which make the charm of a gallant intercourse. 

Do you wish me to tell you what makes love dangerous? It is thesublime 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: anappetite which you have for one object in preference to another, without being able to give the reason for your taste. Considered as afriendly intimacy when reason presides, it is not a passion, it is nolonger love, it is, in truth, a warm hearted esteem, but tranquil;incapable of drawing you away from any fixed position. If, walking inthe footsteps of our ancient heroes of romance, you aim at greatsentiments, you will see that this pretended heroism makes of loveonly a sad and sometimes fatal folly. It is a veritable fanaticism;but if you disengage it from all that opinion makes it, it will soonbe your happiness and pleasure. Believe me, if it were reason orenthusiasm which formed affairs of the heart, love would becomeinsipid, or a frenzy. The only means of avoiding these two extremes isto follow the path I have indicated. You need only to be amused, andyou will find amusement only among the women I mention to you ascapable 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, Ihave just received a charming letter from M. De Saint-Evremond, and Imust answer it. I wish at the same time to propose to him the ideaswhich I have communicated to you, and I shall be very much mistaken ifhe 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 bemade. Take notice, Marquis, that those who do not conform to all Ihave 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 yourfirst sentiment. You wish a respectable person for a mistress, and onewho can at the same time be your friend. These sentiments wouldundoubtedly merit commendation if in reality they could bring you thehappiness you expect them to; but experience teaches you that allthose great expectations are pure illusions. Are serious qualities theonly question in pastimes of the heart? I might be tempted to believethat romances have impaired your mental powers. Poor Marquis! He hasallowed himself to become fascinated by the sublime talk common inconversation. But, my dear child, what do you mean to do with thesechimeras of reason? I willingly tell you, Marquis: it is very finecoin, but it is a pity that it can not enter into commercialtransactions. 

When you wish to begin housekeeping, look for a reliable woman, fullof virtue and lofty principles. All this is becoming to the dignity ofthe marriage tie; I intended to say, to its gravity. But at present, as you require nothing but a love affair, beware of being serious, andbelieve what I tell you; I know your wants better than you yourselfknow them. Men usually say that they seek essential qualities in thosethey love. Blind fools that they are! How they would complain couldthey find them! What would they gain by being deified? They need onlyamusement. A mistress as reasonable as you require would be a wife forwhom you would have an infinite respect, I admit, but not a particleof ardor. A woman estimable in all respects is too subduing, humiliates you too much, for you to love her long. Forced to esteemher, and even sometimes to admire her, you can not excuse yourself forceasing to love her. So many virtues are a reproach too discreet, tootiresome a critic of our eccentricities, not to arouse your pride atlast, and when that is humbled, farewell to love. Make a thoroughanalysis of your sentiments, examine well your conscience, and youwill see that I speak the truth. I have but a moment left to sayadieu. 

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 youshould take for a mistress a despicable object. That is not at all myidea. But I said that in reality you needed only a love affair, andthat, to make it pleasant, you should not attach yourself exclusivelyto substantial qualities. I repeat it; when in love, men need only tobe amused; and I believe on this subject I am an authority. Traces oftemper and caprice, a senseless quarrel, all this has more effect uponwomen, and retains their affection more than all the reasonimaginable, 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 alliedto beauty to be an antidote. I opposed this opinion with so muchanimation, that it could readily be seen that the contrary maxim wasmy sentiment, and I am, in truth, well persuaded that caprice is notclose to beauty, except to animate its charms in order to make themmore attractive, to serve as a goad, and to flavor them. There is nocolder sentiment, and none which endures less than admiration. Oneeasily becomes accustomed to see the same features, however regularthey may be, and when a little malignity does not give them life oraction, their very regularity soon destroys the sentiment they excite. A cloud of temper, even, can give to a beautiful countenance thenecessary variety, to prevent the weariness of seeing it always in thesame state. In a word, woe to the woman of too monotonous atemperament; her monotony satiates and disgusts. She is always thesame statue, with her a man is always right. She is so good, sogentle, that she takes away from people the privilege of quarrelingwith her, and this is often such a great pleasure! Put in her place avivacious woman, capricious, decided, to a certain limit, however, andthings assume a different aspect. The lover will find in the sameperson the pleasure of variety. Temper is the salt, the quality whichprevents 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 muchmore deliciously than the regularity of behavior, and the tiresomemonotony which is called "good disposition. "

I know how you men must be governed. A caprice puts you in anuncertainty, which you have as much trouble and grief in dispelling asthough it were a victory obtained over a new object. Roughness makesyou hold your breath. You do not stop disputing, but neither do youcease to conquer and to be conquered. In vain does reason sigh. Youcan not comprehend how such an imp manages to subjugate you sotyrannically. Everything tells you that the idol of your heart is acollection of caprices and follies, but she is a spoiled child, whomyou can not help but love. The efforts which reflection causes you tomake 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 awayin the heat of a quarrel. It loves, it storms; with it, everything isconvulsive. Would you reduce it to rule? It languishes, it expires. Ina word, this is what I wanted to say; do not take for a mistress awoman who has only reliable qualities; but one who is sometimesdominated by temper, and silences reason; otherwise I shall say thatit 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 andcaprices is very thorny for an acquaintance and in the end onlyrepels. I agree again that these irregularities must make of love anever ending quarrel, a continual storm. Therefore, it is not for aperson of this character that I advise you to form an attachment. Youalways go beyond my ideas. I only depicted to you in my last letter anamiable woman, one who becomes still more so by a shade of diversity, and you speak only of an unpleasant woman, who has nothing butungracious things to say. How we have drifted away from the point!

When I spoke of temper I only meant the kind which gives a strongerrelish, anxiety, and a little jealousy: that, in a word, which springsfrom love alone, and not from natural brutality, that roughness whichone ordinarily calls "bad temper. " When it is love which makes a womanrough, when that alone is the cause of her liveliness, what sort canthe lover be who has so little delicacy as to complain of it? Do notthese errors prove the violence of passion? For myself, I have alwaysthought that he who knew how to keep himself within proper bounds, was moderately amorous. Can one be so, in effect, without allowinghimself to be goaded by the fire of a devouring impetuosity, withoutexperiencing all the revolutions which it necessarily occasions? No, undoubtedly. Well! who can see all these disturbances in a belovedobject without a secret pleasure? While complaining of its injusticeand its transports, one feels no less deliciously at heart that he isloved, and with passion, and that these same aggravations are mostconvincing proofs that it is voluntary. 

There, Marquis, is what constitutes the secret charm of the troubleswhich lovers sometimes suffer, of the tears they shed. But if you aregoing to believe that I wished to tell you that a woman of bad temper, capricious, can make you happy, undeceive yourself. I said, and Ishall always persist in my idea, that diversity is necessary, caprices, bickerings, in a gallant intercourse, to drive awayweariness, and to perpetuate the strength of it. But consider thatthese spices do not produce that effect except when love itself is thesource. If temper is born of a natural brusqueness, or of a restless, envious, unjust disposition, I am the first one to say that such awoman will become hateful, she will be the cause of dishearteningquarrels. 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 invincibleargument, when you tell me that one is not the master of his ownheart, in disposing of it where he wishes, and that consequently youare not at liberty to choose the object of your attachment? Morals ofthe opera! Abandon this commonplace to women who expect, in saying so, to justify their weaknesses. It is very necessary that they shouldhave something to which to cling: like the gentleman of whom ourfriend Montaigne speaks who, when the gout attacked him, would havebeen very angry if he had not been able to say: "Cursed ham!" They sayit is a sympathetic stroke. That is too strong for me. Is anyonemaster of his heart? He is no longer permitted to reply when such goodreasons are given. They have even so well sanctioned these maxims thatthey wish to attract everyone to their arms in order to try toovercome them. But these same maxims find so much approbation onlybecause everyone is interested in having them received. No onesuspects that such excuses, far from justifying caprices, may be aconfession that one does not wish to correct them. 

For myself, I take the liberty of being of a different opinion fromthe multitude. It is enough for me that it is not impossible toconquer one's inclination to condemn all those who are unreasonable ordishonorable. Dear me! Have we not seen women succeed in destroying intheir hearts a weakness which has taken them by surprise, as soon asthey have discovered that the object of their affections was unworthyof them? How often have they stifled the most tender affection, andsacrificed it to the conventionalities of an establishment? Rest, time, absence, are remedies which passion, however ardent one may havesupposed it, can never resist; insensibly it weakens, and dies all atonce. I know that to withdraw honorably from such a liaison requiresall the strength of reason. I comprehend still more, that thedifficulties you imagine stand in the way of maintaining a victory, donot leave you enough courage to undertake it; so that, although I maysay that there are no invincible inclinations in the speculation, Iwill admit that there are few of them to be vanquished by practice;and it happens so, only because one does not like to attempt withoutsuccess. However that may be, on the whole, I imagine that there beinghere only a question of gallantry, it would be folly to put you to thetorture, in order to destroy the inclination which has seized upon youfor a woman more or less amiable; but also, because you are notsmitten with anyone, I persist in saying that I was right indescribing to you the character which I believed would be the mostcapable of making you happy. 

It is without doubt to be desired, that delicate sentiments, realmerit, should have more power over our hearts, and that they might beable to occupy them and find a permanent place there forever. Butexperience proves that this is not so. I do not reason from what youshould be, but from what you really are. My intention is to give you aknowledge of the heart such as it is, and not what it ought to be. Iam the first one to regret the depravity of your taste, howeverindulgent I may be to your caprices. But not being able to reform thevices of the heart, I would at least teach you to draw out of themwhatever good you can. Not being able to render you wise, I try tomake you happy. It is an old saying: to wish to destroy the passionswould be to undertake our annihilation. It is only necessary toregulate 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 qualitiesthat you can succeed in pleasing women? It is simply a question ofknowing what meaning you attach to this expression. Do you callessential qualities, worth, firmness of character, precision ofjudgment, extent of learning, prudence, discretion, how can I tell thenumber of virtues which often embarrass you more than they make youhappy? Our minds are not in accord upon this matter. Reserve all thequalities I have specified for the intercourse you are obliged to havewith men, they are quite proper under such circumstances. But when itcomes to gallantry, you will have to change all such virtues for anequal number of charming traits; those that captivate, it is the onlycoin that passes current in this country; it is the only merit, andyou must be on your guard against calling it spurious money. It may bethat true merit consists less in real perfection than in that whichthe world requires. It is far more advantageous to possess thequalities agreeable to those whom we desire to please, than to havethose we believe to be estimable. In a word, we must imitate themorals and even the caprices of those with whom we associate, if weexpect to live in peace with them. 

What is the destiny of women? What is their rôle on earth? It is toplease. Now, a charming figure, personal graces, in a word, all theamiable and brilliant qualities are the only means of succeeding inthat role. Women possess them to a superlative degree, and it is inthese qualities that they wish men to resemble them. It will be vainfor you to accuse them of frivolity, for they are playing the beautyrôle, since they are destined to make you happy. Is it not, indeed, due to the charm of our companionship, to the gentleness of ourmanners, that you owe your most satisfying pleasures, your socialvirtues, in fact, your whole happiness? Have some good faith in thismatter. Is it possible for the sciences of themselves, the love ofglory, valor, nay, even that friendship of which you boast so much, tomake you perfectly happy? The pleasure you draw from any of them, canit be keen enough to make you feel happy? Certainly not. None of themhave the power to relieve you from a wearisome monotony which crushesyou and makes you an object of pity. 

It is women who have taken upon themselves to dissipate these mortallanguors by the vivacious gayety they inject into their society; bythe charms they know so well how to lavish where they will proveeffectual. A reckless joy, an agreeable delirium, a deliciousintoxication, are alone capable of awakening your attention, andmaking you understand that you are really happy, for, Marquis, thereis a vast difference between merely enjoying happiness and relishingthe sensation of enjoying it. The possession of necessary things doesnot make a man comfortable, it is the superfluous which makes himrich, and which makes him feel that he is rich. 

It is not because you possess superior qualities that you are apleasant 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 notsucceed in any other manner, particularly with women. Tell me, whatwould you have me do with your learning, the geometry of your mind, with the precision of your memory, etc. ? If you have only suchadvantages, Marquis, if you have no charming accomplishments to offsetyour 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, andyou will place them under so much constraint, that the enjoyment theymight have permitted themselves in your society will be banished. Why, indeed, try to be amiable toward a man who is a source of anxiety toyou by his nonchalance, who does not unbosom himself? Women are not attheir ease except with those who take chances with them, and enterinto their spirit. In a word, too much circumspection gives others achill like that felt by a man who goes out of a warm room into a coldwind. I intended to say that habitual reserve locks the doors of thehearts 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 favorablecircumstances. You must have read somewhere, that one pleases more byagreeable faults than by essential qualities. Great virtues are likepieces 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 ofmoney, use shells as their medium of exchange. Well, do you imaginethat these people are not so rich as we with all the treasures of thenew world? We might, at first blush, take this sort of wealth asactual poverty, but we should be quickly undeceived upon reflection, for metals have no value except in opinion. Our gold would be falsemoney to those people. Now, the qualities you call essential are notworth any more in cases of gallantry, where only pebbles aresufficient. What matters the conventional mark provided there iscommerce?

Now, this is my conclusion: If it be true, as you can not doubt, thatyou ought not to expect happiness except from an interchange ofagreeable qualities in women, you may be sure that you will neverplease them unless you possess advantages similar to theirs. I stickto the point. You men are constantly boasting about your science, yourfirmness, etc. , but tell me, how weary would you not be, how disgustedeven, with life, if, always logical, you were condemned to be foreverlearned and sordid, to live only in the company of philosophers? Iknow you, you would soon become weary of admiration for your goodqualities, and the way you are made, you would rather do withoutvirtue than pleasure. Do not amuse yourself, then, by holdingyourself out as a man with great qualities in the sense you considerthem. 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 ofthis world. 

VIII

The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause. 

This time, Marquis, you have not far to go, your hour has come. Thediagnosis you give me of your condition tells me that you are in love. The young widow you mention is certainly capable of rousing aninspiration in your heart. The Chevalier de ---- has given me a veryfavorable portrait of her. But scarcely do you begin to feel a fewscruples, than you turn into a crime the advice I have been givingyou. The disorder which love brings to the soul, and the other evilswhich follow in its train, appear to you, so you say, more to befeared than the pleasures it gives are to be desired. 

It is true that some very good people are of the opinion that thesorrows of love are about equal to its pleasures, but without enteringupon a tiresome discussion to ascertain whether they are right orwrong, if you would have my opinion, here it is: Love is a passionwhich is neither good nor bad of itself; it is only those who areaffected by it that determine whether it is good or bad. All that Ishall say in its favor is, that it gives us an advantage with whichany of the discomforts of life can not enter into comparison. It dragsus out of the rut, it stirs us up, and it is love which satisfies oneof our most pressing wants. I think I have already told you that ourhearts are made for emotion; to excite it therefore, is to satisfy ademand of nature. What would vigorous youth be without love? A longillness: it would not be existence, it would be vegetating. Love is toour hearts what winds are to the sea. They grow into tempests, true;they are sometimes even the cause of shipwrecks. But the winds renderthe sea navigable, their constant agitation of its surface is thecause of its preservation, and if they are often dangerous, it is forthe pilot to know how to navigate in safety. 

But I have wandered from my text, and return to it. Though I shockyour sensitive delicacy by my frank speaking, I shall add, thatbesides the need of having our emotions stirred, we have in connectionwith them a physical machinery, which is the primitive cause andnecessity of love. Perhaps it is not too modest for a woman to usesuch language to you, but you will understand that I would not talk toevery one so plainly. We are not engaged in what may be called "nice"conversation, we are philosophizing. If my discussions seem to you tobe sometimes too analytical for a woman, remember what I told you inmy last letter. From the time I was first able to reason, I made up mymind to investigate and ascertain which of the two sexes was the morefavored. I saw that men were not at all stinted in the distribution ofthe 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 badthing to fall in love. I would prefer to have you ask whether it isgood or bad to be thirsty; or, that it be forbidden to give one adrink because there are men who become intoxicated. Inasmuch as youare not at liberty to divest yourself of an appetite belonging to themechanical part of your nature, as could our ancient romancers, do notruin yourself by speculating and meditating on the greater or lessadvantages in loving. Take love as I have advised you to take it, onlydo not let it be to you a passion, only an amusement. 

I understand what you are going to say: you are going to overwhelm meagain with your great principles, and tell me that a man has notsufficient control over his feelings to stop when he would. Pooh! Iregard 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 occasionof a loss or accident, which his friends consider great, but which isnothing to him. Such a man feels less than any one the need ofconsolation, but he finds pleasure in showing his tears. He rejoicesto know that he possesses a heart capable of excessive emotion, andthis softens it still more. He feeds it with sorrow, he makes an idolof it, and offers it incense so often that he acquires the habit. Allsuch admirers of great and noble sentiments, spoiled by romances or byprudes, make it a point of honor to spiritualize their passion. Byforce of delicate treatment, they become all the more infatuated withit, as they deem it to be their own work, and they fear nothing somuch as the shame of returning to common sense and resuming theirmanhood. 

Let us take good care, Marquis, not to make ourselves ridiculous inthis way. This fashion of straining our intelligence is nothing more, in the age in which we are living, than playing the part of fools. Informer times people took it into their heads that love should besomething grave, they considered it a serious matter, and esteemed itonly in proportion to its dignity. Imagine exacting dignity from achild! Away would go all its graces, and its youth would soon becomeconverted into old age. How I pity our good ancestors! What with themwas a mortal weariness, a melancholy frenzy, is with us a gay folly, adelicious delirium. Fools that they were, they preferred the horrorsof deserts and rocks, to the pleasures of a garden strewn withflowers. What prejudices the habit of reflection has brought upon us!

The proof that great sentiments are nothing but chimeras of pride andprejudice, is, that in our day, we no longer witness that taste forancient mystic gallantry, no more of those old fashioned giganticpassions. Ridicule the most firmly established opinions, I will gofurther, deride the feelings that are believed to be the most naturaland soon both will disappear, and men will stand amazed to see thatideas for which they possessed a sort of idolatry, are in realitynothing but trifles which pass away like the ever changing fashions. 

You will understand, then, Marquis, that it is not necessary toacquire the habit of deifying the fancy you entertain for theCountess. 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 canmake you understand more clearly the truth of what I am telling you, than the result of your adventure, for I believe the Countess to bethe last woman in the world to harbor a sorrowful passion. You, withyour high sentiments will give her the blues, mark what I tell you. 

My indisposition continues, and I would feel like telling you that Inever go out during the day, but would not that be giving you arendezvous? If, however, you should come and give me your opinion ofthe "Bajazet" of Racine, you would be very kind. They say that theChampmesle has surpassed herself. 

I have read over this letter, Marquis, and the lecture it containsputs me out of humor with you. I recognize the fact that truth is acontagious disease. Judge how much of it goes into love, since youbestow it even upon those who aim to undeceive you. It is quitestrange, that in order to prove that love should be treated withlevity, 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 inyour mind is proof of it. You can not realize, or imagine anythingless than the pure and delicate sentiments which fill your heart. Tosee the Countess, hold sweet discourse with her, listen to the soundof her gentle voice, dance attendance upon her, that is the height ofyour desires, it is your supreme happiness. Far from you are thosevulgar sentiments which I unworthily substitute for your sublimemetaphysics; sentiments created for worldly souls occupied solely withsensual pleasures. What a mistake I made! Could I imagine that theCountess was a woman to be captured by motives so little worthy ofher? 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 toapprehend? My poor Marquis! you are yourself deceived by yourmisunderstanding of the real cause of your sentiments. Give me allyour attention: I wish to draw you away from error, but in a mannerthat will best accord with the importance of what I am about to say. Imount the tribune; I feel the presence of the god who inspires me. Irub my forehead with the air of a person who meditates on profoundtruths, and who is going to utter great thoughts. I am going to reasonaccording to rule. 

Men, I know not by what caprice, have attached shame to the indulgenceof that reciprocal inclination which nature has bestowed upon bothsexes. They knew, however, that they could not entirely stifle itsvoice, so what did they do to relieve themselves of theirembarrassment? They attempted to substitute the mere shell of anaffection wholly spiritual for the humiliating necessity of appearingin good faith to satisfy a natural want. Insensibly, they have grownaccustomed to meddle with a thousand little sublime nothings connectedwith it, and as if that were not enough, they have at last succeededin establishing the belief that all these frivolous accessories, thework of a heated imagination, constitute the essence of theinclination. There you are; love erected into a fine virtue; at leastthey have given it the appearance of a virtue. But let us breakthrough this prestige and cite an example. 

At the beginning of their intercourse, lovers fancy themselvesinspired by the noblest and most delicate sentiments. They exhausttheir ingenuity, exaggerations, the enthusiasm of the most exquisitemetaphysics; they are intoxicated for a time with the idea that theirlove 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 theheart at liberty to feel and express its sentiments without restraint, and dissatisfied with the pleasures of love, the day comes when thesepeople are very much surprised to find themselves, after havingtraveled around a long circuit, at the very point where a peasant, acting according to nature, would have begun. And thereby hangs atale. 

A certain Honesta, to give her a fictitious name, in whose presence Iwas one day upholding the theory I have just been maintaining, becamefurious. 

"What!" she exclaimed in a transport of indignation, "do you pretend, Madame, that a virtuous person, one who possesses only honestintentions, such as marriage, is actuated by such vulgar motives? Youwould believe, in that case, that I, for instance, who 'par vertu, 'have been married three times, and who, to subdue my husbands, havenever wished to have a separate apartment, that I only acted thus toprocure what you call pleasure? Truly you would be very much mistaken. Indeed, never have I refused to fulfill the duties of my state, but Iassure you that the greater part of the time, I yielded to them onlythrough complaisance, or as a distraction, always with regret at theimportunities of men. We love men and marry them because they havecertain qualities of mind and heart; and no woman, with the exceptionof those, perhaps, whom I do not care to name, even attaches anyimportance to other advantages----"

I interrupted her, and more through malice than good taste, carriedthe argument to its logical conclusion. I made her see that what shesaid 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 ordinarylovers, perhaps, even in better faith, with this difference only, thatthey 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 youbelieve it, Marquis? This prude so refined, had such frequent'distractions' with her three husbands, who were all young andvigorous, that she buried them in a very short time. 

Come now, Marquis, retract your error; abandon your chimera, reservedelicacy of sentiment for friendship; accept love for what it is. Themore dignity you give it, the more dangerous you make it; the moresublime the idea you form of it, the less correct it is. Believe de laRochefoucauld, a man who knows the human heart well: "If you expect tolove a woman for love of herself, " says he, "you will be muchmistaken. "

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. AllI have told you does not reassure you. You even esteem it a favor tome that you stop with doubting my principles. If you dared you wouldcondemn them entirely. When you talk to me in that fashion, I feel atliberty to say that I believe you. It is not your fault if you do notsee clearly into your own affair, but in proportion as you advance, the cloud will disappear, and you will perceive with surprise thetruth of what I have been telling you. 

The more cold blooded you are, or at least, as long as passion has notyet reached that degree of boldness its progress will ultimately leadyou to, the mere hope of the smallest favor is a crime; you tremble atthe most innocent caress. At first you ask for nothing, or for soslight a favor, that a woman conscientiously believes herself obligedto grant it, delighted with you on account of your modesty. To obtainthis slight favor, you protest never to ask another, and yet, evenwhile making your protestations, you are preparing to exact more. Shebecomes accustomed to it and permits further trifling, which seems tobe of so little importance that she would endure it from any otherman, if she were on the slightest terms of intimacy with him. But, tojudge from the result, what appears to be of so little consequence onone day when compared with the favor obtained the day before, becomesvery considerable when compared with that obtained on the first day. Awoman, re-assured by your discretion, does not perceive that herfrailties are being graduated upon a certain scale. She is so muchmistress of herself, and the little things which are at first exacted, appear to her to be so much within her power of refusal, that sheexpects to possess the same strength when something of a gravercharacter is proposed to her. It is just this way: she flattersherself that her power of resistance will increase in the sameproportion with the importance of the favors she will be called uponto grant. She relies so entirely upon her virtue, that she challengesdanger by courting it. She experiments with her power of resistance;she wishes to see how far the granting of a few unimportant favors canlead her. Here is where she is imprudent, for by her very rashness sheaccustoms her imagination to contemplate suggestions which are thefinal cause of her seduction. She travels a long way on the roadwithout perceiving that she has moved a single step. If upon lookingback along the route, she is surprised at having yielded so much, herlover will be no less surprised at having obtained so much. 

But I go still further. I am persuaded that love is not alwaysnecessary to bring about the downfall of a woman. I knew a woman, who, although amiable in her manner with everybody, had never beensuspected of any affair of the heart. Fifteen years of married lifehad not diminished her tenderness for her husband, and their happyunion could be cited as an example to imitate. 

One day at her country place, her friends amused themselves so latethat they were constrained to remain at her house all night. In themorning, her servants happening to be occupied with her guests, shewas alone in her apartment engaged in making her toilet. A man whomshe knew quite well, but who was without social position, dropped infor a short visit and to pass the compliments of the day. Someperplexity in her toilette, induced him to offer his services. Theneglige dress she wore, naturally gave him an opportunity tocompliment her upon her undiminished charms. Of course she protested, but laughingly, claiming they were unmerited. However, one thingfollowed another, they became a trifle sentimental, a fewfamiliarities which they did not at first deem of any consequence, developed into something more decided, until, finally, unable toresist, they were both overcome, the woman being culpable, for sheregarded his advances in the nature of a joke and let them run on. What was their embarrassment after such a slip? They have never sincebeen able to understand how they could have ventured so far withouthaving had the slightest intention of so doing. 

I am tempted to exclaim here: Oh, you mortals who place too muchreliance upon your virtue, tremble at this example! Whatever may beyour strength, there are, unfortunately, moments when the mostvirtuous is the most feeble. The reason for this strange phenomenonis, that nature is always on the watch; always aiming to attain herends. 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 deludesherself if she expects to maintain to the end, sentiments so severeand so delicate. Fix this fact well in your mind, Marquis, that thesefemale metaphysicians are not different in their nature from otherwomen. Their exterior is more imposing, their morals more austere, butinquire into their acts, and you will discover that their heartaffairs always finish the same as those of women less refined. Theyare a species of the "overnice, " forming a class of their own, as Itold Queen Christine of Sweden, one day: "They are the Jansenists oflove. " (Puritans. )

You should be on your guard, Marquis, against everything women have tosay on the chapter of gallantry. All the fine systems of which theymake such a pompous display, are nothing but vain illusions, whichthey utilize to astonish those who are easily deceived. In the eyes ofa clear sighted man, all this rubbish of stilted phrases is but aparade at which he mocks, and which does not prevent him frompenetrating their real sentiments. The evil they speak of love, theresistance they oppose to it, the little taste they pretend for itspleasures, the measures they take against it, the fear they have ofit, all that springs from love itself. Their very manner renders ithomage, indicates that they harbor the thought of it. Love assumes athousand different forms in their minds. Like pride, it lives andflourishes upon its own defeat; it is never overthrown that it doesnot spring up again with renewed force. 

What a letter, good heavens! To justify its length would be tolengthen it still more. 

XI

The Distinction Between Love and Friendship

I was delighted with your letter, Marquis. Do you know why? Because itgives me speaking proof of the truth of what I have been preaching toyou these latter days. Ah! for once you have forgotten all yourmetaphysics. You picture to me the charms of the Countess with acomplacency which demonstrates that your sentiments are not altogetherso high flown as you would have me believe, and as you think down inyour heart. Tell me frankly: if your love were not the work of thesenses, would you take so much pleasure in considering that form, those eyes which enchant you, that mouth which you describe to me insuch glowing colors? If the qualities of heart and mind alone seduceyou, a woman of fifty is worth still more in that respect than theCountess. You see such a one every day, it is her mother; why notbecome enamored of her instead? Why neglect a hundred women of herage, of her plainness, and of her merit, who make advances to you, andwho would enact the same role with you that you play with theCountess? Why do you desire with so much passion to be distinguishedby her from other men? Why are you uneasy when she shows them theleast courtesy? Does her esteem for them diminish that which shepretends for you? Are rivalries and jealousies recognized inmetaphysics? I believe not I have friends and I do not observe suchthings in them; I feel none in my own heart when they love otherwomen. 

Friendship is a sentiment which has nothing to do with the senses; thesoul alone receives the impression of it, and the soul loses nothingof its value by giving itself up to several at the same time. Comparefriendship with love, and you will perceive the difference between adesire which governs a friend, and that which offers itself to alover. You will confess, that at heart, I am not so unreasonable asyou at first thought, and that it might be very well if it shouldhappen that in love, you might have a soul as worldly as that of agood many people, whom it pleases you to accuse of very littlerefinement. 

I do not wish, however, to bring men alone to trial. I am frank, and Iam quite sure that if women would be honest, they would soon confessthat they are not a bit more refined than men. Indeed, if they saw inlove only the pleasures of the soul, if they hoped to please only bytheir mental accomplishments and their good character, honestly, now, would they apply themselves with such particular care to please by thecharms of their person? What is a beautiful skin to the soul; anelegant figure; a well shaped arm? What contradictions between theirreal sentiments and those they exhibit on parade! Look at them, andyou will be convinced that they have no intention of making themselvesvalued except by their sensual attractions, and that they counteverything else as nothing. Listen to them: you will be tempted tobelieve that it is not worldly things which they consider the least. Ithink I deserve credit for trying to dispel your error in thisrespect, and ought I not to expect everything from the care they willtake to undeceive you themselves? Perhaps they will succeed only tooeasily in expressing sentiments entirely contrary to those you haveheard to-day from me. 

I am due at Mademoiselle de Raymond's this evening, to hear the twoCamus and Ytier who are going to sing. Mesdames de la Sablière, deSalins, and de Monsoreau will also be there. Would you miss such afine company?

XII

A Man in Love is an Amusing Spectacle

You take things too much to heart, Marquis. Already two nights thatyou have not slept. Oh! it is true love, there is no mistaking that. You have made your eyes speak, you, yourself, have spoken quiteplainly, and not the slightest notice has been taken of yourcondition. Such behavior calls for revenge. Is it possible that aftereight whole days of devoted attention she has not given you the leasthope? Such a thing can not be easily imagined. Such a long resistancebegins to pass beyond probability. The Countess is a heroine of thelast century. But if you are beginning to lose patience, you canimagine the length of time you would have had to suffer, if you hadcontinued to proclaim grand and noble sentiments. You have alreadyaccomplished more in eight days than the late Celadon could in eightmonths. However, to speak seriously, are your complaints just? Youcall the Countess ungrateful, insensible, disdainful, etc. But by whatright do you talk thus? Will you never believe what I have told you ahundred times? Love is a veritable caprice, involuntary, even in onewho experiences its pangs. Why should, you say that the beloved objectis bound to recompense a blind sentiment acquired without herconnivance?

You are very queer, you men. You consider yourselves offended becausea woman does not respond with eagerness to the languishing looks youdeign to cast upon her. Your revolted pride immediately accuses her ofinjustice, as if it were her fault that your head is turned; as if shewere obliged, at a certain stage, to be seized with the same diseaseas you. Tell me this: is the Countess responsible if she is notafflicted with the same delirium as soon as you begin to rave? Cease, then, to accuse her and to complain, and to try to communicate yourmalady to her; I know you, you are seductive enough. Perhaps she willfeel, too soon for her peace of mind, sentiments commensurate withyour 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 seriousattachment. 

Vivacious, inconsistent, positive, decided, she can not fail to giveyou plenty of exercise. An attentive and caressing woman would wearyyou; you must be handled in a military fashion, if you are to beamused and retained. As soon as the mistress assumes the rôle oflover, 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 littlemistress who is the cause of your dolorous martyrdom? Poor Marquis!What storms will blow over you. What quarrels I foresee! How manyvexations, how many threats to leave her! But do not forget this: Somuch emotion will become your punishment, if you treat love after themanner of a hero of romance, and you will meet a fate entirely thecontrary if you treat it like a reasonable man. 

But ought I to continue to write you? The moments you employ to readmy letters will be so many stolen from love. Great Heavens! how Ishould like to be a witness of your situations! Indeed, for asober-minded person, is there a spectacle more amusing than thecontortions of a man in love?

XIII

Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love. 

You are not satisfied, then, Marquis, with what I so cavalierly saidabout your condition? You wish me by all means to consider youradventure 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 myprinciples? I speak lightly of a thing I believe to be frivolous, orsimply amusing. When it comes to an affair on which depends a lastinghappiness, you will see me take on an appropriate tone. I do not wantto pity you, because it depends upon yourself whether you are to bepitied or not. By a trick of your imagination, what now appears to bea pain to you may become a pleasure. To succeed, make use of my recipeand you will find it good. But to refer to the second paragraph ofyour letter:

You say you are all the more surprised at the coldness of the Countessas you did not think it in earnest. According to what you say, yourconjectures are based on the indiscretions of her friends. The goodshe spoke about you to them, was the main cause of your taking a fancyto her. I know men by this trait. The smallest word that escapes awoman's lips leads them into the belief that she has designs uponthem. Everything has some reference to their merits; their vanityseizes upon everything, and they turn everything into profit. Toexamine them closely, nearly all of them love through gratitude, andon this point, women are not any more reasonable. So that gallantry isan intercourse in which we want the others to go along with us, alwayswant to be their debtors. And you know pride is much more active inpaying back than in giving. If two lovers would mutually explain, without reservation, the beginning and progress of their passion, whatconfidences would they not exchange?

Elise, to whom Valère uttered a few general compliments, responded, perhaps without intending to, in a more affectionate manner than isusual in the case of such insipidities. It was enough. Valère iscarried away with the idea that from a gallant he must become a lover. The fire is insensibly kindled on both sides; finally, it burstsforth, and there you are, a budding passion. If you should chargeElise with having made the first advances, nothing would appear moreunjust to her, and yet nothing could be more true. I conclude fromthis that to take love for what it really is, it is less the work ofwhat is called invincible sympathy, than that of our vanity. Noticethe birth of all love affairs. They begin by the mutual praises webestow upon each other. It has been said that it is folly whichconducts love; I should say that it is flattery, and that it can notbe introduced into the heart of a belle until after paying tribute toher vanity. Add to all this, the general desire and inclination wehave to be loved, and we are bravely deceived. Like those enthusiastswho, by force of imagination, believe they can really see the imagesthey conjure up in their minds, we fancy that we can see in others thesentiments we desire to find there. 

Be careful, then, Marquis, not to let yourself be blinded by a falsenotion. The Countess may have spoken well of you with the sole objectof doing you justice, without carrying her intention any farther. Andbe sure you are wrong when you suspect her of insincerity in yourregard. After all, why should you not prefer to have her dissemble hersentiments toward you, if you are the source of their inspiration? Arenot women in the right to hide carefully their sentiments from you, and does not the bad use you make of the certainty of their lovejustify 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 youreceive from me. Without doubt, she thought that if it were a questionof gallantry, it could only be to my profit; she now knows thecontrary. She will also know that I am not so frivolous as sheimagined, and I believe her just enough to form hereafter another ideaof Ninon than the one she has heretofore had of her, for I am notignorant of the fact that she does not speak of me much to myadvantage. But her injustice will never influence my friendship foryou. I am philosophic enough to console myself for not securing thecommendation of people who judge me without knowing me. Whatever mayhappen, 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, Icome to what relates to you. 

Well, Marquis, after infinite care and trouble, you think you have atlast softened that stony heart? I am glad of it; but I laugh at yourinterpretation of the Countess' sentiments. You share with all men acommon error which it is necessary to remove, however flattering itmay be to you to foster it. You believe, every one of you, that it isyour worth alone that kindles passion in the heart of women, and thatqualities of heart and mind are the causes of the love they feeltoward you. What a mistake! You only think so, it is true, becauseyour pride finds satisfaction in the thought. But, if you can do sowithout prejudice, inquire into the motives that actuate you, and youwill soon perceive that you are laboring under a delusion, and that wedeceive you; that, everything well considered, you are the dupe ofyour vanity and of ours; that the worth of the person loved is only anexcuse which gives an occasion for love, and is not the real cause. Finally, that all this sublime by-play, which is paraded on bothsides, is a mere preliminary which enters into the desire to satisfythe need I first indicated to you as the prime exciting cause of thispassion. I tell you this is a hard and humiliating truth, but it isnone the less certain. We women enter the world with this necessity ofloving undefined, and if we take one man in preference to another, letus say so honestly, we yield less to the knowledge of merit than to amechanical instinct which is nearly always blind. 

For proof of this I need only refer to the foolish passions with whichwe sometimes become intoxicated for strangers, or at least for menwith whom we are not sufficiently acquainted, to relieve our selectionof them from the odium of imprudence from the beginning; in which caseif there is a mutual response, well, it is pure chance. We are alwaysforming attachments without sufficient circumspection, hence I am notwrong in comparing love to an appetite which one sometimes feels forone kind of food rather than for another, without being able to givethe reason. I am very cruel to thus dissipate the phantoms of yourself love, but I am telling you the truth. You are flattered by thelove of a woman, because you believe it implies the worthiness of theobject loved. You do her too much honor: let us say rather, that youhave too good an opinion of yourself. Understand that it is not foryourself that we love you, to speak with sincerity, it is our ownhappiness we seek. Caprice, interest, vanity, disposition, theuneasiness that affects our hearts when they are unoccupied, these arethe sources of the great sentiment we wish to deify! It is not greatqualities that affect us; if they enter for anything into the reasonswhich determine us in your favor, it is not the heart which receivesthe impression, it is vanity; and the greater part of the things inyou which please us, very often makes you ridiculous or contemptible. 

But, what will you have? We need an admirer who can entertain us withideas of our perfections; we need an obliging person who will submitto our caprices; we need a man! Chance presents us with one ratherthan another; we accept him, but we do not choose him. In a word, youbelieve yourselves to be the objects of our disinterested affection. Irepeat: You think women love you for yourselves. Poor dupes! You areonly the instruments of their pleasures, the sport of their caprices. I must, however, do women justice; it is not that you are what I havejust enumerated with their consent, for the sentiments which I develophere are not well defined in their minds, on the contrary, with thebest faith in the world, women imagine themselves influenced andactuated only by the grand ideas which your vanity and theirs hasnourished. It would be a crying injustice to accuse them of deceit inthis 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 ofmy friendship, since, at the expense of my own sex, I labor toenlighten you. The better you know women, the fewer follies they willlead you to commit. 

XV

The Hidden Motives of Love

Really, Marquis, I do not understand how you can meekly submit to theserious language I sometimes write you. It seems as if I had no otheraim in my letters than to sweep away your agreeable illusions andsubstitute mortifying truths. I must, however, get rid of my mania forsaying deeply considered things. I know better than any one else thatpleasant lies are more agreeable than the most reasonableconversation, but my disposition breaks through everything in spite ofme. I feel a fit of philosophy upon me again to-day, and I must askyou to prepare to endure the broadside of morality I am making readyto give you. Hereafter, I promise you more gayety. So now to answeryour letter. 

No, I will not take back anything. You may make war on me as much asit please you, because of the bad opinion of my sex I expressed in mylast letter. Is it my fault if I am furnished with disagreeable truthsto utter? Besides, do you not know, Marquis, that the being on earthwho thinks the most evil of women, is a woman?

I wish, however, very seriously, to justify the ideas, to my manner ofexpressing which you have taken an exception. I am neither envious norunjust. Because I happened to mention my own sex rather than yours, you must not imagine that it is my intention to underrate women. Ihoped to make you understand that, without being more culpable thanmen, they are more dangerous because they are accustomed moresuccessfully to hide their sentiments. In effect, you will confess theobject of your love sooner than they will acknowledge theirs. However, when they assure you that their affection for you has no other sourcethan a knowledge of your merit and of your good qualities, I ampersuaded that they are sincere. I do not even doubt that when theyrealize that their style of thought is becoming less refined, they doeverything in their power to hide the fact from themselves. But themotives, about which I have been telling you, are in the bottom oftheir hearts just the same. They are none the less the true causes ofthe liking they have for you, and whatever efforts they may make topersuade themselves that the causes are wholly spiritual, their desirechanges nothing in the nature of things. They hide this deformity withas much care as they would conceal teeth that might disfigure anotherwise perfect face. In such case, even when alone they would beafraid to open their mouth, and so, by force of habit in hiding thisdefect from others as well as from themselves, they succeed inforgetting all about it or in considering that it is not much of adefect. 

I agree with you that you would lose too much if men and women were toshow themselves in their true colors. The world has agreed to play acomedy, and to show real, natural sentiments would not be acting, itwould be substituting the real character for the one it has beenagreed to feign. Let us then enjoy the enchantment without seeking toknow the cause of the charm which amuses and seduces us. To anatomizelove would be to enter upon its cure. Psyche lost it for having beentoo curious, and I am tempted to believe that this fable is a lessonfor those who wish to analyze pleasure. 

I wish to make some corrections in what I have said to you: If I toldyou that men are wrong in priding themselves on their choice of awoman, and their sentiments for her; if I said that the motives whichactuate them are nothing less than glorious for the men, I desire toadd, that they are equally deceived if they imagine that thesentiments which they show with so much pompous display are alwayscreated by force of female charms, or by an abiding impression oftheir merits. How often does it happen that those men who makeadvances with such a respectful air, who display such delicate andrefined sentiments, so flattering to vanity, who, in a word, seem tobreathe only through them, only for them, and have no other desirethan their happiness; how often, I repeat, are those men, who adornthemselves with such beautiful sentiments, influenced by reasonsentirely the contrary? Study, penetrate these good souls, and you willsee in the heart of this one, instead of a love so disinterested, onlydesire; 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 youwill discover motives still more humiliating to you; he will use youto rouse the jealousy of some woman he really loves, and he willcultivate your friendship merely to distinguish himself in her eyes byrejecting you. I can not tell you how many motives, there are so many. The human heart is an insolvable enigma. It is a whimsical combinationof all the known contrarieties. We think we know its workings; we seetheir effects; we ignore the cause. If it expresses its sentimentssincerely, even that sincerity is not reassuring. Perhaps itsmovements spring from causes entirely contrary to those we imagine wefeel to be the real ones. But, after all, people have adopted the bestplan, that is, to explain everything to their advantage, and tocompensate themselves in imagination for their real miseries, andaccustom themselves, as I think I have already said, to deifying alltheir sentiments. Inasmuch as everybody finds in that the summit ofhis vanity, nobody has ever thought of reforming the custom, or ofexamining it to see whether it is a mistake. 

Adieu; if you desire to come this evening you will find me with thosewhose 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 continuesobdurate? The flippant manner in which she receives your attentionsreveals an indifference which grieves you? I think I have guessed thesecret of the riddle. I know you. You are gay, playful, conceitedeven, with women as long as they do not impress you. But with thosewho have made an impression upon your heart, I have noticed that youare timid. This quality might affect a bourgeoise, but you must attackthe heart of a woman of the world with other weapons. The Countessknows the ways of the world. Believe me, and leave to the Celadons, such things as sublime talk, beautiful sentiments; let them spin outperfection. I tell you on behalf of women: there is not one of us whodoes not prefer a little rough handling to too much consideration. Menlose through blundering more hearts than virtue saves. 

The more timidity a lover shows with us the more it concerns our prideto goad him on; the more respect he has for our resistance, the morerespect we demand of him. We would willingly say to you men: "Ah, inpity's name do not suppose us to be so very virtuous; you are forcingus to have too much of it. Do not put so high a price upon yourconquest; do not treat our defeat as if it were something difficult. Accustom our imagination by degrees to seeing you doubt ourindifference. "

When we see a lover, although he may be persuaded of our gratitude, treat us with the consideration demanded by our vanity, we shallconclude without being aware of it, that he will always be the same, although sure of our inclination for him. From that moment, whatconfidence will he not inspire? What flattering progress may he notmake? But if he notifies us to be always on our guard, then it is notour hearts we shall defend; it will not be a battle to preserve ourvirtue, but our pride; and that is the worst enemy to be conquered inwomen. What more is there to tell you? We are continually strugglingto hide the fact that we have permitted ourselves to be loved. Put awoman in a position to say that she has yielded only to a species ofviolence, 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 noteven let her see that she distinguishes you from other men, and be asplayful as she is light hearted. Fix yourself in her heart withoutgiving her any warning of your intention. She will love you withoutknowing it, and some day she will be very much astonished at havingmade 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 theCountess. She is the cause of your anxieties, it is true, but I am thecause 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, andyour embarrassment appears great to me. Really, why risk a declarationof love to a woman who takes a wicked pleasure in avoiding it on everyoccasion? Now, she appears affected, and then again, she is the mostunmindful woman in the world in spite of all you do to please her. Shelistens willingly and replies gaily to the gallant speeches and boldconversation of a certain Chevalier, a professional coxcomb, but toyou she speaks seriously and with a preoccupied air. If you take on atender and affectionate tone, she replies flippantly, or perhapschanges the subject. All this intimidates you, troubles you, anddrives you to despair. Poor Marquis!--and I answer you, that all thisis love, true and beautiful. The absence of mind which she affectswith you, the nonchalance she puts on for a mask, ought to make youfeel at heart that she is far from being indifferent. But your lack ofboldness, the consequences which she feels must follow such a passionas yours, the interest which she already takes in your condition, allthis intimidates the countess herself, and it is you who raiseobstacles in her path. A little more boldness on your part would putyou both at your ease. Do you remember what M. De la Rochefoucauldtold you lately: "A reasonable man in love may act like a madman, buthe should not and can not act like an idiot. "

Besides, when you compare your respect and esteem with the free andalmost indecent manner of the Chevalier; when you draw from it theconclusion that she should prefer you to him, you do not know howincorrectly you argue. The Chevalier is nothing but a gallant, andwhat he says is not worth considering, or at least appears so. Frivolity alone, the habit of romancing to all the pretty women hefinds in his way, makes him talk. Love counts for nothing, or at leastfor very little, in all his liaisons. Like the butterfly, he hoversonly a moment over each flower. An amusing episode is his only object. So much frivolity is not capable of alarming a woman. She is delightedat the trifling danger she incurs in listening to such a man. 

The Countess knows very well how to appreciate the discourse of theChevalier; and to say everything in a word, she knows him to be a manwhose heart is worn out. Women, who, to hear them talk, go in more formetaphysics, know admirably how to tell the difference between a loverof his class and a man like you. But you will always be moreformidable and more to be dreaded by your manner of making yourselffelt. 

You boast to me of your respectful esteem, but I reply that it isnothing of the kind, and the Countess knows it well. Nothing ends withso little respect as a passion like yours. Quite different from theChevalier, you require recognition, preference, acknowledgment, evensacrifices. The Countess sees all these pretensions at a glance, or atleast, if in the cloud which still envelops them, she does notdistinguish them clearly, nature gives her a presentiment of what thecost will be if she allows you the least opportunity to instruct herin a passion which she doubtless already shares. Women rarely inquireinto the reasons which impel them to give themselves up or to resist;they do not even amuse themselves by trying to understand or explainthem, but they have feelings, and sentiment with them is correct, ittakes the place of intelligence and reflection. It is a sort ofinstinct which warns them in case of danger, and which leads themaright perhaps as surely as does the most enlightened reason. Yourbeautiful Adelaide wishes to enjoy an incognito as long as she can. This plan is very congenial to her real interests, and yet I am fullypersuaded that it is not the work of reflection. She sees it only fromthe point of view of a passion, outwardly constrained, making strongerimpressions and still greater progress inwardly. Let it have anopportunity to take deep root, and give to this fire she tries tohide, time to consume the heart in which you wish to confine it. 

You must also admit, Marquis, that you deceive yourself in two waysin your calculation. You thought you respected the Countess more thanthe Chevalier does, on the contrary you see that the gallant speechesof the Chevalier are without effect, while you begrudge them to theheart of your beauty. On the other hand, you figure that herpreoccupied air, indifferent and inattentive manner are proofs orforewarnings of your unhappiness. Undeceive yourself. There is no morecertain proof of a passion than the efforts made to hide it. In aword, when the Countess treats you kindly, whatever proofs you maygive her of your affection, when she sees you without alarm on thepoint 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 concerningmyself. Yes, Marquis, I constantly follow the method which Iprescribed at the commencement of our correspondence. There are fewmatters in my letters that I have not used as subjects of conversationin my social reunions. I rarely suggest ideas of any importance toyou, without having taken the opinions of my friends on their verity. Sometimes it is Monsieur de la Bruyère, sometimes Monsieur deSaint-Evremond whom I consult; another time it will be Monsieur l'Abbéde Châteauneuf. You must admire my good faith, Marquis, for I mightclaim the credit of the good I write you, but I frankly avow that youowe it only to the people whom I receive at my house. 

Apropos of men of distinguished merit, M. De la Rochefoucauld hasjust 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 heloves 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 arein, Marquis, and on the embarrassment in which you continue. Afterall, why do you deem it necessary to make a formal declaration oflove? Can it be because you have read about such things in our oldromances, in which the proceedings in courtship were as solemn asthose of the tribunals? That would be too technical. Believe me, letit alone; as I told you in my last letter, the fire lighted, willacquire greater force every day, and you will see, that without havingsaid you love, you will be farther advanced than if you werefrightened by avowals which our fathers insisted should worry thewomen. Avowals absolutely useless in themselves, and which alwaysincumber a passion with several nebulous days. They retard itsprogress. Bear this well in mind, Marquis: A woman is much betterpersuaded that she is loved by what she guesses than by what she istold. 

Act as if you had made the declaration which is costing you so muchanxiety; or imitate the Chevalier; take things easy. The way theCountess conducts herself with him in your presence seems to be a lawin 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 isdisquieting to a woman who knows the consequences of a passion such asyours. Remember that as long as you let it appear that you are makingpreparations for an attack, you will find her on the defensive. Haveyou ever heard of a skillful general, who intends to surprise acitadel, announce his design to the enemy upon whom the storm is todescend? In love as in war, does any one ever ask the victor whetherhe owes his success to force or skill? He has conquered, he receivesthe crown, his desires are gratified, he is happy. Follow his exampleand you will meet the same fate. Hide your progress; do not disclosethe extent of your designs until it is no longer possible to opposeyour success, until the combat is over, and the victory gained beforeyou have declared war. In a word, imitate those warlike people whosedesigns are not known except by the ravaged country through which theyhave passed. 

XIX

Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy

At last, Marquis, you are listened to dispassionately when you protestyour love, and swear by everything lovers hold sacred that you willalways love. Will you believe my predictions another time? However, you would be better treated if you were more reasonable, so you aretold, and limit your sentiments to simple friendship. The name oflover assumed by you is revolting to the Countess. You should neverquarrel over quality when it is the same under any name, and followthe 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 sincerityand constancy. You are disbelieved because all men are false andperjured, and because they are inconstant, love is withheld. Howfortunate you are! How little the Countess knows her own heart, if sheexpects to persuade you of her indifference in that fashion! Do youwish me to place a true value on the talk she is giving you? She isvery much affected by the passion you exhibit for her, but thewarnings and sorrows of her friends have convinced her that theprotestations of men are generally false. I do not conceive anyinjustice in this, for I, who do not flatter men willingly, ampersuaded that they are usually sincere on such occasions. They becomeamorous of a woman, that is they experience the desire of possession. The enchanting image of that possession bewitches them; they calculatethat the delights connected with it will never end; they do notimagine that the fire which consumes them can ever weaken or die out;such a thing seems impossible to them. Hence they swear with the bestfaith in the world to love us always; and to cast a doubt upon theirsincerity would be inflicting a mortal injury. 

But the poor fellows make more promises than they can keep. They donot perceive that their heart has not enough energy always to hold thesame object. They cease to love without knowing why. They are goodenough to be scrupulous over their growing coldness. Long after lovehas fled they continue to insist that they still love. They exertthemselves to no purpose, and after having tormented themselves aslong as they can bear it, they surrender to dissatisfaction, andbecome inconstant with as much good faith as they possessed when theyprotested that they would be forever constant. Nothing is simpler andeasier to explain. The fermentation of a budding love, excited intheir heart the charm that seduced them; by and by, the enchantment isdispelled, and nonchalance follows. With what can they be charged?They counted upon keeping their vows. Dear me, how many women are toohappy with what is lacking, since men give them a free rein to theirlightness!

However this may be, the Countess has charged up to you theinconstancy of your equals; she apprehends that you are no better thanall other lovers. Ready to yield to you, however little you may beable to reassure her, she is trying to find reasons for believing yousincere. The love you protest for her does not offend her. What am Isaying? It enchants her. She is so much flattered by it, that her solefear is that it may not be true. Dissipate her alarms, show her thatthe happiness you offer her and of which she knows the price, is notan imaginary happiness. Go farther; persuade her that she will enjoyit forever, and her resistance will disappear, her doubts will vanish, and she will seize upon everything that will destroy her suspicionsand uncertainty. She would have already believed you; already shewould have resolved to yield to the pleasure of being loved, if shehad believed herself really loved, and that it would last forever. 

How maladroit women are if they imagine that by their fears and theirdoubts of the sincerity and constancy of men, they can make any onebelieve they are fleeing from love, or despise it! As soon as theyfear they will be deceived in the enjoyment of its pleasures; whenthey fear they will not long enjoy it, they already know the charms ofit, and the only source of anxiety then is, that they will be deprivedof its enjoyment too soon. Forever haunted by this fear, and attackedby the powerful inclination toward pleasure, they hesitate, theytremble with the apprehension that they will not be permitted to enjoyit but just long enough to make the privation of it more painful. Hence, Marquis, you may very easily conjecture a woman who talks toyou as does the Countess, using this language:

"I can imagine all the delights of love. The idea I have formed of itis quite seductive. Do you think that deep in my heart I desire toenjoy its charms less than you? But the more its image is ravishing tomy imagination, the more I fear it is not real, and I refuse to yieldto it lest my happiness be too soon destroyed. Ah, if I could onlyhope that my happiness might endure, how feeble would be myresistance? But will you not abuse my credulity? Will you not some daypunish me for having had too much confidence in you? At least is thatday very far off? Ah, if I could hope to gather perpetually thefruits of the sacrifice I am making of my repose for your sake, Iconfess 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 moreredoubtable, as he is the sort of a man I have been advising you tobe. I know the Chevalier; nobody is more competent than he to carry aseduction to a successful conclusion. I am willing to wager anythingthat his heart has never been touched. He makes advances to theCountess in cold blood. You are lost. A lover as passionate as youhave appeared to be, makes a thousand blunders. The most favorabledesigns would perish under your management. He permits everybody totake the advantage of him on every occasion. Indeed, such is hismisfortune that his precipitation and his timidity injure hisprospects by turns. 

A man who makes love for the pleasure he finds in it, profits by thesmallest advantage; he knows the feeble places and makes himselfmaster of them. Everything leads his way, everything is combined forhis purpose. Even his imprudences are often the result of wisereflection; they help him along the road to success; they finallyacquire so superior a position that, from their beginning, so tospeak, dates the hour of his triumph. 

You must be careful, Marquis, not to go to extremes; you must not showthe Countess enough love to lead her to understand the excess of yourpassion. Give her something to be anxious about; compel her to takeheed lest she lose you, by giving her opportunities to think that shemay. There is no woman on earth who will treat you more cavalierlythan one who is absolutely certain that your love will not fail her. Like a merchant for whose goods you have manifested too great ananxiety to acquire, she will overcharge you with as little regard toconsequences. Moderate, therefore, your imprudent vivacity; manifestless passion and you will excite more in her heart. We do notappreciate the worth of a prize more than when we are on the point oflosing it. Some regulation in matters of love are indispensable forthe happiness of both parties. I think I am even justified in advisingyou on certain occasions to be a trifle unprincipled. On all otheroccasions, though, it is better to be a dupe than a knave; but inaffairs of gallantry, it is only the fools who are the dupes, andknaves 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, letyour heart rest in peace. I suspect that the cunning Countess ismaking 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. Youare young, you are making your debut in the world, and you areregarded as a man who has never yet had any love affairs. TheChevalier 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, youare like a drowned man. I shall take good care not to show your letterto any one, it would dishonor you. You do not know how to undertakethe manoeuvres I have advised you to make, you say? Your candor, yourhigh sentiments made your fortune formerly! Well, love was thentreated like an affair of honor, but nowadays, the corruption of theage has changed all that; love is now nothing more than a play of thehumor and of vanity. 

Your inexperience still leaves your virtues in an inflexible conditionthat will inevitably cause your ruin, if you have not enoughintelligence 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 acomedy, and men have had excellent reasons for keeping up the farce. They have discovered the fact that nobody can gain anything by tellingthe actual truth about women. There is a general agreement tosubstitute for this sincerity a collection of contrary phrases. Andthis custom has proved contagious in cases of gallantry. 

In spite of your high principles, you will agree with me, that unlessthat custom, called "politeness, " is not pushed so far as irony ortreason, it is a sociable virtue to follow, and of all the relationsamong men, the true meaning of gallantry has more need of beingconcealed than that of any other social affair. How many occasions doyou not find where a lover gains more by dissimulating the excess ofhis passion, than another who pretends to have more than he reallyhas?

I think I understand the Countess; she is more skillful than you. I amcertain she dissimulates her affection for you with greater care thanyou take to multiply proofs of yours for her. I repeat; the less youexpose yourself, the better you will be treated. Let her worry in herturn; inspire her with the fear that she will lose you, and see hercome around. It is the surest way of finding out the true position youoccupy 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. Theapplication you made of my counsel has, then, been successful? Icongratulate you. What I do not approve, however, is yourdissatisfaction with her for refusing to make the confession youdesired. The words: "I love you" seem to be something precious in yourestimation. For fifteen days you have been trying to penetrate thesentiments of the Countess, and you have succeeded; you know heraffection for you. What more can you possibly want? What further rightover her heart would a confession give you? Truly, I consider you astrange character. You ought to know that nothing is more calculatedto cause a reasonable woman to revolt, than the obstinacy with whichordinary men insist upon a declaration of their love. I fail tounderstand you. Ought not her refusal to be a thousand times moreprecious to a delicate minded lover than a positive declaration? Willyou ever know your real interests? Instead of persecuting a woman onsuch a point, expend your energies in concealing from her the extentof her affection. Act so that she will love you before you call herattention to the fact, before compelling her to resort to thenecessity of proclaiming it. Is it possible to experience a situationmore delicious than that of seeing a heart interested in you withoutsuspicion, growing toward you by degrees, finally becomingaffectionate? What a pleasure to enjoy secretly all her movements, todirect her sentiments, augment them, hasten them, and glory in thevictory even before she has suspected that you have essayed herdefeat! That is what I call pleasure. 

Believe me, Marquis, your conduct toward the Countess must be as ifthe open avowal of her love for you had escaped her. Of a truth, shehas not said in words: "I love you, " but it is because she reallyloves you that she has refrained from saying it. Otherwise she hasdone everything to convince you of it. 

Women are under no ordinary embarrassment. They desire for the veryleast, as much to confess their affection as you are anxious toascertain it, but what do you expect, Marquis? Women ingenious atraising obstacles, have attached a certain shame to any avowal oftheir passion, and whatever idea you men may have formed of our way ofthinking, such an avowal always humiliates us, for however small maybe our experience, we comprehend all the consequences. The words "Ilove you" are not criminal, that is true, but their sequel frightensus, hence we find means to dissimulate, and close our eyes to theliabilities they carry with them. 

Besides this, be on your guard; your persistence in requiring an openavowal from the Countess, is less the work of love than a perseveringvanity. I defy you to find a mistake in the true motives behind yourinsistence. Nature has given woman a wonderful instinct; it enablesher to discern without mistake whatever grows out of a passion in onewho is a stranger to her. Always indulgent toward the effects producedby a love we have inspired, we will pardon you many imprudences, manytransports; how can I enumerate them all? All the follies of which youlovers are capable, we pardon, but you will always find us intractablewhen our self-esteem meets your own. Who would believe it? You inspireus to revolt at things that have nothing to do with your happiness. Your vanity sticks at trifles, and prevents you from enjoying actualadvantages. Will you believe me when I say it? You will drop your idlefancies, to delight in the certainty that you are beloved by anadorable woman; to taste the pleasure of hiding the extent of her lovefrom herself, to rejoice in its security. Suppose by force ofimportunities you should extract an "I love you, " what would you gainby it? Would your uncertainty reach an end? Would you know whether youowe the avowal to love or complaisance? I think I know women, I oughtto. They can deceive you by a studied confession which the lips onlypronounce, but you will never be the involuntary witness of a passionyou force from them. The true, flattering avowals we make, are notthose 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? Youtake things too much to heart. Some imprudences, you say, have drawnupon you the anger of the Countess, and your anxiety is extreme. Youkissed her hand with an ecstasy that attracted the attention ofeverybody 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 salvationbecause of an outward manifestation of anger, and you do not evensuspect that inwardly you are justified? You impose upon me the burdenof convincing you of the fact, and in doing so I am forced to revealsome strange mysteries concerning women. But, I do not intend, inwriting 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 whichcontinually agitate her mind: the desire to please, and the fear ofdishonor. You can judge of our embarrassment. On the one hand, we areconsumed with the desire to have an audience to notice the effect ofour charms. Ever engaged in schemes to bring us into notoriety;ravished whenever we are fortunate enough to humiliate other women, wewould make the whole world witness of the preferences we encounter, and the homage bestowed upon us. Do you know the measure of oursatisfaction in such cases? The despair of our rivals, theindiscretions that betray the sentiments we inspire, this enchants usproportionately to the misery they suffer. Similar imprudencespersuade us much more that we are loved, than that our charms areincapable of giving us a reputation. 

But what bitterness poisons such sweet pleasures! Beside so manyadvantages marches the malignity of rival competitors, and sometimesyour disdain. A fatality which is mournful. The world makes nodistinction between women who permit you to love them, and those whomyou compensate for so doing. Uninfluenced, and sober-minded, areasonable woman always prefers a good reputation to celebrity. Puther beside her rivals who contest with her the prize for beauty, andthough she may lose that reputation of which she appears so jealous, though she compromise herself a thousand times, nothing is equal inher opinion to see herself preferred to others. By and by, she willrecompense you by preferences; she will at first fancy that she grantsthem out of gratitude, but they will be proofs of her attachment. Inher fear of appearing ungrateful, she becomes tender. 

Can you not draw from this that it is not your indiscretions which vexus? If they wound us, we must pay tribute to appearances, and youwould be the first to censure an excessive indulgence. 

See that you do not misunderstand us. Not to vex us on such occasionswould be really to offend. We recommend you to practice discretion andprudence, that is the rôle we enact, is it not? Is it necessary for meto tell you the part you are to play? I am often reminded thataccepting the letter of the law, is to fail to understand it. You maybe sure that you will be in accord with our intentions as soon as youare able to interpret them properly. 

XXIV

An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable

The Countess no longer retreats? You think she has no other object inview than to put your love to the proof? Whatever preference you havemanifested for her; however little precaution you have taken totestify to your passion, she finds nothing in you but cause forscolding. The least excuse, however, and the reproaches die upon herlips, and her anger is so delightful that you do everything to deserveit. Permit me to share in your joy with all my heart. But althoughthis behavior flatters you, if you consider that such acts are notintended to be of long duration, how badly reasonable women, who valuetheir reputation, misunderstand their true interests by thusmultiplying through an affected incredulity, occasions for slanderingthem. Do they not understand and feel that it is not always the momentwhen they are tender which gives a blow to their reputation? The doubtthey cast upon the sincerity of the affection they have inspired, doesthem more harm in the eyes of the world than even their defeat. Aslong as they continue incredulous the slightest imprudence compromisesthem. They dispose of their reputation at retail. 

Whenever a lover finds a woman incredulous of the truth of hissentiments, he goes full lengths, every time he has an opportunity, tofurnish proofs of his sincerity. The most indiscreet eagerness, themost marked preferences, the most assiduous attentions, seem to himthe best means of succeeding. Can he make use of them without callingthe attention of the whole world to the fact; without offending everyother woman and giving them occasions to be revenged by their sharpestarrows?

As soon as the preliminaries are settled, that is to say, as soon aswe commence to believe ourselves sincerely loved, nothing appears onthe surface, nothing happens; and if outsiders perceive our liaison, if they put a malicious construction upon it, it will only be by therecollection of what passed during a time when love was not inquestion. 

I would, for the good of everybody concerned, that as soon as a womanceases to find any pleasure in the society of a man who wishes toplease 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 manloves her, she could consent to it in good faith, reserving toherself, however, the right to be further entreated, to such a pointas she may deem apropos, before making an avowal that she feels astenderly disposed toward her lover, as he is toward her. For, a womancan not pretend to doubt without putting her lover to the necessity ofdissipating her doubts, and he can not do that successfully withouttaking the whole world into his confidence by a too marked homage. 

I know very well that these ideas would not have been probable intimes when the ignorance of men rendered so many women intractable, but, in these times when the audacity of our assailants leaves us sofew resources, in these times, I say, when, since the invention ofpowder, there are few impregnable places, why undertake a prolongedformal siege, when it is certain that after much labor and manydisasters it will be necessary to capitulate?

Bring your amiable Countess to reason; show her the inconveniences ofa prolonged disregard of your sentiments. You will convince her ofyour passion, you will compel her to believe you through regard forher reputation, and still better, perhaps, you will furnish her withan additional reason for giving you a confidence she doubtless nowfinds it difficult to withhold from you. 

XXV

Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome

My last letter has apparently scandalized you, Marquis. You insistthat it is not impossible to find virtuous women in our age of theworld. Well, have I ever said anything to the contrary? Comparingwomen to besieged castles, have I ever advanced the idea that therewere 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 Iam of your opinion. I will explain, however, so that there will be nomore chicanery about the question. 

Here is my profession of faith in this matter: I firmly believe thatthere are good women who have never been attacked, or who have beenwrongly attacked. 

I further firmly believe that there are good women who have beenattacked 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 ratherlively conversation on this particular point, while I was still veryyoung, with a prude, whom an adventure of some brilliancy unmasked. Iwas inexperienced then, and I was in the habit of judging others withthat severity which every one is disposed to manifest until somepersonal fault has made us more indulgent toward our neighbors. I hadconsidered it proper to blame the conduct of this woman without mercy. She heard of it. I sometimes saw her at an aunt's, and madepreparations to attack her morals. Before I had an opportunity shetook the matter into her own hands, by taking me aside one day, andcompelled me to submit to the following harangue, which I confess madea deep impression in my memory:

"It is not for the purpose of reproaching you for the talk you havebeen making on my account, that I wish to converse with you in theabsence 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 haveactually treated me with a disdain, which tells me how proud you areof the fact that you have never been taken advantage of. You believein your own virtue and that it will never abandon you. This is a pureillusion of your amour propre, my dear child, and I feel impelled toenlighten your inexperience, and to make you understand, that far frombeing sure of that virtue which renders you so severe, you are noteven sure that you have any at all. This prologue astonishes you, eh?Well, listen with attention, and you will soon be convinced of thetruth whereof I speak. 

"Up to the present time, nobody has ever spoken to you of love. Yourmirror alone has told you that you are beautiful. Your heart, I cansee by the appearance of indifference that envelops you like amantle, 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 yourguarantee. But when your heart has spoken, when your enchanting eyesshall have received life and expression from sentiment, when theyshall speak the language of love, when an internal unrest shallagitate your breast, when, in fine, desire, half stifled by thescruples of a good education, shall have made you blush more than oncein secret, then your sensibility, through the combats by which youwill attempt to vanquish it, will diminish your severity towardothers, and their faults will appear more excusable. 

"The knowledge of your weakness will no longer permit you to regardyour virtue as infallible. Your astonishment will carry you stillfarther. The little help it will be to you against too impetuousinclinations, will make you doubt whether you ever had any virtue. Canyou say a man is brave before he has ever fought? It is the same withus. The attacks made upon us are alone the parents of our virtue, asdanger gives birth to valor. As long as one has not been in thepresence of the enemy, it is impossible to say whether he is to befeared, and what degree of resistance it will be necessary to bearagainst him. 

"Hence to justify a woman in flattering herself that she isessentially virtuous and good by force of her own strength, she mustbe in a position where no danger, however great it may be, no motiveno matter how pressing, no pretext whatever, shall be powerful enoughto triumph over her. She must meet with the most favorableopportunities, the most tender love, the certainty of secrecy, theesteem and the most perfect confidence in him who attacks her. In aword, all these circumstances combined should not be able to make animpression upon her courage, so that to know whether a woman bevirtuous in the true meaning of the word, one must imagine her ashaving escaped unscathed all these united dangers, for it would not bevirtue but only resistance where there should be love without thedisposition, or disposition without the occasion. Her virtue wouldalways be uncertain, as long as she had never been attacked by all theweapons which might vanquish her. One might always say of her: if shehad been possessed of a different constitution, she might not haveresisted love, or, if a favorable occasion had presented itself, hervirtue would have played the fool. "

"According to this, " said I, "it would be impossible to find a singlevirtuous 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 isnot necessary to have so many to overcome us, one alone is sufficientto obtain the victory. "

But I stuck to my proposition: "You pretend then that our virtue doesnot 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 yougive yourself a lively or sedate disposition? Are you free to defendyourself against a violent passion? Does it depend upon you to arrangeall the circumstances of your life, so that you will never findyourself alone with a lover who adores you, who knows his advantagesand how to profit by them? Does it depend upon you to prevent hispleadings, I assume them to be innocent at first, from making uponyour senses the impression they must necessarily make? Certainly not;to insist upon such an anomaly would be to deny that the magnet ismaster of the needle. And you pretend that your virtue is your ownwork, that you can personally claim the glory of an advantage that isliable to be taken from you at any moment? Virtue in women, like allthe other blessings we enjoy, is a gift from Heaven; it is a favorwhich Heaven may refuse to grant us. Reflect then how unreasonable youare in glorifying in your virtue: consider your injustice when you socruelly abuse those who have had the misfortune to be born with anungovernable inclination toward love, whom a sudden violent passionhas surprised, or who have found themselves in the midst ofcircumstances out of which you would not have emerged with any greaterglory. 

"Shall I give you another proof of the justice of my ideas? I willtake it from your own conduct. Are you not dominated by that deeppersuasion that every woman who wishes to preserve her virtue, neednever allow herself to be caught, that she must watch over thesmallest trifles, because they lead to things of greater importance?It is much easier for you to take from men the desire to make anattack upon your virtue by assuming a severe exterior, than to defendagainst their attacks. The proof of this is in the fact that we giveyoung girls in their education as little liberty as is possible inorder to restrain them. We do more: a prudent mother does not relyupon 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 tosuccumb to temptation. What is the excuse for so many precautions?Because the mother fears the frailty of her pupil, if she is exposedfor an instant to danger. 

"In spite of all these obstacles with which she is curbed, how oftendoes it not happen that love overcomes them all? A girl well trained, or better, well guarded, laughs at her virtue, because she imagines itis all her own, whereas, it is generally a slave rigorously chaineddown, who thinks everybody is satisfied with him as long as he doesnot run away. Let us inquire further into this: In what class do youfind abandoned females? In that where they have not sufficient wealthor happiness constantly to provide themselves with the obstacles whichhave saved you; in that, where men have attacked their virtue withmore audacity, more facility, more frequency, and more impunity, andconsequently with more advantages of every sort; in that, where theimpressions of education, of example, of pride, the desire of asatisfactory establishment could not sustain them. Two doors below, there is a woman whom you hate and despise. And in spite of theoutside aid which sustains that virtue, of which you are so proud, intwo days you might be more despicable than she, because you will havehad greater helps to guarantee you against misfortune. I am notseeking to deprive you of the merit of your virtue, nor am Iendeavoring to prevent you from attaching too much importance to it;by convincing you of its fragility, I wish to obtain from you only atrifle of indulgence for those whom a too impetuous inclination, orthe misfortunes of circumstances have precipitated into a position sohumiliating in their own eyes; my sole object is to make youunderstand that you ought to glorify yourself less in the possessionof an advantage which you do not owe to yourself, and of which you maybe deprived to-morrow. "

She was going to continue, but some one interrupted us. Soonafterward, I learned by my own experience that I should not have hadso good an opinion of many virtues which had been formerly imposedupon me, beginning with my own. 

XXVI

Love Demands Freedom of Action

I have been of the same opinion as you, Marquis, although the ideas Icommunicated to you yesterday appeared to be true speculatively, thatit would be dangerous if all women were to be guided by them. It isnot by a knowledge of their frailty, that women will remain virtuous, but by the conviction that they are free and mistresses of themselveswhen it comes to yield or to resist. Is it by persuading a soldierthat he will be vanquished that he is goaded into fighting withcourage? Did you not notice that the woman who did the talking as Ihave related in my last letter, had a personal interest in maintainingher system? It is true, that when we examine her reasoning accordingto the rules of philosophy, it does seem to be a trifle specious, butit is to be feared that in permitting ourselves to reason in thatfashion on what virtue is, we may succeed in converting into aproblem, the rules we should receive and observe as a law, which it isa crime to construe. Moreover, to persuade women that it is not tothemselves they are indebted for the virtue they possess, might it motdeprive them of the most powerful motive to induce them to preserveit? I mean by that, the persuasion that it is their own work theydefend. The consequences of such morality would be discouraging, andtend to diminish, in the eyes of a guilty woman, the importance of hererrors. But let us turn to matters of more interest to you. 

At last, after so many uncertainties, after so many revolutions inyour imagination, you are sure you are loved? You have finallysucceeded in exciting the Countess to divulge her secret during amoment of tenderness. The words you burned to hear have beenpronounced. More, she has allowed to escape her, a thousandinvoluntary proofs of the passion you have inspired. Far fromdiminishing your love, the certainty that you are beloved in returnhas increased it; in a word, you are the happiest of men. If you knewwith how much pleasure I share your happiness you would be stillhappier. The first sacrifice she desired to make was to refuse toreceive the Chevalier: you were opposed to her making it, and you werequite right. It would have compromised the Countess for nothing, whichcalls to my mind the fact, that women generally lose more byimprudence than by actual faults. The confidence you so noblymanifested in her, ought to have greatly impressed her. 

Everything is now as it should be. However, shall I tell yousomething? The way this matter has turned out alarms me. We agreed, ifyou remember, that we were to treat the subject of love withoutgloves. You were not to have at the most but a light and fleetingtaste of it, and not a regulated passion. Now I perceive that thingsbecome more serious every day. You are beginning to treat love with adignity which worries me. The knowledge of true merits, solidqualities, and good character is creeping into the motives of yourliaison, and combining with the personal charms which render you soblindly amorous. I do not like to have so much esteem mixed with anaffair of pure gallantry. It leaves no freedom of action, it is workinstead of amusement. I was afraid in the beginning that yourrelations would assume a grave and measured turn. But perhaps you willonly too soon have new pretensions, and the Countess by new disputeswill doubtless re-animate your liaison. Too constant a peace isproductive of a deadly ennui. Uniformity kills love, for as soon asthe spirit of method mingles in an affair of the heart, the passiondisappears, languor supervenes, weariness begins to wear, and disgustends the chapter. 

XXVII

The Heart Needs Constant Employment

Madame de Sévigné does not agree with me upon the causes of love as Igive them. She pretends that many women know it only from its refinedside, and that the senses never count for anything in their heartaffairs. According to her, although what she calls my "system" shouldbe well founded, it would always be unbecoming in the mouth of awoman, and might become a precedent in morals. 

These are assuredly very serious exceptions, Marquis, but are theywell grounded? I do not think so. I see with pain that Madame deSévigné has not read my letters in the spirit I wrote them. What, Ithe founder of systems? Truly, she does me too much honor, I havenever been serious enough to devise any system. Besides, according tomy notion, a system is nothing but a philosophic dream, and thereforedoes she consider all I have told you as a play of the imagination? Inthat case, we are very far out of our reckoning. I do not imagine, Idepict real objects. I would have one truth acknowledged, and toaccomplish that, my purpose is not to surprise the mind; I consult thesentiments. Perhaps she has been struck by the singularity of some ofmy propositions, which appeared to me so evident that I did not thinkit worth while to maintain them; but is it necessary to make use of amariner's compass to develop the greater or less amount of truth in amaxim of gallantry?

Moreover, I have such a horror of formal discussions, that I wouldprefer to agree to anything rather than engage in them. Madame deSévigné, you say, is acquainted with a number of femalemetaphysicians--there! there! I will grant her these exceptions, provided she leaves me the general thesis. I will even admit, if youso desire, that there are certain souls usually styled "privileged, "for I have never heard anybody deny the virtues of temperament. So, Ihave nothing to say about women of that species. I do not criticisethem, nor have I any reproaches to make them; neither do I believe itmy duty to praise them, it is sufficient to congratulate them. However, if you investigate them you will discover the truth of what Ihave been saying since the commencement of our correspondence: theheart must be occupied with some object. If nature does not inclinethem in that direction, no one can lead them in the direction ofgallantry, their affection merely changes its object. Such a oneto-day appears to be insensible to the emotion of love, only becauseshe 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 deSévigné. Her extreme tenderness for Madame Grignan (her daughter), however, occupies her entire time at present. According to her, I amvery much at fault concerning women? In all charity I should havedisguised the defects which I have discovered in my sex, or, if youprefer to have it that way, which my sex have discovered in me. 

But, do you really believe, Marquis, that if everything I have said onthis subject be made public, the women would be offended? Know thembetter, Marquis; all of them would find there what is their due. Indeed, to tell them that it is purely a mechanical instinct whichinclines them to flirt, would not that put them at their ease? Does itnot seem to be restoring to favor that fatality, those expressions ofsympathy, which they are so delighted to give as excuses for theirmistakes, and in which I have so little faith? Granting that love isthe result of reflection, do you not see what a blow you are givingtheir vanity? You place upon their shoulders the responsibility fartheir good or bad choice. 

One more thrust, Marquis: I am not mistaken when I say that all womenwould be satisfied with my letters. The female metaphysicians, thatis, those women whom Heaven has favored with a fortunate constitution, would take pleasure in recognizing in them their superiority overother women; they would not fail to congratulate themselves upon thedelicacy of their own sentiments, and to consider them as works oftheir own creation. Those whom nature built of less refined material, would without doubt owe me some gratitude for revealing a secret whichwas weighing upon them. They have made it a duty to disguise theirinclinations, and they are as anxious not to fail in this duty as theyare careful not to lose anything on the pleasure side of the question. Their interest, therefore, is, to have their secret guessed withoutbeing compromised. Whoever shall develop their hearts, will not failto render them an essential service. I am even fully convinced thatthose women, who at heart, profess sentiments more comformable tomine, would be the first to consider it an honor to dispute them. Hence, I would be paying my court to women in two fashions, whichwould be equally agreeable: In adopting the maxims which flatter theirinclinations, and in furnishing them with an occasion to appearrefined. 

After all, Marquis, do you think it would betray a deep knowledge ofwomen, to believe that they could be offended with the malicious talkI have been giving you about them? Somebody said a long time ago, thatwomen would rather have a little evil said of them than not be talkedabout at all You see therefore, that even supposing that I havewritten you in the intention with which I am charged, they would bevery far from being able to reproach me in the slightest degree. 

Finally, Madame de Sévigné pretends that my "system" might become aprecedent. Truly, Marquis, I do not understand how, with the justicefor which she is noted, she was able to surrender to such an idea. Instripping love, as I have, of everything liable to seduce you, inmaking it out to be the effect of temperament, caprice, and vanity;in a word, in undeceiving you concerning the metaphysics that lend itgrandeur and nobility, is it not evident that I have rendered it lessdangerous? Would it not be more dangerous, if, as pretends Madame deSévigné, it were to be transformed into a virtue? I would willinglycompare my sentiments with those of the celebrated legislator ofantiquity, who believed the best means of weakening the power of womenover his fellow citizens was to expose their nakedness. But I wish tomake one more effort in your favor. Since I am regarded as a womanwith a system, it will be better for me to submit to whatever such afine title exacts. Let us reason, therefore, for a moment upongallantry according to the method which appertains only to seriousmatters. 

Is love not a passion? Do not very strict minded people pretend thatthe passions and vices mean the same things? Is vice ever moreseductive than when it wears the cloak of virtue? Wherefore in orderto corrupt virtuous souls it is sufficient for it to appear in apotential form. This is the form in which the Platonicians deified it. In all ages, in order to justify the passions, it was necessary toapotheosize them. What am I saying? Am I so bold as to play theiconoclast with an accredited superstition? What temerity! Do I notdeserve to be persecuted by all women for attacking their favoritecult?

I am sorry for them; it was so lovely, when they felt the movements oflove, to be exempt from blushing, to be able even to congratulatethemselves, and lay the blame upon the operations of a god. But whathad poor humanity done to them? Why misunderstand it and seek for thecause of its weakness in the Heavens? Let us remain on earth, we shallfind it there, and it is its proper home. 

In truth, I have never in my letters openly declaimed against love; Ihave never advised you not to take the blame of it. I was too wellpersuaded of the uselessness of such advice; but I told you what loveis, and I therefore diminished the illusion it would not have failedto create in your mind; I weakened its power over you and experiencewill justify me. 

I am perfectly well aware that a very different use is made of it inthe education of females. And what sort of profit is there in themethods employed? The very first step is to deceive them. Theirteachers strive to inspire them with as much fear of love as of evilspirits. Men are depicted as monsters of infidelity and perfidy. Nowsuppose a gentleman appears who expresses delicate sentiments, whosebearing is modest and respectful? The young woman with whom heconverses will believe she has been imposed upon; and as soon as shediscovers how much exaggeration there has been, her advisers will loseall credit so far as she is concerned. Interrogate such a young woman, and if she is sincere, you will find that the sentiments the allegedmonster has excited in her heart are far from being the sentiments ofhorror. 

They are deceived in another manner also, and the misery of it is, itis almost impossible to avoid it. Infinite care is taken to keep fromthem the knowledge, to prevent them from having even an idea that theyare liable to be attacked by the senses, and that such attacks are themost dangerous of all for them. They are drilled in the idea that theyare immaculate spirits, and what happens then? Inasmuch as they havenever been forewarned of the species of attacks they must encounter, they are left without defense. They have never mistrusted that theirmost redoubtable enemy is the one that has never been mentioned: howthen can they be on their guard against him? It is not men they shouldbe taught to fear, but themselves? What could a lover do, if the womanhe attacks were not seduced by her own desires?

So, Marquis, when I say to women that the principal cause of theirweaknesses is physical, I am far from advising them to follow theirinclinations; on the contrary, it is for the purpose of putting themon their guard in that respect. It is saying to the Governor of thecitadel, that he will not be attacked at the spot which up to then hasbeen the best fortified; that the most redoubtable assault will not bemade by the besiegers, but that he will be betrayed by his own. 

In a word, in reducing to their just value, the sentiments to whichwomen attach such high and noble ideas; in enlightening them upon thereal object of a lover who pretends to great delicacy and refinement, do you not see that I am interesting their vanity to draw less gloryout of the fact of being loved, and their hearts to take less pleasurein loving? Depend upon it, that if it were possible to enlist theirvanity in opposition to their inclination to gallantry, their virtuewould most assuredly suffer very little. 

I have had lovers, but none of them deceived me by any illusions. Icould penetrate their motives astonishingly well. I was alwayspersuaded that if whatever was of value from the standpoint ofintellect and character, was considered as anything among the reasonsthat led them to love me, it was only because those qualitiesstimulated their vanity. They were amorous of me, because I had abeautiful figure, and they possessed the desire. So it came about thatthey never obtained more than the second place in my heart. I havealways conserved for friendship the deference, the constancy, and therespect even, which a sentiment so noble, so worthy deserves in anelevated soul. It has never been possible for me to overcome mydistrust for hearts in which love was the principal actor. Thisweakness degraded them in my eyes; I considered them incompetent toraise their mind up to sentiments of true esteem for a woman for whomthey have felt a desire. 

You see, therefore, Marquis, that the precedent I draw from myprinciples is far from being dangerous. All that enlightened minds canfind with which to reproach me, will be, perhaps, because I havetaken the trouble to demonstrate a truth which they do not considerproblematic. But does not your inexperience and your curiosity justifywhatever I have written so far, and whatever I may yet write you onthis subject?

XXVIII

Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance

You are not mistaken, Marquis, the taste and talent of the Countessfor the clavecin (piano) will tend to increase your love andhappiness. I have always said that women do not fully realize theadvantages they might draw from their talents; indeed, there is not amoment when they are not of supreme utility; most women alwayscalculating on the presence of a beloved object as the only thing tobe feared. In such case they have two enemies to combat; their loveand their lover. But when the lover departs, love remains; andalthough the progress it makes in solitude is not so rapid, it is noless dangerous. It is then that the execution of a sonata, thesketching of a flower, the reading of a good book, will distract theattention from a too seductive remembrance, and fix the mind onsomething useful. All occupations which employ the mind are so manythefts from love. 

Suppose his inclination brings a lover to our knees, what can heaccomplish with a woman who is only tender and pretty? With what canhe employ his time if he does not find in her society somethingagreeable, some variety? Love is an active sentiment, it is aconsuming fire always demanding additional fuel, and if it can findonly sensible objects upon which to feed, it will keep to that diet. Imean to say, that when the mind is not occupied the senses findsomething to do. 

There are too many gesticulations while talking, sometimes I think weshall be compelled to use sign language with a person we know to beunable to understand a more refined language. It is not in resistingadvances, nor in taking offense at too bold a caress that a woman isenabled to maintain her virtue. When she is attacked in that fashion, even while defending herself, her senses are excited and the veryagitation which impels her to resist, hastens her defeat. But it is bydistracting the attention of the man to other objects, that the womanis relieved of the necessity of resisting his advances, or takingoffense at his liberties to which she herself has opened the way, forthere is one thing certain, which is, that a man will never disappointa woman who is anxious for him. 

You will not find a single woman, unless you can suppose oneabsolutely ignorant, who is not able to gauge exactly the degree offamiliarity she ought to permit. Those who complain that their loversdo not come up to the mark do not affect me in the least. Inquire intothe reason, and you will perceive that their stupidities, theirimprudences are the cause. It was their desire to be found wanting. 

Defect in culture may expose us to the same inconveniences, for with awoman without mind, and without talents what else is there to do butundertake her conquest? When in her company, the only way to killtime is to annoy her. There is nothing to talk about but her beauty, and of the impression she has made upon the senses, and sensuallanguage is the only one that can be employed for that purpose. Sheherself is not convinced that you love her, and she does not respond, she does not recompense you but by the assistance of the senses, andexhibits an agitation equal to yours, or else, her decency gone, shehas nothing but bad humor with which to oppose you. This is the lastditch of a woman without mind, and what a culmination! On thecontrary, what are not the advantages of an intelligent, resourcefulwoman? A lively repartee, piquant raillery, a quarrel seasoned with atrifle of malice, a happy citation, a graceful recitation, are notthese so many distractions for her, and the time thus employed, is itnot so much gained for virtue?

The great misfortune with women is, without doubt, the inability tofind occupations worthy of their attention, and this is the reason whylove with them is a more violent passion than with men, but they havea 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 isoccupied 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 mustpermit me to use some technical term of art), but it will not be theactual object presented to her attention, and that is somethinggained. Wholly devoted to the care of becoming perfect in the speciesof glory to which she aspires, this same desire, of which love will bethe source, will turn against love, by dividing the attention of themind and the affections of the heart; in a word it will create adiversion. 

But perhaps you will tell me that there are women of spirit andtalents beyond the reach of attack. Whence you infer that men who donot dislike freedom will avoid them, but that fools and men ofintelligence cultivate them. That is true, but the fools take to thembecause they do not perceive the difficulty in their way, and men ofintelligence do not avoid them, because they aspire to surmount it. 

Now, ought not you, who are a military man, to appreciate everything Isay to you about talent? I will suppose a campaign upon which you haveentered; you have been given charge of conducting the siege of a city. Would you be satisfied if the governor, persuaded that the city is notimpregnable, should open to you the gates without having given you theleast occasion to distinguish yourself? I venture to say not; heshould resist, and the more he seeks to cover himself with glory, themore glory he gives you. Well, Marquis, in love as in war, thepleasure of obtaining a victory is measured according to the obstaclesin the way of it. Shall I say it? I am tempted to push the parallelfarther. See what it is to take a first step. The true glory of awoman consists less, perhaps, in yielding, than in putting in a gooddefense, so that she will merit the honors of war. 

I shall go still farther. Let a woman become feeble enough to be atthe point of yielding, what is left her to retain a satisfactorylover, if her intelligence and talents do not come to her aid? I amwell aware that they do not give themselves these advantages, but ifwe investigate the matter, we shall find that there are very few womenwho may not acquire a few accomplishments if they really set about it;the difference would only be the more, at least. But women aregenerally born too indolent to be able to make such an effort. Theyhave discovered that there is nothing so convenient as being pretty. This manner of pleasing does not require any labor; they would be gladnot to have any other. Blind that they are, they do not see thatbeauty and talents equally attract the attention of men, but, beautymerely exposes her who possesses it, whereas talents furnish her withthe means of defending it. 

In a word, to appreciate it at its full value, beauty stores upregrets and a mortal weariness for the day when it shall cease toexist. Would you know the reason? It is because it drowns out allother resources. As long as beauty lasts, a woman is regarded assomething, she is celebrated, a crowd sighs at her feet. She flattersherself that this will go on forever. What a desolate solitude whenage comes to ravish her of the only merit she possesses? I would like, therefore (my expression is not elevated, but it interprets mythought), I would like that in a woman, beauty could be a sign ofother advantages. 

Let us agree, Marquis, that in love, the mind is made more use of thanthe heart. A liaison of the heart is a drama in which the acts are theshortest and the between acts the longest; with what then, would youfill the interludes if not with accomplishments? Possession puts everywoman on the same level, and exposes all of them equally toinfidelity. The elegant and the beautiful, when they are nothing else, have not, in that respect, any advantage over her who is plain; themind, in that case making all the difference. That alone can bestowupon the same person the variety necessary to prevent satiety. Moreover, it is only accomplishments that can fill the vacuum of apassion that has been satisfied, and we can always have them in anysituation we may imagine, either to postpone defeat and render it moreflattering, or to assure us of our conquests. Lovers themselves profitby them. How many things they cherish although they set their facesagainst them? Wherefore, let the Countess, while cultivating herdecided talent for the clavecin, understand her interests and yours. 

I have read over my letter, my dear Marquis, and I tremble lest youfind it a trifle serious. You see what happens when one is in badcompany. I supped last night with M. De la Rochefoucauld, and I neversee him that he does not spoil me in this fashion, at least for threeor four days. 

XXIX

The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal

I think as you do, Marquis, the Countess punishes you too severely forhaving surprised an avowal of her love. Is it your fault if her secretescaped? She has gone too far to retreat. A woman can experience areturn to reason, but to go so far as to refuse to see you for threedays; give out that she has gone into the country for a month; returnyour tender letters without opening them, is, in my opinion, averitable caprice of virtue. After all, however, do not despairwhatever may happen. If she were really indifferent she would be lesssevere. 

Do not make any mistake about this: There are occasions when a womanis less out of humor with you than with herself. She feels withvexation that her weakness is ready to betray her at any moment. Shepunishes 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 progressof a lover more than a year of care and assiduity. A woman soon beginsto regret her unkindness; she deems herself unjust; she desires torepair her fault, and she becomes benevolent. 

What surprises me the most is the marked passage in your letter whichstates that since the Countess has appeared to love you, hercharacter has totally changed. I have no particular information onthat point. All I know is, that she made her debut in society as alady 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 waslively even to giddiness, heedless, bold, even coquettish, andappeared 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; atleast 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 notrecognize in this metamorphosis the effects of love. I am very muchmistaken if the storm raging around you to-day, does not end in themost complete victory, and one all the more assured because she hasdone everything in her power to prevent it. But if you steadily pursueyour object, carrying your pursuit even as far as importunity, followher wherever she goes and where you can see her; if you take it uponyourself not to allude to your passion, and treat her with all themannerism of an attentive follower, respectful, but impressed, whatwill happen? She will be unable to refuse you the courtesies due anyindifferent acquaintance. Women possess an inexhaustible fund ofkindness for those who love them. You know this well, you men, and itis what always reassures you when you are treated unkindly. You knowthat your presence, your attentions, the sorrow that affects you havetheir effect, and end by disarming our pride. 

You are persuaded that those whom our virtue keeps at a distancethrough pride, are precisely those whom it fears the most, andunfortunately, your guess is only too just, it keeps them off, indeed, because it is not sure of its ability to resist them. It does moresometimes, it goes to the length of braving an enemy whose attack itdares not anticipate. In a word, the courage of a reasonable woman isnearly always equal to a first effort, but rarely is that effortlasting. The very excess of its violence is the cause of itsweakening. The soul has only one degree of force, and exhausted by theconstraint that effort cost it, it abandons itself to lassitude. Byand by, the knowledge of its weakness throws it into discouragement. Awoman of that disposition bears the first shock of a redoubtable enemywith courage, but, the danger better understood, she fears a secondattack. A woman, persuaded that she has done everything possible todefend herself against an inclination which is urging her on, satisfied with the combats in which she has been engaged, finallyreaches the opinion that her resistance can not prevail against thepower of love. If she still resist, it is not by her own strength; shederives no help except from the idea of the intrepidity she at firstdisplayed to him who attacks, or from the timidity she inspired inhim in the beginning of her resistance. Thus it is, that howeverreasonable she may be, she nearly always starts out with a finedefense, 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 whetheryou have obtained it through your importunities or with her consent. 

Besides that, Marquis, the excess of precautions a woman takes againstyou, is strong evidence of how much you are feared. If you were anobject of indifference, would a woman take the trouble to avoid you? Ideclare to you that she would not honor you by being afraid of you. But I know how unreasonable lovers are. Always ingenious in tormentingthemselves, the habit of never having but one object in view is sopowerful, that they prefer being pestered with one that isdisagreeable than with none at all. 

However, I feel sorry for you. Smitten as you are, your situation cannot 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, thatyour mind was more at rest. I feel free to say, that if the Countesshad persevered in treating you with the same severity, I should havesuspected, not that she was insensible to your love, but that you hada fortunate rival. The resistance manifested by her would have beenbeyond her strength in a single combat. For you should be welladvised, Marquis, that a woman is never more intractable than when sheassumes a haughtiness toward all other men, for the sake of herfavorite lover. 

I see in everything you have told me, proofs that you are loved, andthat you are the only one. I will be able to give you constant news onthat 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 amiablewidow. You told me that she was at home, and, add to the neighborhood, the unmeasured longing I have to make her acquaintance, you will notbe surprised at the promise I have just made you. 

I have not the time to finish this letter, nor the opportunity tosend it. I must depart immediately, and my traveling companion isteasing me in a strange fashion, pretending that I am writing a loveletter. I am letting her think what she pleases, and carry the letterwith me to the country. Adieu. What! Madame de Grignan's illness willnot permit you to visit us in our solitude?

Du Château de---. 

I am writing you from the country house of the Countess, my dearMarquis, this is the third day I have been with her, which will enableyou to understand that I am not in bad favor with the mistress of thehouse. She is an adorable woman, I am delighted with her. I sometimesdoubt 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 ofdiscovering, before I return to the city, the reasons for the changein her character which you have remarked. I dare not write you morenow, I may be interrupted, and I do not wish any one to know that I amwriting 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 keepmy word with you, and had arranged to use strategy upon the Countessto worm her secret from her, when chance came to my aid. 

You are not ignorant of her confidence in Monsieur de la Sablière. Shewas with him just now in an arbor of the garden, and I was passingthrough a bushy path intending to join them, when the mention of yourname arrested my steps. I was not noticed, and heard all theconversation, which I hasten to communicate to you word for word. 

"I have not been able to conceal from your penetration, my inclinationfor M. De Sévigné, " said the Countess, "and you can not reconcile theserious nature of so decided a passion with the frivolity attributedto me in society. You will be still more astonished when I tell youthat my exterior character is not my true one, that the seriousnessyou notice in me now, is a return to my former disposition; I wasnever giddy except through design. Perhaps you may have imagined thatwomen can only conceal their faults, but they sometimes go muchfarther, sir, and I am an instance. They even disguise their virtues, and since the word has escaped me, I am tempted, at the risk ofwearying you, to explain by what strange gradation I reached thatpoint. 

"During my married life I lived retired from the world. You knew theCount and his taste for solitude. When I became a widow, there was thequestion of returning to society, and my embarrassment as to how I wasto present myself was not small. I interrogated my own heart; in vainI sought to hide it from my own knowledge, I had a strong taste forthe pleasures of society; but at the same time I was determined to addto it purity of morals. But how to reconcile all this? It seemed to mea difficult task to establish a system of conduct which, withoutcompromising me, would not at the same time deprive me of thepleasures of life. 

"This is the way I reasoned: Destined to live among men, formed toplease them, and to share in their happiness, we are obliged to sufferfrom their caprices, and above all fear their malignity. It seems thatthey have no other object in our education than that of fitting us forlove, indeed, it is the only passion permitted us, and by a strangeand cruel contrariety, they have left us only one glory to obtain, which is that of gaining a victory over the very inclination imposedupon us. I therefore endeavored to ascertain the best means ofreconciling in use and custom, two such glaring extremes, and I foundpredicaments on all sides. 

"We are, I said to myself, simple enough when we enter society, toimagine that the greatest happiness of a woman should be to love andbe loved. We then are under the impression that love is based onesteem, upheld by the knowledge of amiable qualities, purified bydelicacy of sentiment, divested of all the insipidities whichdisfigure it, in a word, fostered by confidence and the effusions ofthe heart. But unfortunately, a sentiment so flattering for a womanwithout experience, is everything less than that in practice. She isalways disabused when too late. 

"I was so good in the beginning as to be scandalized at twoimperfections I perceived in men, their inconstancy and theiruntruthfulness. 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 itpossible for it to be occupied with only one object? No, but does thetreachery of men deserve the same indulgence? Most men attack awoman's virtue in cold blood, in the design to use her for theiramusement, to sacrifice her to their vanity, to fill a void in an idlelife, 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 truelovers? They all look alike on the surface, and the man who pretendsto be amorous, is often more seductive than one who really is. 

"We are, moreover, dupes enough to make love a capital affair. Youmen, on the contrary, consider it merely a play; we rarely surrenderto it without an inclination for the person of the lover; you arecoarse enough to yield to it without taste. Constancy with us is aduty; you give way to the slightest distaste without scruple. You arescarcely decent in leaving a mistress, the possession of whom, sixmonths before, was your glory and happiness. She may consider herselfwell 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 herpeace of mind and reputation, should never love. ' However, everythingtells me that we have a heart, that this heart is made for love, andthat love is involuntary. Why, then, venture to destroy an inclinationthat is part of our being? Would it not be wiser to rectify it? Let ussee 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 alove which occupies the whole soul to the exclusion of every othersentiment, and which impels us to sacrifice everything to the objectloved. 

"What characters are susceptible of such a sentiment? They are themost solid, those who show little on the outside, those who unitereason with an elevated nobility of character in their fashion ofthinking. 

"Finally, who are the men the most reasonable for women of that kind?It is those who possess just sufficient brilliant qualities to fix avalue on their essential merit. It must be confessed, though, thatsuch men are not good companions for women who think. It is true, they are rare at present, and there has never been a period sofavorable as this to guarantee us against great passions, butmisfortune will have it that we meet one of them in the crowd. 

"The moralists pretend that every woman possesses a fund ofsensibility destined to be applied to some object or another. Asensible woman is not affected by the thousand trifling advantages soagreeable to men in ordinary women. When she meets an object worthy ofher attention, it is quite natural that she should estimate the valueof it; her affection is measured according to her lights, she can notgo half way. It is these characters that should not be imitated, andall 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 acharacter which can procure for us two advantages at one and the sametime: One to guard us from immoderate impressions; the other to wardoff men who cause them. Let us give them an outside which will atleast prevent them from displaying qualities they do not possess. Letus force them to please us by their frivolity, by their absurdities. However much they may practice affectation, their visible faults wouldfurnish us with weapons against them. What happy state can a womanoccupy to procure such safeguards? It is undoubtedly that of aprofessional society woman. 

"You are doubtless astonished at the strange conclusion to which myserious reasoning has led me. You will be still more astonished whenyou 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 notlacking in it, however frivolous I may appear to be, and you willfinish by being of my opinion. 

"Do you believe that the outward appearance of virtue guarantees theheart against the assaults of love? A poor resource. When a womandescends to a weakness, is not her humiliation proportionately asgreat as the esteem she hoped to secure? The brighter her virtue, theeasier mark for malice. 

"What is the world's idea of a virtuous woman? Are not men so unjustas to believe that the wisest woman is she who best conceals herweakness; or who, by a forced retreat puts herself beyond thepossibility of having any? Rather than accord us a single perfection, they carry wickedness to the point of attributing to us a perpetualstate of violence, every time we undertake to resist their advances. One of our friends said: 'There is not an honest woman who is nottired of being so. ' And what recompense do they offer us for the crueltorments to which they have condemned us? Do they raise up an altar toour heroism? No! The most honest woman, they say, is she who is nottalked about, that is to say, a perfect indifference on the part of awoman, a general oblivion is the price of our virtue. Must women nothave much of it to preserve it at such a price? Who would not betempted to abandon it? But there are grave matters which can not beoverlooked. 

"Dishonor closely follows upon weakness. Old age is dreadful initself, what must it not be when it is passed in remorse? I feel thenecessity of avoiding such a misfortune. I calculated at first that Icould not succeed in, doing so, without condemning myself to a life ofausterity, and I had not the courage to undertake it. But it graduallydawned upon me that the condition of a society woman was alonecompetent to reconcile virtue with pleasure. From the smile on yourface, I suspect such an idea appears to be a paradox to you. But it ismore reasonable than you imagine. 

"Tell me this: Is a society woman obliged to have an attachment? Isshe not exempt from tenderness? It is sufficient for her to be amiableand courteous, everything on the surface. As soon as she becomesexpert in the role she has undertaken, then, the only mistrust theworld has of her is that she has no heart. A fine figure, haughtyairs, caprices, fashionable jargon, fantasies, and fads, that is allthat is required of her. She can be essentially virtuous withimpunity. Does any one presume to make advances? If he meet withresistance he quickly gives over worrying her, he thinks her heart isalready captured, and he patiently awaits his turn. His perseverancewould be out of place, for she would notify a man who failed to payher deference, that it was owing to arrangements made before heoffered himself. In this way a woman is protected by the bad opinionhad of her. 

"I read in your eyes that you are about to say to me: The state of aprofessional society woman may injure my reputation, and plunge meinto difficulties I seek to avoid. Is not that your thought? But doyou not know, Monsieur, that the most austere conduct does not guard awoman from the shafts of malice? The opinion men give of women'sreputation, and the good and wrong ideas they acquire of us are alwaysequally false. It is prejudice, it is a species of fatality whichgoverns their judgment, so that our glory depends less upon a realvirtue than upon auspicious circumstances. The hope of filling anhonorable place in their imagination, ought not to be the soleincentive to the practice of virtue, it should be the desire to have agood opinion of ourselves, and to be able to say, whatever may be theopinion 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 Ireappeared in the world, than to don the mask I deemed the mostfavorable to my peace of mind and to my glory. I became closelyattached to the friend who aided me with her counsel. She is theMarquise de ----, a relative. Our sentiments were in perfect accord. We frequented the same society. Charity for our neighbors was trulynot our favorite virtue. We made our appearance in a social circle asinto a ball room, where we were the only masks. We indulged in allsorts of follies, we goaded the absurd into showing themselves intheir true character. After having amused ourselves in this comedy, we had not yet reached the limit of our pleasure, it was renewed inprivate interviews. How absolutely idiotic the women appeared to us, and the men, how vacuous, fatuous, and impertinent! If we found anywho could inspire fear in a woman's heart, that is, esteem, we broketheir heart by our airs, by affecting utter indifference for them, andby the allurements we heaped upon those who deserved them the least. By force of our experience, we came near believing, that in order tobe virtuous, it was necessary to frequent bad company. 

"This course of conduct guaranteed us for a long time against thesnares of love, and saved us from the dreadful weariness a sad andmore 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 inthis character. We never met a man we were afraid of. Those who mighthave been redoubtable, were obliged to make themselves ridiculousbefore being permitted to enjoy our society. 

"But what finally led me to doubt the truth of my principles, is theydid not always guard me from the dangers I wished to avoid. I havelearned through my own experience, that love is a traitor with whom itwill not do to trifle. I do not know by what fatality, the Marquis deSévigné was able to render my projects futile. In spite of all myprecautions he has found the way to my heart. However much I resistedhim I was impelled to love him, and my reason is of no more use to meexcept to justify in my own eyes the inclination I feel for him. Iwould be happy if he never gave me an occasion to change mysentiments. I have been unable to hide from him my true thoughts, Iwas afraid at first that he might deem me actually as ridiculous as Iseemed to be. And when my sincerity shall render me less amiable inhis eyes (for I know that frivolity captures men more than realmerit), I wish to show myself to him in my true colors. I should blushto owe nothing to his heart but a perpetual lie of my whole being. "

"I am still less surprised, Madame, " said Monsieur de la Sablière, "atthe novelty of your project, than at the skill with which you havesucceeded in rendering such a singular idea plausible. Permit me tosay, that it is not possible to go astray with more spirit. Have youexperimented with everybody according to your system? Men go a longway around to avoid the beaten track, but they all fall over the sameobstacles. To make use of the privilege you granted me to tell youplainly my thought, believe me, Countess, that the only way for you topreserve your peace of mind is to resume openly your position as areasonable woman. There is nothing to be gained by compounding withvirtue. "

When I heard the conversation taking that complexion, I knew it wouldsoon finish, and I therefore promptly withdrew, and could not think ofanything but satisfying your curiosity. I am tired of writing. In twodays 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 notbe altogether to your liking. You have never had so fine an occasionto charge women with caprice. I wrote you the last time to tell youthat you were loved, to-day I write just the contrary. 

A strange resolution has been taken against you; tremble, 'tis a thingsettled; the Countess purposes loving you at her ease, and without itscosting her any disturbance of her peace of mind. She has seen theconsequences of a passion similar to yours, and she can not face itwithout dismay. She intends, therefore, to arrest its progress. Do notlet the proofs she has given you reassure you. You men imagine that assoon as a woman has confessed her love she can never more break herchains; undeceive yourself. The Countess is much more reasonable onyour account than I thought, and I do not hide from you the fact thata portion of her firmness is due to my advice. You need not rely anymore on my letters, and you do not require any help from them tounderstand 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 theCountess? 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 hadthought. 

What a stock of reason! What a combination of all the estimablequalities in our friend! No, Marquis, I could no longer withhold fromher the sentiment of my most tender esteem, and without consultingyour interests, I have united with her against you. You will murmur atthis, but the confidence she has given me, does it not demand thisreturn on my part? I will not hide from you any of my wickedness; Ihave carried malice to the point of instructing her in the advantagesyou might draw from everything I have written you about women. 

"I feel, " she said to me, "how redoubtable is a lover who combineswith so much knowledge of the heart, the talent to express himself insuch noble and delicate language. What advantages can he not have ofwomen who reason? I have remarked it, it is by his powers of reasoningthat he has overcome them. He possesses the art of employing theintelligence he finds in a woman to justify, in the eyes of hisreason, the errors into which he draws her. Besides, a woman in lovethinks she is obliged to proportion her sacrifices to the goodqualities of the man she loves. To an ordinary man, a weakness is aweakness, he blushes at it; to a man of intelligence, it is a tributepaid to his merits, it is even a proof of our discernment; heeulogizes our good taste and takes the credit of it. It is thus byturning 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 amnot sure if they leave you much to hope for. I do not ignore the factthat it might have doubtless been better to carry out the project wehave in view without giving you any information concerning it. Thatwas our first intention; but could I in conscience secretly workagainst you? Would it not have been to betray you? Moreover, by takingthat course, we should have appeared to be afraid of you, and hence wefound courage to put you in possession of all we expect to do toresist 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 fearingyou. Remember that you have not now a weak loving woman to fightagainst, she would be too feeble an adversary, her courage might giveout; it is I, now, it is a woman of cold blood, who fancies herselfinterested in saving the reason of her friend from being wrecked. Yes, I will penetrate to the bottom of your heart; I will read there yourperverse designs; I will forestall them; I will render all theartifices 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 mostexact equity. While your inexperience needed enlightenment, assistance, encouragement, my zeal in your cause urged me to sacrificeeverything in your interests. Every advantage was then on the side ofthe Countess. But now there is a different face on things; all herpride to-day, is barely strong enough to resist you. Formerly, herindifference was in her favor, and, what was worth still more, yourlack of skill; to-day you have the experience, and she has her reasonthe less. 

After that, to combine with you against her, to betray the confidenceshe reposes in me, to refuse her the succor she has the right toexpect from me, if you are sincere, you will avow it yourself, wouldbe a crying wrong. Henceforth, I purpose to repair the evil I havedone in revealing our secrets, by initiating you into our mysteries. Ido not know why, but the pleasure I feel in crossing you, appears tobe working in my favor, and you know how far my rights oven youextend. My sentiments will always be the same, and, on your partwithout 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 youraffairs, because they oppose your success, and you are ready toabandon the game? Dear me, I thought you had more courage. It is truethat the firmness of the Countess astonishes even me, but I do notunderstand how she could hold out against your ardor for an entireevening. I never saw you so seductive, and she has just confessed tome 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. Isaw still farther, and I judge from her well sustained ironicalconversation, that she is only moderately smitten. A woman reallywounded by the shaft of love would not have played with sentiment insuch a flippant manner. 

This gives birth to a strange idea. It would be very delightful, if ina joking way, we should discover that your tender Adelaide does notlove you up to a certain point. What a blow that would be to yourvanity! But you would quickly seek revenge. You might certainly findbeauties ready to console you for your loss. How often has vexationmade you say: "What is a woman's heart? Can any one give me adefinition of it?"

However, do you know that I am tempted to find fault with you, and ifyou take this too much to heart, I do not know what I would not do tosoften the situation. But I know you are strong minded. Your firstfeelings of displeasure past, you will soon see that the best thingyou can do is to come down to the quality of friend, a position whichwe have so generously offered you. You ought to consider yourself veryfortunate, your dismissal might be made absolute. But do not make thisout to be much of a victory, you will be more harshly treated if weconsider 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 discretionwith which you have treated us; not to insist when two ladies seem tobe so contrary to you, that is the height of gallantry. So muchmodesty will certainly disarm them, and may some day move them topity. Hope, that is permitted you. 

From the Countess. 

Although you may be inspired by the most flattering hopes, Marquis, Iwill add a few words to this letter. I have not read it, but I suspectthat it refers to me. I wish, however, to write you with my own handthat we shall be alone here all day. I wish to tell you that I loveyou moderately well at present, but that I have the greatest desirein the world not to love you at all. However, if you deem it advisableto come and trouble our little party, it gives me pleasure to warn youthat your heart will be exposed to the greatest danger. I am told thatI am handsomer to-day than you have ever found me to be, and I neverfelt 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. Explainyourself, I pray you. Did you pretend to speak seriously in yourletter, in making it understood that I was acting on this occasionthrough jealousy, and that I was trying to separate you and theCountess to profit by it myself?

You are either the wickedest of men or the most adroit; the wickedestif 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 seevery clearly in all this, that the alternative is equally injurious tome, since the Countess has taken the matter to heart. I find that myrelations with her are very embarrassing. Criminal that you are, howwell you know your ascendency over her heart! You could not betterattack her than by the appearance of indifference you affect. Notdeign 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 thecoldest letter possible, oh, I confess it frankly, that is to act likea perfect man; that is what I call a master stroke, and the mostcomplete success has responded to your hope. The Countess has notbeen able to stand against so much coolness. The fear that thisindifference may become real has caused her a mortal anxiety. 

Great Heavens! What is the most reasonable woman when love has turnedher head? Why were you not the witness of the reproaches I have justheard? How is that? To hear the Countess to-day, gave me an injuriousopinion of her virtue, a false idea of your pretensions, and Iconsidered your designs criminal because you took so much pleasure inpunishing her. 

I am hard, unjust, cruel, I can not remember all the epithets withwhich I was covered. What outbursts! Oh, I protest to you, this willbe the last storm I will undergo for being mixed up in your affairs, and I very cordially renounce the confidence with which you have bothhonored me. Advisers do not play a very agreeable part in such cases, so it seems to me, always charged with what is disagreeable inquarrels, and the lovers only profit by a reconciliation. 

However, after due reflection, I think I should be very silly to takeoffence at this. You are two children whose follies will amuse me, Iought to look upon them with the eye of a philosopher, and finish bybeing the friend of both. Come then, at once, and assure me if thatresolution will suit you. Now, do not play the petty cruel role anymore. Come and make peace. These poor children; one of them has suchinnocent motives, the other is so sure of her virtue, that to stand inthe way of their inclination, is surely to afflict them withoutreason. 

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 withthe most reasonable woman, is never to meddle with her heart affairs. I have, therefore, made up my mind. Henceforward I shall never mentionyour name to the Countess unless she insists upon my doing so; I donot like bickerings. 

But this resolution will change nothing of my sentiments for you, normy friendship for her. And, although I still stand her friend, I shallnot 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 giveyou my ideas on the situations in which you may become involved, oncondition, however, that you permit me sometimes to laugh at yourexpense, a liberty I shall not take to-day, because if the Countessfollows up the plan she has formed, that is, if she persists inrefusing to see you alone, I do not see that your affairs will advancevery rapidly. She remembers what I told her, she knows her heart, andhas reason to fear it. 

It is only an imprudent woman who relies upon her own strength, andexposes herself without anxiety to the advances of the man she loves. The agitation which animates him, the fire with which his whole personappears to be burning, excites our senses, fires our imagination, appeals to our desires. I said to the Countess one day: "We resembleyour clavecin; however well disposed it may be to respond to the handwhich should play upon it, until it feels the impression of that hand, it remains silent; touch its keys, and sounds are heard. " Finish theparallel, 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 herlittle attentions, carry the delicacy of sentiment beyond the range ofmortal vision, feel edified at her discourses on virtue, are not thesesupreme felicity for you? Leave for earthy souls the gross sentimentswhich are beginning to develop in you. To look at you to-day, it mightbe said that I was not so far out of the way when I declared love tobe the work of the senses. Your own experience will compel you to avowthat I had some good reason for saying so, for which I am not at allsorry. Consider yourself punished for your injustice. Adieu. 

Your old rival, the Chevalier, has revenged himself for the rigors ofthe Countess, by tying himself up with the Marquise, her relative. This choice is assuredly a eulogy on his good taste, they are made foreach other. I shall be very much charmed to know whither their finepassion will lead them. 

XXXVI

Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women

Do you think, Marquis, that I have not felt all the sarcasm you havedeigned to turn against me on account of my pretended reconciliationwith the Countess? Know this, sir, that we have never been at outs. 

It is true, she begged me to forget her vivacity, which she claimedwas due to her love, and she insisted that I should continue to giveher good counsel. But Good Heavens! Of what use are my counsels exceptto provide you with an additional triumph? The best advice I can giveher is to break off her relations with you, for whatever confidenceshe may have in her pride, her only preservative against you isflight. She believes, for example, that she used her reason with goodeffect in the conversation you have related to me. But everyreasonable woman does not fail to use the same language as soon as alover shows her some respectful pretensions. 

"I only want your heart, " they say, "your sentiments, your esteem isall I desire. Alas! you will find only too many women with so littledelicacy as to believe themselves very happy in accepting what Irefuse. I will never envy them a happiness of that kind. "

Be on your guard, Marquis, and do not openly combat such finesentiments; to doubt a woman's sincerity on such occasions, is to domore than offend them, it is to be maladroit. You must applaud theirmistaken idea if you would profit by it. They wish to appearhigh-minded, and sensible only of the pleasures of the soul, it istheir system, their esprit du corps. If some women are in good faithon this point, how many are there who treat it as an illusion and wishto impose it upon you?

But whatever may be the reason which impels them to put you on a falsescent, ought you not to be delighted that they are willing to take thetrouble to deceive you? What obligations are you not under? They givein this manner, a high value to those who, without it, would be veryundesirable. Admire our strategy when we feign indifference to whatyou call the pleasures of love, pretending even to be far removed fromits sweetness, we augment the grandeur of the sacrifice we make foryou, by it, we even inspire the gratitude of the authors of the verybenefits we receive from them, you are satisfied with the good you dous. 

And since it was said that we make it a duty to deceive you, whatobligation do you not owe us? We have chosen the most obliging way todo it. You are the first to gain by this deceit, for we can notmultiply obstacles without enhancing the price of your victory. Troubles, cares, are not these the money with which lovers pay fortheir pleasures? What a satisfaction for your vanity to be able tosay within yourselves: "This woman, so refined, so insensible to theimpressions of the senses; this woman who fears disdain so much, comesto me, nevertheless, and sacrifices her repugnance, her fears, herpride? My own merit, the charms of my person, my skill, havesurmounted invincible objects for something quite different. Howsatisfied I am with my prowess!"

If women acted in good faith, if they were in as much haste to showyou their desires as you are to penetrate them, you could not talkthat way. How many pleasures lost! But you can not impute wrong tothis artifice, it gives birth to so many advantages. Pretend to bedeceived, 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 militaryman, is often exposed to bad company, consequently, he is attracted bythe divinities you mention. In spite of that you are not deceived, andI would probably censure you, if I were not so sure, that, in thepresent state of your heart, the heroines of the theater are notdangerous to you. But the Countess is less indulgent, you say. Herjealousy does not astonish me, she confirms my ideas concerning femalemetaphysicians. I know how much credit is due their sincerity. Hercomplaints are very singular, for, what is she deprived of? The womenin question are nothing but women of sentiment, and it is to sentimentthat the Countess is attached. 

How little women are in accord! They pretend to despise women of thestage; they fear them too much to despise them. But after all, arethey wrong to consider them rivals? Are you not more captivated withtheir free and easy style, than with that of a sensible woman who hasnothing to offer but order, decency, and uniformity? With the former, men are at their ease, they appear to be in their element; with thelatter, men are kept within bounds, obliged to stand on theirdignity, and to be very circumspect. From the portrait of several ofthem, I should judge that there are some of them very capable ofmaking many men unfaithful to the most beloved mistress. But with asensible man, this infidelity, if it be one, can not be of longduration. These women may create a sudden, lively desire, but never averitable passion. 

The fairies of the operatic stage would be too dangerous, if they hadthe wit or the humor always to amuse you as much as they do the firsttime you are thrown on their company. However little jargon, habits, and decency they have on the surface, it is possible that they mayplease you at first. You men have so little refinement sometimes! Thefreedom of their conversation, the vivacity of their sallies ofalleged wit, their giddy ways, all this affords you a situation thatcharms; a lively and silly joy seizes upon you, the hours you passwith them seem to be only moments. But happily for you, they seldompossess sufficient resources to maintain a role so amusing. Inasmuchas they lack education and culture, they soon travel around the smallcircle of their accomplishments. They feed you with the samepleasantries, the same stories, the same antics, and it is seldom onelaughs twice at the same thing when one has no esteem for the funmaker. 

The Countess need not worry, for I know you well enough to assure herthat it is not that class of women she may apprehend, there are in theworld, others more redoubtable, they are the "gallant women, " thoseequivocal women in society. They occupy a middle position between goodwomen and those I have been talking about; they associate with theformer and are not different from the latter except on the surface. More voluptuous than tender, they seduce by lending to the leastrefined sentiments an air of passion which is mistaken for love. Theyunderstand how to convey an impression of tenderness to what is only ataste for pleasure. They make you believe that it is by choice, by aknowledge of your merit that they yield. If you do not know them to begallant women, the shade of difference which distinguishes the truemotives which actuates them, from the sensibility of the heart, isimpossible to seize. You accept for excess of passion what is only anintoxication of the senses. You imagine you are loved because you arelovable, but it is only because you are a man. 

These are the women I should fear if I were in the place of theCountess. The financial woman who has lately appeared in societybelongs to this class, but I have already warned the Countess. 

I call to mind, here, that in your preceding letter, you mentioned theallurements which the Countess thought proper to manifest? She wasright in taking umbrage. Your passion for her is truly too great toprevent you from sacrificing everything, but I fear you will notalways be so honest. 

Madame de ---- possesses bloom and cheerfulness; she is at an age whenwomen assume charge of young men who desire to be fitted for society, and to learn their first lessons in gallantry. The interesting andaffectionate disposition you find in her will have its effect, but becareful, it is I who warn you. Although I despise such women, ithappens that they have the power to create attachments; they oftenfind the secret of making you commit more follies than any of theother women. 

XXXVIII

Varieties of Resistance are Essential

I hasten to tell you, Marquis, that I have just maintained a thesisagainst Monsieur de la Bruyère. No doubt you admire my temerity?However it is true. He pretends that Corneille described men as theyshould be, and Racine as they are; I held the contrary. We had someillustrious spectators of the dispute, and I ought to be very proud ofthe suffrages in my favor. 

But all the details would be too long to write you, so come and wewill talk them over. Every one has his own fashion of describingthings, I have mine, I know. I represent women as they are, and I amvery sorry not to be able to represent them as they should be. Now Ishall reply to your letter. 

The species of languor which affects you does not surprise me. Themalady which afflicts the Marquise has deprived you of the pleasure ofseeing the Countess, and your heart remaining in the same conditionfor three days, it is not surprising that ennui should have gainedupon it. Neither does your present indifference for the Countess alarmme. 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 itis absolutely impossible for it to be always employed with the sameobject, there are moments of indifference, the cause of which can notbe ascertained. The livelier the emotions of the heart, the moreprofound the calm that is sure to follow, and it is this calm that isalways more fateful to the object loved than storm and agitation. Loveis extinguished by a resistance too severe or constant. But anintelligent woman goes beyond that, she varies her manner ofresisting; this is the sublimity of the art. 

Now, with the Countess, the duties of friendship are preferable to theclaims of love, and that is another reason for your indifferencetoward her. Love is a jealous and tyrannical sentiment, which is neversatiated until the object loved has sacrificed upon its altar alldesires and passions. You do nothing for it unless you do everything. Whenever you prefer duty, friendship, etc. , it claims the right tocomplain. It demands revenge. The small courtesies you deemed itnecessary to show Madame de ---- are proofs of it. I would have muchpreferred, though, you had not carried them so far as accompanying herhome. The length of time you passed in her company, the pleasure youexperienced in conversing with her, the questions she put to you onthe state of your heart, all goes to prove the truth of what I said inmy last letter. It is vain for you to protest that you came away moreamorous than ever of the Countess, your embarrassment when sheinquired whether you had remained long with your "fermière générale, "the attempt you made to deceive her by an evasive answer, the extremecare you took to disarm her slightest suspicion, are indications to methat you are far more guilty than you pretend, or than you are awareof yourself. 

The Countess suffers the consequences of all that. Do you not see howshe affects to rouse your jealousy by praising the Chevalier, yourancient rival? For once, I can assure you that you will not so soon beaffected by the languors we mentioned a short time ago. Jealousy willgive you something to think about. Do you count for nothing, thesufferings of the Marquise? You will soon see her, the ravages of thesmallpox will not alone disfigure her face, for her disposition willbe 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 willhate 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 theothers in the shade. What storms I foresee!

I had forgotten to quarrel with you about your treatment of me. Youhave been so indiscreet as to show my recent letters to M. De laRochefoucauld. I will cease writing you if you continue to divulge mysecret. I am willing to talk personally with him about my ideas, but Iam far from flattering myself that I write well enough to withstandthe 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 herwild. Her resolution not to show herself for a long time does notsurprise me. How could she appear in public in such a state? If theaccident which humiliates her had not happened, how she would havemade the poor Chevalier suffer! Does not this prove that female virtuedepends upon circumstances, and diminishes with pride?

How I fear a similar example in the case of the Countess! Nothing ismore dangerous for a woman than the weaknesses of her friend; love, already too seductive in itself, becomes more so through the contagionof example, if I may so speak; it is not only in our heart that itgathers strength; it acquires new weapons against reason from itsenvironment. A woman who has fallen under its ban, deems herselfinterested, for her own justification, in conducting her friend to theedge of the same precipice, and I am not, therefore, surprised at whatthe Marquise says in your favor. Up to the present moment they havebeen guided by the same principles; what a shame, then, for her, thatthe Countess could not have been guaranteed against the effects of it!Now, the Marquise has a strong reason the more for contributing tothe defeat of her friend; she has become positively ugly, andconsequently obliged to be more complaisant in retaining a lover. Willshe suffer another woman to keep hers at a less cost? That would be torecognize too humiliating a superiority, and I can assure you that shewill do the most singular things to bring her amiable widower up tothe point. 

If she succeed, how much I fear everything will be changed! To havebeen as beautiful as another woman, and to be so no longer, althoughshe embellishes herself every day, and to suffer her presence everyday, is, I vow, an effort beyond the strength of the most reasonablewoman, greater than the most determined philosophy. Among womenfriendship ceases where rivalry begins. By rivalry, I mean that ofbeauty 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 propreof the Marquise, she will never make anything else out of her than aningrate. I do not know by what fatality, everything a beautiful womantells one who is no longer beautiful, assumes in the mouth, animpression of a commiseration which breaks down the most carefullydevised management, and humiliates her whom it is thought to console. The more a woman strives to efface the superiority she possesses overan unfortunate sister woman, the more she makes that superiorityapparent, until the latter reaches the opinion that it is onlythrough generosity that she is permitted to occupy the subordinateposition left her. 

You may depend upon it, Marquis, that women are never misled when itcomes to mutual praise; they fully appreciate the eulogiesinterchanged among themselves; and as they speak without sincerity, sothey listen with little gratitude. And although she who speaks, inpraising the beauty of another, may do so in good faith, she wholistens to the eulogy, considers less what the other says than herstyle of beauty. Is she ugly? We believe and love her, but if she beas handsome as we, we thank her coldly and disdain her; handsomer, wehate her more than before she spoke. 

You must understand this, Marquis, that as much as two beautiful womenmay have something between them to explain, it is impossible for themto form a solid friendship. Can two merchants who have the same goodsto sell become good neighbors? Men do not penetrate the true cause ofthe lack of cordiality among women. Those who are the most intimatefriends often quarrel over nothing, but do you suppose this "nothing"is the real occasion of their quarrel? It is only the pretext. We hidethe motive of our actions when to reveal it would be a humiliation. Wedo not care to make public the fact that it is jealousy for the beautyof our friend that is the real cause, to give that as the reason forestrangement would be to charge us with envy, a pleasure one womanwill not give another; she prefers injustice. Whenever it happensthat two beautiful women are so happy as to find a pretext to get ridof each other, they seize upon it with vivacity, and hate each otherwith a cordiality which proves how much they loved each other beforethe rupture. 

Well, Marquis, am I talking to you with sufficient frankness? You seeto what lengths my sincerity goes. I try to give you just ideas ofeverything, even at my own expense, for I am assuredly not more exemptthan another woman from the faults I sometimes criticise. But as I amsure that what passes between us will be buried in oblivion, I do notfear 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 ofher friend. It appears, on the contrary, that she is more on guardagainst you, and that you have drawn upon yourself her reproachesthrough some slight favor you have deprived her of. 

I have been thinking that she would not fail on this occasion torecall to your recollection, the protestations of respect anddisinterestedness you made when you declared your passion for her. Itis 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 herimagination, a proof of love and esteem, as soon as they meet on acommon ground. 

Listen to married women, and to all those who, being unmarried, permitthe same prerogatives; hear them, I say, in their secret complaintsagainst unfaithful husbands and cooling lovers. They are despised, andthat is the sole reason they can imagine. But with us, what theyconsider a mark of esteem and sincerity, is it anything else than thecontrary? I told you some time ago, that women themselves, when theyare acting in good faith, go farther than men in making love consistin an effervescence of the blood. Study a lover at the commencement ofher passion: with her, then, love is purely a metaphysical sentiment, with which the senses have not the least relation. Similar to thosephilosophers who, in the midst of grievous torments would not confessthat they were suffering pain, she is a martyr to her own system; but, at last, while combatting this chimera, the poor thing becomesaffected by a change; her lover vainly repeats that love is a divine, metaphysical sentiment, that it lives on fine phrases, on spiritualdiscourses, that it would be degrading to mingle with it anythingmaterial and human; he vainly, boasts of his respect and refinement. Itell you, Marquis, on the part of all women, that such an orator willnever make his fortune. His respect will be taken as an insult, hisrefinement for derision, and his fine discourses for ridiculouspretexts. All the grace that will be accorded him, is that she willfind a pretext to quarrel with him because he has been less refinedwith some other woman, and that he will be put to the sorrowfulnecessity of displaying his high flown sentiments to his titularmistress, and what is admirable about this is, that the excuse for itarises out of the same principle. 

P. S. --You have so much deference for my demands! You not only show myletters to M. De la Rochefoucauld, but you read them before the wholeassembly of my friends. It is true that the indulgence with which myfriends judge them, consoles me somewhat for your indiscretion, and Isee very well that the best thing for me to do is to continue on in myown way as I have in the past. But, at least, be discreet when Imention matters relating to the glory of the Countess; otherwise, noletters. 

XLI

Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor

No, Marquis, I can not pardon in you the species of fury with whichyou desire what you are pleased to call the "supreme happiness. " Howblind 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 itbecomes entire. Will you never understand, that of all there is goodon earth, it is the sweetness of love that must be used with thegreatest economy?

If I were a man and were so fortunate as to have captured the heart ofa woman like the Countess, with what discretion I would use myadvantages? How many gradations there would be in the law I shouldimpose upon myself to overlook them successively and even leisurely?Of how many amiable pleasures, unknown to men, would not I be thecreator? 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 isall mine, that I may dispose of it and yet maintain my resolution notto deprive myself of its use. 

What a satisfaction to read in the eyes of an adorable woman the poweryou have over her; to see her slightest acts give birth to animpression of tenderness, whenever they relate to you; to hear hervoice soften when it is to you or of you she speaks; to enjoy herconfusion at your slightest eagerness, her anxiety at your mostinnocent caresses? Is there a more delicious condition than that of alover who is sure of being loved, and can there be any sweeter than atsuch moments? What a charm for a lover to be expected with animpatience that is not concealed; to be received with an eagerness allthe more flattering from the effort made to hide the half of it?

She dresses in a fashion to please; she assumes the deportment, thestyle, the pose that may flatter her lover the most. In former timeswomen dressed to please in general, now their entire toilette is toplease men; for his sake she wears bangles, jewelry, ribbons, bracelets, rings. He is the object of it all, the woman is transformedinto the man; it is he she loves in her own person. Can you findanything in love more enchanting than the resistance of a woman whoimplores 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 ofwhich she attempts to soften by tender looks, before a complaint ismade? I can not conceive any. 

But it is certain that as soon as she yields to your eagerness, allthese pleasures weaken in proportion to the facility met. You alonemay prolong them, even increase them, by taking the time to know allthe sweetness and its taste. However, you are not satisfied unlessthe possession, be entire, easy, and continuous. And after that, youare surprised to find indifference, coolness, and inconstancy in yourheart. Have you not done everything to satiate your passion for thebeloved object? I have always contended that love never dies fromdesire but often from indigestion, and I will sometime tell you inconfidence my feelings for Count ----. You will understand from thathow to manage a passion to render happiness enduring; you will seewhether I know the human heart and true felicity; you will learn frommy example that the economy of the sentiments is, in the question oflove, the only reasonable metaphysics. In fine, you will know howlittle you understand your true interests in your conduct toward theCountess. To interfere with your projects, I shall be with her asoften as it is possible. Now, do not be formal, and tell me that I aman advocate on both sides; for I am persuaded that I am acting for thegood 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, Iassure 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 hadnothing to do but to treat the Countess roughly. Her easy fashion oftreating love, her accessibility, her indulgence for your numerousfaults, the freedom with which she mocks the Platonicians, all thisencouraged you to hope that she was not very severe, but you have justdiscovered your mistake. All this outward show was nothing butdeceitful and perfidious allurements. To take advantage thus of thegood faith of any one--I must confess that it is a conduct which criesfor vengeance; she deserves all the names you give her. 

But do you wish me to talk to you with my customary frankness? Youhave fallen into an error which is common among men. They judge womenfrom the surface. They imagine that a woman whose virtue is not alwayson the qui vive, will be easier to overcome than a prude; evenexperience does not undeceive them. How often are they exposed to aseverity all the keener that it was unexpected? Their custom then, isto accuse women of caprice and oddity; all of you use the samelanguage, and say: Why such equivocal conduct? When a woman hasdecided 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 himagain? Is this not being odd and false? Is it not trifling withsentiment?

You are in error, gentlemen, you are imposing upon your vanity, it isin vain you try to put us on a false scent, that, of itself, isoffensive, and you talk of sentiment as ennobling a thing thatresembles it very little. Are not you, yourselves, to blame if wetreat you thus? However little intelligence a woman may have, sheknows 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 armherself from the first with a severity that would indicate that she isinvincible, from that time, no lovers for her. What a solitude wouldbe hers, what shame even? For a woman of the most pronounced virtue isno less sensible of the desire to please, she makes her glory consistin securing homage and adoration. But without ignoring the fact thatthose she expects attention from are induced to bestow them only forreasons that wound her pride; unable to reform this defect, the onlypart she can take is to use it to her advantage to keep them by herside; she knows how to keep them, and not destroy the very hopeswhich, however, she is determined never to gratify. With care andskill she succeeds. Hence, as soon as a woman understands her realinterests she does not fail to say to herself what the Countessconfessed to me at our last interview:

"I can well appreciate the 'I love you' of the men; I do not disguisethe fact that I know what it signifies at bottom, therefore upon merests the burden of being offended at hearing them; but when womenhave penetrated their motives, they have need of their vanity todisconcert their designs. Our anger, when they have offended us, isnot the best weapon to use in opposing them. Whoever must go outsideherself and become angry to resist them, exposes her weakness. A fineirony, a piquant raillery, a humiliating coolness, these are whatdiscourage them. Never a quarrel with them, consequently noreconciliation. What advantages does not this mode of procedure takefrom them!

"The prude, it is true, follows a quite different method. If she isexposed to the least danger, she does not imagine herself to bereasonable but in proportion to the resentment she experiences; butupon whom does such conduct impose? Every man who knows the cards, says to himself: 'I am ill used because the opportunity isunfavorable. It is my awkwardness that is punished and not mytemerity. Another time, that will be well received which is a crimeto-day; this severity is a notice to redouble my effort, to merit moreindulgence and disarm pride; she wishes to be appeased. ' And the onlymeans in such case to make her forget the offense is, that in makingan apology to repeat it a second time. With my recipe, I am certainthat a man will never reason that way. 

"The Marquis, for example, has sometimes permitted me to read in hiseyes his respectful intentions. I never knew but one way to punishhim; I have feigned not to understand him; insensibly, I have divertedhis mind to other objects. And this recipe has worked well up to themoment I last saw him at my house. There was no way to dissimulatewith him; he wished to honor me with some familiarities, and I stoppedhim immediately, but not in anger. I deemed it more prudent to armmyself with reason than with anger. I appeared to be more afflictedthan irritated, and I am sure my grief touched his heart more thanbitter reproaches which might have alarmed him. He went away very muchdissatisfied; and just see what the heart is: at first, I was afraid Ihad driven him away forever, I was tempted to reproach myself for mycruelty, but, upon reflection, I felt reassured. Has severity everproduced inconstancy?"

To go on: We talked until we were out of breath, and everything theCountess 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, considerher as odd and inhuman, she will not accept any of the sweetness oflove unless it costs her pride nothing, and I observe that she isfollowing that resolution with more firmness than I imagined hercapable of. The loss of your heart would undoubtedly be a misfortunefor which she could never be consoled. But, on the other hand, theconditions you place upon your perseverance appear too hard to beaccepted; she is willing to compromise with you. She hopes to be ableto hold you without betraying her duty, a project worthy of hercourage, and I hope it will succeed better than the plan she hadformed to guarantee her heart against love. Let us await the outcome. 

Shall we see you to-morrow at Madame la Presidente's? If you shoulddesire to have an occasion to speak to her, I do not doubt that youwill make your peace. 

XLIII

Women Demand Respect

I should never have expected it, Marquis. What! My zeal in your behalfhas drawn your reproaches down upon me? I share with the Countess thebad humor her severity has caused! you. Do you know? If what you saywere well founded, nothing could be more piquant for me than theironical tone in which you laud my principles. But to render meresponsible for your success, as you attempt, have you dared think foran instant that my object in writing you, was ever for the purpose ofgiving you lessons in seduction? Do you not perceive any difference inteaching you to please, and exciting you toward seduction? I have toldyou the motives which incline women to love, it is true, but have Iever said that they were easier to vanquish? Have I ever told you toattack them by sensuality, and that in attacking them to suppose themwithout delicacy? I do not believe it. 

When your inexperience and your timidity might cause you to play therole of a ridiculous personage among women, I explained the harm thesedefects might cause you in the world. I advised you to have moreconfidence, in order to lead you insensibly in the direction of thatnoble and respectful boldness you should have when with women. But assoon as I saw that your pretensions were going too far, and that theymight wound the reputation of the Countess, I did not dissimulate, Itook sides against you, and nothing was more reasonable, I had becomeher friend. You see, then, how unjust you are in my regard, and youare no less so in regard to her. You treat her as if she were anequivocal character. According to your idea, she has neither decidedfor 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 withoutprejudice, would see in the Countess only a lover as reasonable as sheis 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 itis the source of the inequalities that wound you. Figure to yourselfthe combats she must sustain, the revolutions she suffers, herembarrassment in endeavoring to preserve a lover whom too uniform aresistance might repel. If she were sure of keeping you by resistingyour advances; but you carry your odd conduct to the extent of leavingher when her resistance is too prolonged. While praising our virtue, you abandon us, and then, what shame for us! But since in both casesit is not certain that her lover will be held, it is preferable toaccept the inconvenient rather than cause you to lose her heart andher esteem. 

That is our advice, for the Countess and I think precisely alike onthe subject. Be more equitable, Marquis; complain of her rather thancriticise her. If her character were more decided, perhaps you wouldbe better satisfied with her; but, even in that case would you besatisfied 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 bepresented me. The assembly will be brilliant, but you will doubtlessbe 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 thegarden 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 thatyou are more satisfied with the Countess and with yourself. Howpowerful logic is coming from the mouth of a woman we adore! You seehow the conduct of our friend has produced an opposite effect fromthat of the Marquise; the severity of the former increasing youresteem and love for her and the kindness of the Marquise making anunfaithful lover out of the Chevalier. So it generally happens amongmen, ingratitude is commonly the price of benefits. This misfortune, however, is not always beyond the reach of remedies, and in thisconnection I wish to give you the contents of a letter I received fromMonsieur de Saint-Evremond a few days ago. You are not ignorant of theintimate relations that have always existed between us. 

The young Count de ---- had just espoused Mademoiselle ----, of whomhe was passionately amorous. He complained one day to me that hymenand the possession of the beloved object weakened every day, and oftendestroyed the most tender love. We discussed the subject for a longtime, and as I happened to write to Saint-Evremond that day, Isubmitted 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 notalways, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved objectwhich, of itself, destroys love, the true source of thedissatisfaction that follows love is in the unintelligent manner ofeconomizing the sentiments, a possession too easy, complete, andprolonged. 

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 aprofound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms andchills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calmwhich follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equaland more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desireanything. 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 spouseor a lover, should leave him something to be desired, something newshould be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I willvouch for his perseverance in fidelity. 

I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat, " is, inan ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon thelover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the coolingof the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is dueto her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expendedin a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination shehad excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of herlover, 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 byeffusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us thecertainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all theesteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch when aman of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which have alwaysbeen hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires who brings intoplay all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; herheart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far fromleading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. 

But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able tocontrol her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love withprudence, with restraint, and modesty is for that reason the mostingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to theimpetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in theobject loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That isnot love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover intoa spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve andeconomy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, theheart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will benothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive ina lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, willexperience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity ofseparating. 

To sum up; there is more intelligence required to love than isgenerally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of thefatal "yes, " or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a womandoes not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches thesummit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care toretain him, as he exhibited in overcoming her; the desire to keep himshould render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to ahigh position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficient tomake a man amorous; to render him constant, something more isnecessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal ofintelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and fickleness. Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become tootender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good, ifthey were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. Imaintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving theheart something to wish for, and the time to consider. 

I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is alwaysthe fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling thetime when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by theirside. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still intheir power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which isso dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they willnot be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shallbecome more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing newdifficulties, arousing our anxieties, in fine, forcing us to desirenew proofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes itsvalue in our estimation. They will then find less cause of complaintin us, and will be better satisfied with themselves. 

Shall I frankly avow it? Things would indeed change, if women wouldremember at the right time that their role is always that of the partyto be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors; that, created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in anexcess of passion, they should guard against surrendering atdiscretion; the lover should always have something to ask, andconsequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favorswithout limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on thesame level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat, areindistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority;but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing further todo than to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper andfaithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be thefoundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; butthese qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offsetby a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bringon languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constitutedheart. 

Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoyingprosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so muchpleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identicallyerroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, theother fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessaryconsequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglectsto be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by thepractice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, andhenceforward, no more seasoning in their relations; no more of thosetrifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction byforestalling it. 

But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated byoccasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretendlovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I onlydesire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings shouldemanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by aspecies of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her;that by an excessive sensitiveness, she does not convert her love intoa source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of herexistence; that by a scrupulous fidelity, she may not render her lovertoo sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. 

Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness oftemper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts oftheir spouses or their lovers by too many indulgences and facilities. What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificingeverything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soonbecome accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as afavor. 

You see women every day (even among those we despise with so muchreason), who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who areattached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I ampersuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would neverthink of following such an example. That military manner is repugnantto gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes thecharm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable womansoften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what isnecessary to hold a lover. 

We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we oftendemand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in thebottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us thatthe 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 energyof love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope forhappiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as theycan govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their owninclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromisingit and without abusing it. 

XLV

What Favors Men Consider Faults

To explain in two words to your satisfaction, Marquis. This is what Ithink of the letter I sent you yesterday: For a woman to profit by theadvice of Monsieur de Saint-Evremond it is requisite that she shouldbe affected with only a mediocre fancy, and have excited the passionof love. However, we shall talk about that more at large whenever itmay please you, now, I will take up what concerns you. 

The sacrifice the Countess has exacted of you is well worth the priceyou put upon it. To renounce for her sake, a woman whose exteriorproclaimed her readiness to accord you whatever favor you might bewilling to ask; to renounce her publicly, in the presence of herrival, and with so little regard for her vanity, is an effort whichnaturally will not pass without a proportionate recompense. TheCountess could not have found a happier pretext for giving you herportrait. 

But to take a solemn day when the Marquise received at her home forthe first time since her illness; to select a moment when the moneyedwoman was taking up arms to make an assault of beauty upon a woman ofrank; to speak to her merely in passing, to pretend to surrenderyourself entirely to the pleasure of seeing her rival; to entertainthe latter and become one of her party, is an outrage for which youwill never be pardoned. Revenge will come quickly, and be as cruel aspossible, you will see. It is I who guarantee it. Now for the secondparagraph of your letter:

You ask me whether the last favor, or rather the last fault we cancommit, 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, andshe is refined and virtuous. But even in such a case, this proof willnot be any more certain, or more flattering for you, than all theothers she may have given you of her inclination. Whatever a woman maydo when she loves, even things of the slightest essential nature inappearance are as much certain marks of her passion, as those greaterthings of which men are so proud. I will even add, that if thisvirtuous woman is of a certain disposition, the last favor will proveless than a thousand other small sacrifices you count for nothing, forthen, on her own behalf less than on yours, she is too much interestedin listening to you, for you to claim the glory of having persuadedher, although every one else would have been accorded the same favor. 

I know a woman who permitted herself to be vanquished two or threetimes by men she did not love, and the man she really loved neverobtained a single favor. It may happen, then, that the last favorproves 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 regardhad for him. Women never respect themselves more than with those theyesteem, and you may be quite sure that it requires a very imperiousinclination to cause a reasonable woman to forget herself in thepresence of one whose disdain she dreads. Your pretended triumph, therefore, may originate in causes which, so far from being gloriousfor you, would humiliate you if you were aware of them. 

We see, for example, a lover who may be repelled; the woman who loveshim fears he will escape her to pay his addresses to another womanmore accommodating; she does not wish to lose him, for it is alwayshumiliating to be abandoned; she yields, because she is not aware ofany other means of holding him. They say there is nothing to reproachin this. If he leaves her after that, at least he will be put in thewrong, for, since a woman becomes attached more by the favors shegrants, she imagines the man will be forced into gratitude. Whatfolly!

Women are actuated by different motives in yielding. Curiosity impelssome, they desire to know what love is. Another woman, with fewadvantages of person or figure, would hold her lover by theattractions of pleasure. One woman is determined to make a conquestflattering to her vanity. Still another one surrenders to pity, opportunity, importunities, to the pleasure of taking revenge on arival, or an unfaithful lover. How can I enumerate them all? The heartis so very strange in its vagaries, and the reasons and causes whichactuate it are so curious and varied, that it is impossible todiscover all the hidden springs that set it in motion. But if wedelude ourselves as to the means of holding you, how often do mendeceive themselves as to the proofs of our love? If they possessed anydelicacy of discernment, they would find a thousand signs that provemore than the most signal favor granted. 

Tell me, Marquis, what have I done to Monsieur de Coulanges? It is amonth 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 themost amiable men I am acquainted with. I shall be very angry with youif you fail to bring him to me on my return from Versailles. I wanthim to sing me the last couplets he has composed, I am told they arecharming. 

XLVI

Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice

It was too kind of you, Marquis, to have noticed my absence. If I didnot write you during my sojourn in the country, it was because I knewyou were happy, and that tranquilized me. I felt too, that it wasnecessary for love to be accorded some rights, as its reign is usuallyvery short, and besides that, friendship not having any quarrel withlove, I waited patiently an interval in your pleasure which wouldenable you to read my letters. 

Do you know what I was doing while away? I amused myself by piecingout all the events liable to happen in the condition your society isnow in. I foresaw the bickerings between the Countess and her rival, and I predicted they would end in an open rupture; I also guessed thatthe Marquise would not espouse the cause of the Countess, but wouldtake up the other's quarrel. The moneyed woman is not quite sohandsome as her rival, a decisive reason for declaring for her andbacking her up without danger. 

What will be the upshot of all this quarreling among these women? Howmany revolutions, Good Heavens! in so short a time! Your happinessseems to be the only thing that has escaped. You discover new reasonsevery day for loving and esteeming this amiable Countess. You believethat a woman of so much real merit, and with so interesting a figure, will become known more and more. Let nothing weaken the esteem youhave always had for her. You have, it is true, obtained an avowal ofher 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 tothe certainty you have acquired that you are its sole possessor? Evenif you shall have obtained proofs of her inclination we spoke aboutrecently, do you think that gives you any right to underrate her?

I can not avoid saying it; men like you arouse my indignation everytime 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 injusticeand the depth of depravity to continue to insult the grief which isthe cause of their changes? Can not women be inconstant without beingunjust? 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 ourfaults, who is the cause of them, to punish us?

Always maintain for the Countess the sentiments you have expressed inher regard. Do not permit a false opinion to interfere with theprogress which they can still make in your heart. It is not our defeatalone which should render us despicable in your eyes. The manner inwhich we have been defended, delivered, and guarded, ought to be theonly measure of your disdain. 

So Madame de La Fayette is of the opinion that my last letter is basedupon rather a liberal foundation? You see where your indiscretionslead me. But she does not consider that I am no more guilty than ademonstrator of anatomy. I analyse the metaphysical man as he dissectsthe physical one. Do you believe that out of regard to scruples heshould omit in his operations those portions of his subject whichmight offer corrupted minds occasions to draw sallies out of an illregulated imagination? It is not the essence of things that causesindecency; it is not the words, or even the ideas, it is the intent ofhim who utters them, and the depravity of him who listens. Madame deLa Fayette was certainly the last woman in the world whom I would havesuspected of reproaching me in that manner, and to-morrow, at theCountess', I will make her confess her injustice. 

XLVII

Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals

What, I, Marquis, astonished at the new bickerings of your moneyedwoman? Do not doubt for an instant that she employs all therefinements of coquetry to take you away from the Countess. She mayhave a liking for you, but moderate your amour propre so far as thatis concerned, for the most powerful motive of her conduct, is, withoutcontradiction, the desire for revenge. Her vanity is interested inpunishing her rival for having obtained the preference. 

Women never pardon such a thing as that, and if he who becomes thesubject of the quarrel is not the first object of their anger, it isbecause they need him to display their resentment. You haveencountered in the rival of the Countess precisely what you exactedfrom her to strengthen your attachment. You are offered in advance theprice of the attentions you devote to her, and from which you willsoon be dispensed, and I think you will have so little delicacy as toaccept them. It is written across the heart of every man: "To theeasiest. "

You should blush to deserve the least reproach from the Countess. Whatsort of a woman is it you seem to prefer to her? A woman withoutdelicacy and without love; a woman who is guided only by theattractions of pleasure; more vain than sensible; more voluptuous thantender; more passionate than affectionate, she seeks, she cherishes inyou nothing but your youth and all the advantages that accompany it. 

You know what her rival is worth; you know all your wrong doing withher; you agree that you are a monster of ingratitude, yet, you areunwilling to take it upon yourself to merit her pardon. Truly, Marquis, I do not understand you. I am beginning to believe thatMadame de Sévigné was right when she said that her son knew his dutyvery well, and could reason like a philosopher on the subject, butthat he was carried away by his passions, so that "he is not a headfool, but a heart fool" (ce n'est pas par la tête qu'il est fou, maispar le coeur). 

You recall in vain what I said to you long ago about making love in afree and easy manner. You will remember that I was then enjoyingmyself with some jocular reflections which were not intended to beformal advice. Do not forget, either, that the question then was abouta mere passing fancy, and not of an ordinary mistress. But the caseto-day is very different, you can not find among all the women ofParis, a single one who can be compared with her you are so cruellyabandoning. And for what reason? Because her resistance wounds yourvanity. What resource is left us to hold you?

I agree with you, nevertheless, that when a passion is extinguished itcan not be relighted without difficulty. No one is more the master ofloving 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 thecause, I consider that you reject what is excellent and accept theworse; you renounce a solid happiness, durable pleasures, and yield todepraved tastes and pure caprices; but I can see that all myreflections will not reform you. I am beginning to fear that I amwearying you with morals, and to tell you the truth, it is veryridiculous in me to preach constancy when it is certain that you donot love, and that you are a heart fool. 

I therefore abandon you to your destiny, without, however, giving upmy 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 becomeweary and you would not be reformed. 

XLVIII

Friendship Must Be Firm

I do not conceal it, Marquis, your conduct in regard to the Countesshad put me out of patience with you, and I was tempted to break offall my relations with so wicked a man as you. My good nature inyielding to your entreaties inclines me to the belief that myfriendship for you borders on a weakness. You are right, though. To beyour friend only so long as you follow my advice would not be truefriendship. The more you are to be censured the stronger ought to bemy hold on you, but you will understand that one is not master of hisfirst thoughts. Whatever effort I may make to find you less guilty, the sympathy I have for the misfortune of my friend is of stillgreater importance to me. There were moments when I could not believein your innocence, and they were when so charming a woman complainedof you. Now that her situation is improving every day, I consider myharshness in my last letter almost as a crime. 

I shall, hereafter, content myself with pitying her withoutimportuning you any longer about her. So let us resume our ordinarygait, if it please you. You need no longer fear my reproaches, I seethey 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 getrid of a mistress than to acquire one? You are learning by experience. Your disgust for the moneyed woman does not surprise me except that itdid not happen sooner. 

What! knowing her character so well, you could imagine that thedespair she pretended at the sight of your indifference increasingevery day, could be the effect of a veritable passion? You could alsobe the dupe of her management! I admire, and I pity your blindness. 

But was it not also vanity which aided a trifle in fortifying yourillusion? In truth it would be a strange sort of vanity, that of beingloved by such a woman; but men are so vain, that they are flattered bythe love of the most confirmed courtesan. In any case undeceiveyourself. A woman who is deserted, when she is a woman like yourbeauty, has nothing in view in her sorrow but her own interest. Sheendeavors by her tears and her despair, to persuade you that yourperson and your merit are all she regrets; that the loss of your heartis the summit of misfortune; that she knows nobody who can indemnifyher for the loss of it. All these sentiments are false. It is not anafflicted lover who speaks; it is a vain woman, desperate at beinganticipated, exasperated at the lack of power in her charms, worryingover a plan to replace you promptly, anxious to give herself anappearance of sensibility, and to appear worthy of a better fate. Shejustifies this thought of Monsieur de la Rochefoucauld: "Women do notshed tears over the lovers they have had, so much because they lovedthem, as to appear more worthy of being loved. " It is for D---- toenjoy the sentiment. 

She must indeed, have a very singular idea of you to hope that she canimpose upon you. Do you wish to know what she is? The Chevalier isactually without an affair of the heart on hand, engage him to takeyour place. I have not received two letters from you that do not speakof the facility with which she will be consoled for having lost you. Awoman of her age begins to fear that she will not recover what she haslost, and so she is obliged to degrade her charms by taking the firstnew comer. Perhaps her sorrow is true, but she deceives you as to themotives she gives for it. Break these chains without scruple. Inpriding yourself on your constancy and delicacy for such an object, you appear to me to be as ridiculous as you were when you lacked thesame qualities on another occasion. 

Do you remember, Marquis, what Monsieur de Coulanges said to us oneday? "Constancy is the virtue of people of limited merit. Have theyprofited by the caprice of an amiable woman to establish themselves inher heart? the sentiment of medicrioty fixes them there, itintimidates them, they dare not make an effort to please others. Toohappy at having surprised her heart, they are afraid of abandoning agood which they may not find elsewhere, and, as an instant's attentionto their little worth might undeceive this woman, what do they thendo? They elevate constancy up among the virtues; they transform loveinto a superstition; they know how to interest reason in thepreservation of a heart which they owe only to caprice, occasion, orsurprise. " Be on your guard against imitating these shallowpersonages. Hearts are the money of gallantry; amiable people are theassets of society, whose destiny is to circulate in it and make manyhappy. A constant man is therefore as guilty as a miser who impedesthe circulation in commerce. He possesses a treasure which he does notutilize, 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 employto say there is love when it has ceased to exist? It is seldom thatpassion ceases in both parties at the same time, and then constancy isa veritable tyrant; I compare it to the tyrant of antiquity who putpeople to death by tying them to dead bodies. Constancy condemns us tothe same punishment. Discard such a baleful precedent to the libertyof association. 

Believe me, follow your tastes, for the court lady you mentioned; shemay weary you at times, it is true, but at least she will not degradeyou. 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 bevacant, and I do not doubt that another or even several othergallantries 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. Thenew system you have adopted makes it certain, nothing can be betterarranged. Never finish one affair without having commenced another;never withdraw from the first except in proportion as the second oneprogresses. Nothing can be better, but in spite of such wiseprecautions, you may find yourself destitute of any, as, for example, some event beyond the reach of human foresight may interfere withthese arrangements, may have for principle always to finish with allthe mistresses at once, before enabling you to find any one to keepyou busy during the interregnum. I feel free to confess, Marquis, thatsuch an arrangement is as prudent as can be imagined, and I do notdoubt 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 andfoolish letters. I find a secret charm in entertaining you, which Ishould suspect if I did not know my heart so well. I have beenreflecting that it is now without any affair, and I must henceforth beon my guard against you, for you have very often thought proper to sayvery tender things to me, and I might think proper to believe in theirsincerity. 

L

Some Women Are Very Cunning

You may derive as much amusement out of it as you wish, Marquis, but Ishall continue to tell you that you are not fascinated by Madame laPresidente. Believe me when I say that I see more clearly into youraffairs than you do yourself. I have known a hundred good men who, like you, pretended with the best faith in the world that they wereamorous, but who, in truth were not in any manner whatsoever. 

There are maladies of the heart as well as maladies of the body; someare real and some are imaginary. Not everything that attracts youtoward a woman is love. The habit of being together, the convenienceof seeing each other, to get away from one's self, the necessity for alittle gallantry, the desire to please, in a word, a thousand otherreasons which do not resemble a passion in the least; these are whatyou generally take to be love, and the women are the first to fortifythis error. Always flattered by the homage rendered them, providedtheir vanity profits by it, they rarely inquire into the motives towhich they owe it. But, after all, are they not right? They wouldnearly always lose by it. 

To all the motives of which I have just spoken, you can add stillanother, quite as capable of creating an illusion in the nature ofyour sentiments. Madame la Presidente is, without contradiction, themost beautiful woman of our time; she is newly married; she refusedthe homage of the most amiable man of our acquaintance. Perhapsnothing could be more flattering to your vanity than to make aconquest which would not fail to give you the kind of celebrity towhich you aspire. That, my dear Marquis, is what you call love, and itwill be difficult for you to disabuse yourself of the impression, forby force of persuading yourself that it is love, you will, in a shorttime firmly believe that the inclination is real. It will be a verysingular thing some day, to see with what dignity you will speak ofyour pretended sentiments; with what good faith you will believe thatthey deserve recognition, and, what will be still more agreeable, willbe the deference you will believe should be their due. Butunfortunately, the result will undeceive you, and you will then be thefirst to laugh at the importance with which you treated so silly anaffair. 

Shall I tell you how far injustice reaches? I am fully persuaded thatyou will not become more amorous. Henceforth, you will have nothingbut a passing taste, frivolous relations, engagements, caprices; allthe arrows of love will glance from you. It is true you will notexperience its pangs, but will you enjoy, in the least, its sweetness?Can you hope ever to recover from the fantasies to which you surrenderyourself, those moments of delight which were formerly your supremefelicity? I have no desire to flatter you, but I believe it my duty todo you this much justice: Your heart is intended for refinedpleasures. It is not I who hold you responsible for the dissipation inwhich you are plunged, it is the young fools around you. They callenjoyment the abuse they make of pleasure; their example carries youaway. But this intoxication will be dissipated sooner or later, andyou will soon, see, at least I hope so, that you have been deceived intwo ways in the state of your heart. You thought it was fascinated byMadame la Presidente, you will recognize your mistake; you thought shehad ceased to have an inclination for--but I hold to the words I haveuttered. Perhaps there will come a time when I shall be at liberty toexpress my thoughts more freely. Now, I reply to the remainder of yourletter. 

Confess it, Marquis, that you had little else to do this morning whenyou re-read my letters. I add that you must have been in a bad humorto undertake their criticism. Some brilliant engagement, someflattering rendezvous was wanting. But I do not care to elude thedifficulty. So I seem to contradict myself sometimes? If I were toadmit that it might very well be; if I were to give you the sameanswer that Monsieur de la Bruyère gave his critics the other day: "Itis not I who contradict myself, it is the heart upon which I reason, "could you reasonably conclude from it that everything I have said toyou is false? I do not believe it. 

But how do I know, in effect, if, led away by the various situationsin which you were placed, I may not have appeared to destroy what Ihad advanced on different occasions? How do I know, if, seeing youready to yield to a whim, I may not have carried too far, truths, which, feebly uttered, would not, perhaps, have brought you back? Howdo I know, in a word, if, being interested in the happiness of afriend, the desire to serve her may not have sometimes diminished mysincerity? I think I am very good natured to reply seriously to theworries you have caused me. Ought I not first to take cognizance ofthe fact that there is more malice in your letter than criticism? Thiswill be the last time you will have an opportunity to abuse mysimplicity. I am going to console myself for your perfidy with someone who is assuredly not so wicked as you. 

What a pity it is that you are not a woman! It would give me so muchpleasure to discuss the new coiffures with you! I never saw anythingso extravagant as their height. At least, Marquis, remember that ifMadame la Presidente does not wear one of them incessantly, you can nolonger 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 themaster of Madame la Presidente; a beloved rival has been sacrificedfor you and you triumph. 

How prompt your vanity is to make profit out of everything. I wouldlaugh heartily if your pretended triumph should end by your receivingnotice to quit some fine morning. For it may well be that thissacrifice of which you boast so much is nothing but a stratagem. 

Ever since you have been associated with women, have you notestablished as a principle that you must be on your guard against thesentiments they affect? If your beauty had accepted you merely for thepurpose of re-awakening a languishing love in the heart of herCeladon; if you were only the instrument of jealousy on the part ofone and artifice on the other, would that be a miracle?

You say that Madame la Presidente is not very shrewd, and consequentlyincapable of such a ruse. My dear Marquis, love is a great tutor, andthe most stupid women (in other respects) have often an acutediscernment, more accurate and more certain than any other, when itcomes to an affair of the heart. But let us leave this particularthesis, and examine men in general who are in the same situation asyou. 

They all believe as you do, that the sacrifice of a rival supposessome superiority over him. But how often does it happen that this samesacrifice is only a by play? If it is sincere, the woman either lovedthe rival or she did not. If she loved him, then as soon as she leaveshim, it is a sure proof that she loves him no longer, in which casewhat glory is there for you in such a preference? If she did not lovehim, what can you infer to your advantage from a pretended victoryover a man who was indifferent to her?

There is also another case where you may be preferred, without thatpreference being any more flattering. It is when the vanity of thewoman you attack is stronger than her inclination for the disgracedlover. Your rank, your figure, your reputation, your fortune, maydetermine her in your favor. It is very rare (I say it to the shame ofwomen, and men are no less ridiculous in that respect), it is rare, Irepeat, that a lover, who has nothing but noble sentiments to offer, can long hold his own against a man distinguished for his rank, or hisposition, who has servants, a livery, an equipage, etc. When the mosttender lover makes a woman blush for his appearance, when she dare notacknowledge him as her conqueror, when she does not even consider himas an object she can sacrifice with eclat, I predict that his reignwill be short. Her reasons for getting rid of him will be to her anembarrassment of choice. Thus the defunct of la Presidente was acounsellor of state, without doubt as dull and as stiff as his wig. What a figure to set up against a courtier, against a warrior likeyou?

Well, will you believe in my predictions another time? What did I tellyou? Did the Chevalier find it difficult to persuade your Penelope?This desolate woman, ready to break her heart, gave you a successor inless than fifteen days, loves him, proves it, and is flouted. Is thislosing 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 mycounsel that the Countess owes the tranquillity she begins to enjoy, and I can not conceive the chagrin which causes the indifference shemanifests for you. I am very far, however, from desiring to complainof you; your grief springs from a wounded vanity. 

Men are very unjust, they expect a woman always to consider them asobjects interesting to them, while they, in abandoning a woman, do notordinarily omit anything that will express their disdain. Of whatimportance to you is the hatred or love of a person whom you do notlove? Tell me that. Your jealousy of the little Duke is sounreasonable that I burst out laughing when I learned it. Is it notquite simple, altogether natural that a woman should console herselffor your loss, by listening to a man who knows the value of her heartbetter than you? By what right, if you please, do you venture to takeexceptions to it? You must admit that Madame de Sévigné was right: Youhave a foolish heart, my poor Marquis. 

In spite of all that, the part you wish me to play in the matterappears to me to be exceedingly agreeable. I can understand how niceit would be to aid you in your plan of vengeance against anunfaithful woman. Though it should be only through rancor or theoddity of the thing, we must love each other. But all such comediesturn out badly generally. Love is a traitor who scratches us when weplay with him. 

So, Marquis, keep your heart, I am very scrupulous about interferingwith so precious an association. Moreover, I am so disgusted with thestaleness of men, that henceforth I desire them only as friends. Thereis always a bone to pick with a lover. I am beginning to understandthe 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 needconsolation, and that my situation exacts the same succor because theMarquis de ---- has departed on his embassy. Undeceive yourself, myfriends suffice me, and, if you wish to remain among their number, atleast 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 talkingto me in such fashion. What demon inspired you with the idea of takingthe place of the absent? Could any one tease another as you did melast evening? I do not know how you began it, but however much Idesired to be angry with you, it was impossible for me to do so. I donot know how this will end. What is certain, however, is; it will beuseless for you to go on, for I have decided not to love you, and whatis worse, I shall never love you; yes, sir, never. 

Eh? truly, but this is a strange thing; to attempt to persuade a womanthat she is afflicted, that she needs consolation, when she assuresyou that it is not the fact, and that she wants for nothing. This isdriving things with a tight hand. I entreat you, reflect a little onthe 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 servedyou as a Mentor, who has played the role of mother to you, shouldaspire to that of lover? Unprincipled wretch that you are! If you sopromptly abandon a young and lovely woman, what would you do with anold girl like me? Perhaps you wish to attempt my conquest to seewhether love is for me the same in practice as in theory. Do not go tothe trouble of attempting such a seduction, I will satisfy yourcuriosity on that point immediately. 

You know that whatever we are, women seldom follow any givenprinciples. Well, that is what you would discover in any gallantassociation you aspire to form with me. All I have said about womenand love, has not given you any information as to my line of conducton such an occasion. There is a vast difference between feeling andthinking; between talking for one's own account and pleading the causeof another. You would, therefore, find in me many singularities thatmight strike you unfavorably. I do not feel as other women. You mightknow them all without knowing Ninon, and believe me, the novelties youwould discover would not compensate you for the trouble you might taketo please me. 

It is useless to exaggerate the value you put upon my conquest, that Itell you plainly; you are expending too much on hope, I am not able torespond. Remain where you are in a brilliant career. The court offersyou a thousand beautiful women, with whom you do not risk, as youwould with me, becoming weary of philosophy, of too much intelligence. 

I do not disguise the fact, however, that I would have been glad tosee you to-day. My head was split all the afternoon over a dispute onthe ancients and moderns. I am still out of humor on the subject, andfeel tempted to agree with you that I am not so far along on thedecline of life as to confine myself to science, and especially to thegentlemen of antiquity. 

If you could only restrain yourself and pay me fewer compliments it isnot to be doubted that I would prefer to have you come and enliven myserious occupations rather than any one else. But you are such anunmanageable man, so wicked, that I am afraid to invite you to comeand sup with me to-morrow. I am mistaken, for it is now two hoursafter midnight, and I recollect that my letter will not be handed youbefore noon. So it is to-day I shall expect you. Have you any fault tofind? It is a formal rendezvous, to be sure, but let the fearlessnessin appointing it be a proof that I am not very much afraid of you, andthat 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 ofthe Countess in your regard. However much I have been able to keep hersecret without betraying her friendship, and I have always done so, ifI conceal from you what I am going to communicate, you may one dayjustly reproach me. 

Whatever infidelities you may have been guilty of, whatever care Ihave been able to take to persuade her that you have been entirelyforgotten, she has never ceased to love you tenderly. Although she hassought to punish you by an assumed indifference, she has never thoughtof depriving herself of the pleasure of seeing you, and it has beenthrough the complaisance of the Countess that I have sometimes worriedyou; it was to goad you into visiting me more frequently. But allthese 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 beenopposed to. You will learn all about it by reading the letter shewrote 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 myresolution; you know it is not the inspiration of the moment. It isnot the fruit of a momentary mortification, an imprudent vexation, nordespair. I have never concealed it from you. The possession of theheart of the Marquis de Sévigné might have been my supreme felicity ifI could have flattered myself with having it forever. I was certain oflosing it if I had granted him the favors he exacted of me. Hisinconstancy has taught me that a different conduct would not be a suremeans of retaining a lover. I must renounce love forever, since menare incapable of having a liaison with a woman, as tender, but as pureas that of simple friendship. 

"You, yourself, well know that I am not sufficiently cured to see theMarquis without always suffering. Flight is the only remedy for mymalady, 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 havecautioned those who might be surprised. It is known that I have won ina considerable action against the heirs of my late husband. I havegiven out that I am going to take possession of the estate awarded me. I will thus deprive the public of the satisfaction of misinterpretingmy taste for solitude, and the Marquis of all suspicion that he is inany 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 toget rid of an evil so fatal to my repose? But it is done, and mydetermination can not be shaken. Pity me, however, and remember, mydear friend, the promise you gave me to make him understand that Ihave for him the most profound indifference. Whoever breaks offrelations with a lover in too public a manner, suggests resentment andregret at being forced to do so; it is an honest way of saying thatone would ask nothing better than to be appeased. As I have no desireto resume my relations with the Marquis, return him what I send, butin the manner agreed upon, and pray him to make a similar restitution. You may tell him that the management of my property obliges me toleave Paris for a time, but do not speak of me first. 

"I should be inconsolable at leaving you, my dear Ninon, if I did nothope that you would visit me in my solitude. You write willingly toyour friends, if you judge them by the tenderness and esteem they havefor 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 myretreat. You know my sentiments for you. "

I have no advice to give you, Marquis, on what you have just read, thesole favor I expect from you is never to compromise me for theindiscretion I commit, and that the Countess shall never have anyreason for not forgiving me. All I can say to justify myself in my owneyes is, that you have loved the Countess too much for her resolutionto be a matter of absolute indifference to you. Had I been just, Iwould 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. Donot doubt it, your behavior, my entreaties, and better than all, lovewill overcome the resistance of the Countess. Everything shouldconspire to determine her to accept the offer you have made of yourhand. I could even, from this time on, assure you that pride alonewill resist our efforts and her own inclination. 

This morning I pressed her earnestly to decide in your favor. Her lastentrenchment was the fear of new infidelities on your part. 

"Reassure yourself, " said I, "in proof that the Marquis will befaithful to you, is the fact that he has been undeceived about theother women, by comparing them with her he was leaving. Honest peoplepermit themselves only a certain number of caprices, and the Marquishas had those which his age and position in society seemed to justify. He yielded to them at a time when they were pardonable. He paidtribute to the fashion by tasting of all the ridiculous things going. Henceforth, he can be reasonable with impunity. A man can not beexpected to be amorous of his wife, but should he be, it will bepardoned him as soon as people see you. You risk nothing, therefore, Countess; you yourself have put on the airs of a society woman, butyou were too sensible not to abandon such a role; you renounced it;the Marquis imitates you. Wherefore forget his mistakes. Could youbear the reproach of having caused the death of so amiable a man? Itwould 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 resistancewhich she, herself, already deems very embarrassing. 

Well, Marquis, if the anxiety all this has caused you, gives you thetime 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 muchof it as might amuse you. You were to be nothing but a gallant, andhave no relations with women except those in which you could easilybreak the ties. I then spoke to you in a general way, and relative toordinary women. Could I imagine that you would be so fortunate as tomeet a woman like the Countess, who would unite the charms of her sexto the qualities of honest men? What must be your felicity? You aregoing to possess in one and the same person, the most estimable friendand a most charming mistress. Deign to admit me to share a thirdportion of your friendship and my happiness will equal your own. Canone be happier than in sharing the happiness of friends?

CORRESPONDENCE

BETWEEN

LORD SAINT-EVREMOND

AND

NINON DE L'ENCLOS

WHEN OVER EIGHTY YEARSOF AGE

INTRODUCTION

Charles de Saint Denis, Lord of Saint-Evremond, Marshal of France, wasone of the few distinguished Frenchmen, exiled by Louis XIV, whosedistinguished abilities as a warrior and philosopher awarded him alast resting place in Westminster Abbey. His tomb, surmounted by amarble bust, is situated in the nave near the cloister, located amongthose of Barrow, Chaucer, Spenser, Cowley and other renownedEnglishmen. 

His epitaph, written by the hand of a Briton, is singularly repletewith the most eminent qualities, which the great men of his periodrecognized in him, though his life was extraordinarily long andstormy. He was moreover, a profound admirer of Ninon de l'Enclosduring his long career, and he did much toward shaping her philosophy, and enabling her to understand the human heart in all itseccentricities, and how to regulate properly the passion of love. 

During his long exile in England, the two corresponded at times, andthe letters here given are the fragments of a voluminouscorrespondence, the greater part of which has been lost. They are tobe found in the untranslated collated works of Saint-Evremond, and arevery curious, inasmuch as they were written when Ninon andSaint-Evremond were in their "eighties. "

Saint-Evremond always claimed, that his extremely long and vigorouslife was due to the same causes which Ninon de l'Enclos attributed toher great age, that is, to an unflagging zeal in observing thedoctrines of the Epicurean philosophy. These ideas appear in hisletter to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, written to her under the sobriquetof "Leontium, " and which is translated and appended to thiscorrespondence. 

As an evidence of Saint-Evremond's unimpaired faculties at a greatage, the charms of his person attracted the attention of the Duchessof Sandwich, one of the beauties of the English Court, and she becameso enamored of him, that a liaison was the result, which lasted untilthe time of Saint-Evremond's death. They were like two young loversjust beginning their career, instead of a youth over eighty years ofage, and a maiden who had passed forty. Such attachments were notuncommon among persons who lived calm, philosophical lives, their verymanner of living inspiring tender regard, as was the case of the greataffection of the Marquis de Sévigné, who although quite young, and hisrank an attraction to the great beauties of the Court, neverthelessaspired to capture the heart of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, who was oversixty years of age. What Ninon thought about the matter, appears inher letters on the preceding pages. 

Correspondence Between Lord Saint-Evremondand Ninon de L'EnclosWhen Over Eighty Yearsof 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 fromeverybody, but nobody can give me any. M. De la Bastille tells me thatyou are in good health, but adds, that if you have no more lovers, youare satisfied to have a greater number of friends. 

The falsity of the latter piece of news casts a doubt upon the verityof 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 believedit, 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 ofvoid, 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 ofaffection for your old friend. 

The news here is that the Count de Grammont is dead, and it fills mewith acute sorrow. 

If you know Barbin, ask him why he prints so many things that are notmine, over my name? I have been guilty of enough folly withoutassuming the burden of others. They have made me the author of adiatribe against Père Bouhours, which I never even imagined. There isno writer whom I hold in higher esteem. Our language owes more to himthan to any other author. 

God grant that the rumor of Count de Grammont's death be false, andthat of your health true. The Gazette de Hollande says the Count deLauzun is to be married. If this were true he would have been summonedto Paris, besides, de Lauzun is a Duke, and the name "Count" does notfit him. 

Adieu. I am the truest of your servants, who would gain much if youhad no more lovers, for I would be the first of your friends despitean 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 quicklymy ennui disappeared--it left me in a moment. 

I have been speaking of you quite recently, and have learned manythings which do not appear in your letters--about your perfect healthand your occupation. The joy in my mind indicates its strength, andyour letter assures me that England promises you forty years more oflife, for I believe that it is only in England that they speak of menwho have passed the fixed period of human life. I had hoped to passthe rest of my days with you, and if you had possessed the samedesire, 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 bodilyseparation has occurred. 

I could have wished that the young ecclesiastic had found me in themidst of the glories of Nike, which could not change me, although youseem to think that I am more tenderly enchanted with him thanphilosophy permits. 

Madame the Duchess de Bouillon is like an eighteen-year old: thesource 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 herChevalier. Your letter was accorded the reception it deserved, and thesorrowful figure in it did not diminish the merit of its sentiments. Iam very much affected by their strength and perseverance. Nurse themto 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 surfacevirtues do not sadden you, I try to use them in the same way. You havea friend, a provincial Governor, who owes his fortune to hisamiability. 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 seehim father of a family, rich and happy. He has told more jokes abouthis new dignity than others think. 

M. D'Ebène who gave you the name of "Curictator, " has just died at thehospital. How trivial are the judgments of men! If M. D'Olonne werealive and could have read your letters to me, he would have continuedto be of your quality with his philosophy. M. De Lauzun is myneighbor, and will accept your compliments. I send you very tenderly, those of M. De Charleval, and ask you to remember M. De Ruvigny, hisfriend 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 AbbéDubois, but as he was at Versailles, I fear it has not reached him. 

I should have been anxious about your health without the visit ofMadame de Bouillon's little librarian, who filled my heart with joy byshowing me a letter from one who thinks of me on your account. Whatever reason I may have had during my illness to praise the worldand my friends, I never felt so lively a joy as at this mark ofkindness. You may act upon this as you feel inclined since it was youwho drew it upon me. 

I pray you to let me know, yourself, whether you have grasped thathappiness one enjoys so much at certain times? The source will neverrun dry so long as you shall possess the friendship of the amiablefriend who invigorates your life. (Lady Sandwich. ) How I envy thosewho go to England, and how I long to dine with you once again! What agross desire, that of dinner!

The spirit has great advantages over the body, though the bodysupplies many little repeated pleasures, which solace the soul in itssorrowful moods. You have often laughed at my mournful reflections, but I have banished them all. It is useless to harbor them in thelatter days of one's life, and one must be satisfied with the life ofevery 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 isexcellent moralizing. Take good care of your health, it is to thateverything 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 amtrying to console myself by thinking of the share you will take in myaffliction. Up to the time of his death, I saw him every day. Hisspirit possessed all the charms of youth, and his heart all thegoodness and tenderness so desirable among true friends. We oftenspoke of you and of all the old friends of our time. His life and theone I am leading now, had much in common, indeed, a similar loss islike dying one's self. 

Tell me the news about yourself. I am as much interested in your lifein London as if you were here, and old friends possess charms whichare 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 yourthoughts constantly. I am worthy of it on account of the affection Imaintain for you. We shall certainly deserve the encomiums ofposterity by the duration of our lives, and by that of yourfriendship. I believe I shall live as long as you, although I amsometimes weary of always doing the same things, and I envy the Swisswho casts himself into the river for that reason. My friends oftenreprehend me for such a sentiment, and assure me that life is worthliving as long as one lives in peace and tranquillity with a healthymind. However, the forces of the body lead to other thoughts, andthose forces are preferred to strength of mind, but everything isuseless when a change is impossible. It is equally as worth while todrive away sad reflections as to indulge in useless ones. 

Madame Sandwich has given me a thousand pleasures in making me sohappy as to please her. I did not dream, in my declining years to beagreeable to a woman of her age. She has more spirit than all thewomen of France, and more true merit. She is on the point of leavingus, which is regretted by every one who knows her, by myself, particularly. Had you been here we should have prepared a banquetworthy of old times. Love me always. 

Madame de Coulanges accepted the commission to present your kindcompliments to M. Le Comte de Grammont, through Madame de Grammont. Heis so young that I believe him fickle enough in time to dislike theinfirm, and that he will love them as soon as they return to goodhealth. 

Every one who returns from England speaks of the beauty of Madame laDuchesse de Mazarin, as they allude to the beauty of Mademoiselle deBellefond, whose sun is rising. You have attached me to Madame deMazarin, 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 withoutagain 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. Isympathize with you with all my heart. You have just lost an amiablecompanion who has been your mainstay in a foreign land. What can bedone to make good such a misfortune? Those who live long are subjectto see their friends die, after that, your philosophy, your mind, willserve to sustain you. 

I feel this death as much as if I had been acquainted with theDuchess. She thought of me in her last moments, and her goodnessaffected me more than I can express; what she was to you drew me toher. There is no longer a remedy, and there is none for whatever mayhappen our poor bodies, so preserve yours. Your friends love to seeyou so well and so wise, for I hold those to be wise who know how tobe happy. 

I give you a thousand thanks for the tea you sent me, but the livelytone of your letter pleased me as much as your present. 

You will again see Madame Sandwich, whom we saw depart with regret. Icould wish that her condition in life might serve to be of someconsolation to you. I am ignorant of English customs, but she wasquite French while here. 

A thousand adieux, my friend. If one could think as did Madame deChevreuse, who believed when dying that she was going to converse withall 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 livedin the same manner until the end. Do not permit M. De laRochefoucauld's "hell" to frighten you; it was a devised hell hedesired 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 evento imagine a decline of life in you. What ingratitude to be ashamed tomention love, to which we owe all our merit, all our pleasures! For, my lovely keeper of the casket, the reputation of your probity isestablished 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; thereis nothing better than what regards your friends, nothing moreunsatisfactory 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 NatureA formé l'âme de NinonDe la volupté d'EpicureEt 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 meas much good news about your stomach as about your mind. There aretimes 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 enjoymentof the one than of the other. I have always believed that your mindwould last as long as yourself, but we are not so sure of the healthof 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 desireto see honest people in the different countries of the world, inducedhim to surreptitiously abandon an opulent home. Perhaps you willcensure his curiosity, but the thing is done. He knows many things, but he is ignorant of others, which one of his age should ignore. Ideemed him worthy of paying you a visit, to make him begin to feelthat he has not lost his time by journeying to England. Treat him wellfor love of me. 

I begged his elder brother, who is my particular friend, to obtainnews of Madame la Duchesse Mazarin and of Madame Harvey, both of whomwished 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, werevery much surprised to discover after their marriage, that the greatpassion they felt for each other before marriage, became feebler everyday, and that even their affection was growing colder. It troubledthem, and in their anxiety, they consulted Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, begging her to find some reason in her philosophy, why the possessionof the object loved should weaken the strength of ante-nuptialpassion, and even destroy the most ardent affection. 

The question was discussed by Ninon and her "Birds" for several dayswithout reaching an opinion that was in any manner satisfactory. Itwas therefore resolved to consult Saint-Evremond, who was living inexile in England. After writing him all the particulars, and thediscussions that had been held with opinions pro and con, he sent thefollowing letter in reply, which is unanswerable upon the subject. Moreover, it contains lessons that should be carefully studied andwell learned by all loving hearts, who desire to maintain their earlyaffection for each other during life. 

The letter is a masterpiece of the philosophy of love, and it isremarkable, in that it develops traits in human nature upon thesubject of love and marriage, which are overlooked in questionsapplicable to the relations between the sexes, and that are so oftenstrained to the breaking point. Indeed, it gives clues to a remedywhich can not fail to effect a cure. 

 * * * * *

My opinion is exactly in line with yours, Mademoiselle; it is notalways, as some think, hymen or the possession of the loved objectwhich of itself destroys love; the true source of the dissatisfactionthat follows exists in the unintelligent manner of economizing thesentiments, 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 aprofound solitude. The heart finds itself in a void which alarms andchills it. We vainly seek outside of ourselves, the cause of the calmwhich follows our fits of passion; we do not perceive that an equaland more enduring happiness would have been the fruit of moderation. Make an exact analysis of what takes place within you when you desireanything. 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 spouseor a lover should leave him something to be desired; something newshould be expected every day for the morrow. Diversify his pleasures, procure for him the charm of variety in the same object, and I willvouch for his perseverance in fidelity. 

I confess, however, that hymen, or what you call your "defeat, " is, inan ordinary woman, the grave of love. But then it is less upon thelover that the blame falls, than upon her who complains of the coolingof the passion; she casts upon the depravity of the heart what is dueto her own unskillfulness, and her lack of economy. She has expendedin a single day everything that might keep alive the inclination shehad excited. She has nothing more to offer to the curiosity of herlover, 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 byeffusions of the heart, those mutual confidences; those ingenuities, those unexpected avowals, and those transports which excite in us thecertainty of creating an absolute happiness, and meriting all theesteem of the person we love. That day is, in a word, the epoch whena man of refinement discovers inexhaustible treasures which havealways been hidden from him; the freedom a woman acquires brings intoplay all the sentiments which constraint has held in reserve; herheart takes a lofty flight, but one well under control. Time, far fromleading to loathing, will furnish new reasons for a greater love. 

But, to repeat; I assume sufficient intelligence in her to be able tocontrol her inclination. For to hold a lover, it is not enough(perhaps it is too much) to love passionately, she must love withprudence, with restraint, and modesty is, for that reason, the mostingenious virtue refined persons have ever imagined. To yield to theimpetuosity of an inclination; to be annihilated, so to speak, in theobject loved, is the method of a woman without discernment. That isnot love, it is a liking for a moment, it is to transform a lover intoa spoiled child. I would have a woman behave with more reserve andeconomy. An excess of ardor is not justifiable in my opinion, theheart being always an impetuous charger which must be steadily curbed. If you do not use your strength with economy, your vivacity will benothing but a passing transport. The same indifference you perceive ina lover, after those convulsive emotions, you, yourself, willexperience, and soon, both of you will feel the necessity ofseparating. 

To sum up: There is more intelligence required to love than isgenerally supposed, and to be happy in loving. Up to the moment of thefatal "yes" or if you prefer, up to the time of her defeat, a womandoes not need artifice to hold her lover. Curiosity excites him, desire sustains him, hope encourages him. But once he reaches thesummit of his desires, it is for the woman to take as much care toretain him, as he exhibited to overcome her; the desire to keep himshould render her fertile in expedients; the heart is similar to ahigh position, easier to obtain than to keep. Charms are sufficientto make a man amorous; to render him constant, something more isnecessary; skill is required, a little management, a great deal ofintelligence, and even a touch of ill humor and inequality. Unfortunately, however, as soon as women have yielded they become tootender, too complaisant. It would be better for the common good ifthey were to resist less in the beginning and more afterward. Imaintain that they never can forestall loathing without leaving theheart something to wish for, and the time to consider. 

I hear them continually complaining that our indifference is alwaysthe fruit of their complaisance for us. They are ever recalling thetime when, goaded by love and sentiment, we spent whole days by theirside. How blind they are! They do not perceive that it is still intheir power to bring us back to an allegiance, the memory of which isso dear. If they forget what they have already done for us, they willnot be tempted to do more; but if they make us forget, then we shallbecome more exacting. Let them awaken our hearts by opposing newdifficulties, arouse our anxieties, in fine, force us to desire newproofs of an inclination, the certainty of which diminishes the valuein 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 wouldremember at the right time, that their role is always that of theparty to be entreated, ours that of him who begs for new favors;that, created to grant, they should never offer. Reserved, even in anexcess of passion, they should guard against surrendering atdiscretion; the lover should always have something to ask, andconsequently, he would be always submissive so as to obtain it. Favorswithout limit degrade the most seductive charms, and are, in the end, revolting even to him who exacts them. Society puts all women on thesame level; the handsome and the ugly, after their defeat areindistinguishable except from their art to maintain their authority;but what commonly happens? A woman imagines she has nothing more to dothan to be affectionate, caressing, sweet, of even temper, andfaithful. She is right in one sense, for these qualities should be thefoundation of her character; they will not fail to draw esteem; butthese qualities, however estimable they may be, if they are not offsetby a shade of contrariety, will not fail to extinguish love, and bringon languor and weariness, mortal poisons for the best constitutedheart. 

Do you know why lovers become nauseated so easily when enjoyingprosperity? Why they are so little pleased after having had so muchpleasure? It is because both parties interested have an identicallyerroneous opinion. One imagines there is nothing more to obtain, theother fancies she has nothing more to give. It follows as a necessaryconsequence that one slackens in his pursuit, and the other neglectsto be worthy of further advances, or thinks she becomes so by thepractice of solid qualities. Reason is substituted for love, andhence-forward no more spicy seasoning in their relations, no more ofthose trifling quarrels so necessary to prevent dissatisfaction byforestalling it. 

But when I exact that evenness of temper should be animated byoccasional storms, do not be under the impression that I pretendlovers should always be quarreling to preserve their happiness. I onlydesire to impress it upon you, that all their misunderstandings shouldemanate from love itself; that the woman should not forget (by aspecies of pusillanimous kindness) the respect and attentions due her;that by an excessive sensitiveness she does not convert her love intoa source of anxiety capable of poisoning every moment of herexistence; that by a scrupulous fidelity she may not render her lovertoo sure that he has nothing to fear on that score. 

Neither should a woman by a sweetness, an unalterable evenness oftemper, be weak enough to pardon everything lacking in her lover. Experience demonstrates that women too often sacrifice the hearts oftheir spouses or their lovers, by too many indulgences and facilities. What recklessness! They martyrize themselves by sacrificingeverything; they spoil them and convert them into ungrateful lovers. So much generosity finally turns against themselves, and they soonbecome accustomed to demand as a right what is granted them as afavor. 

You see women every day (even among those we despise with so muchreason) who reign with a scepter of iron, treat as slaves men who areattached to them, debase them by force of controlling them. Well, these are the women who are loved longer than the others. I ampersuaded that a woman of refinement, well brought up, would neverthink of following such an example. That military manner is repugnantto gentleness and morals, and lacks that decency which constitutes thecharm in things even remote from virtue. But let the reasonable womansoften the clouds a trifle, there will always remain precisely what isnecessary to hold a lover. 

We are slaves, whom too much kindness often renders insolent; we oftendemand to be treated like those of the new world. But we have in thebottom of our hearts a comprehension of justice, which tells us thatthe 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 energyof love, women should be the sovereigns; it is from them we hope forhappiness, and they will never fail to grant us that as soon as theycan govern our hearts with intelligence, moderate their owninclinations, and maintain their own authority, without compromisingit 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 havespoiled any one but me. I know your lively and astonishingimagination, and I have even wanted to remember that Lucian wrote inpraise of the fly, to accustom myself to your style. Would to Heavenyou could think of me what you write, I should dispense with the restof the world; so it is with you that glory dwells. 

Your last letter is a masterpiece. It has been the subject of all thetalks we have had in my chamber for the past month. You arerejuvenating; you do well to love. Philosophy agrees well withspiritual charms. It is not enough to be wise, one must please, and Iperceive 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. Icould wish with you, that Madame Mazarin had looked upon life from herown viewpoint, without thinking of her beauty, which would always havebeen agreeable when common sense held the place of less brilliancy. Madame Sandwich will preserve her mental force after losing heryouth, at least I think so. 

Adieu, my friend. When you see Madame Sandwich, remember me to her, Ishould 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 andexpanding like flowers; fit to please, and able to sincerely affect anold heart like mine. As there has always been a strong similaritybetween your tastes, your inclinations, your sentiments, and mine, Ithink you will be pleased to receive a young Chevalier who isattractive to all our ladies. He is the Duke of Saint Albans, whom Ihave begged to pay you a visit, as much in his own interests as inyours. 

Is there any one of your friends like de Tallard, imbued with thespirit 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 isprosperous in his affairs; if his health is poor I shall be verysorry. 

Doctor Morelli, my particular friend, accompanies the Countess ofSandwich, 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 andspirituelle, and as amiable as she is generous and spirituelle. Theseare a portion of her qualities. But, I have more to say about thephysician than about the invalid. 

Seven cities, as you know, dispute among themselves, the birth placeof 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 nopretensions. He is acquainted with every language and speaks the mostof them. His style, elevated, grand and figurative, leads me tobelieve that he is of Oriental origin, and that he has absorbed whathe found good among the Europeans. He is passionately fond of music, wild over poetry, inquisitive about paintings, a connoisseur ineverything--I cannot remember all. He has friends who knowarchitecture, and though skilled in his own profession, he is an adeptin others. 

I pray you to give him opportunities to become acquainted with allyour illustrious friends. If you make him yours, I shall consider himfortunate, for you will never be able to make him acquainted withanybody possessing more merit than yourself. 

It seems to me that Epicurus included in his sovereign good theremembrance of past things. There is no sovereign good for acentenarian like me, but there are many consolations, that of thinkingof 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 thinkthat I may weary you. It is enough if they please me, it isimpossible at my age, to hope they will please others. My meritconsists 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 lodgedwith one of the relatives of M. De L'Hermitage, a very honest man, andan exile to England on account of his religion. I am very sorry thatthe Catholic conscience of France could not suffer him to live inParis, and that the delicacy of his own compelled him to abandon hiscountry. 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 ayoung man gives me pleasure? Your senses deceive you when it comes toothers. I have forgotten all but my friends. If the name "doctor" hadnot reassured me, I should have replied by the Abbé de Hautefeuille, and your English would never have heard of me. They would have beentold at my door that I was not at home, and I would have received yourletter, which gave me more pleasure than anything else. 

What a fancy to want good wine, and how unfortunate that I can not sayI was successful in getting it! M. De L'Hermitage will tell you aswell as I, that de Gourville never leaves his room, is indifferent totaste of any kind, is always a good friend, but his friends do nottrespass 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 canuse my knowledge of wine to procure you some, do not doubt that I willavail myself of it. 

M. De Tallard was one of my former friends, but state affairs placegreat men above trifles. I am told that the Abbé Dubois will go toEngland with him. He is a slim little man who, I am sure, will pleaseyou. 

I have twenty letters of yours, and they are read with admiration byour little circle, which is proof that good taste still exists inFrance. I am charmed with a country where you do not fear ennui, andyou will be wise if you think of nobody but yourself, not that theprinciple 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 asyour last one. You eulogize the stomach so highly, that it would beshameful to possess an intelligent mind without also having a goodstomach. I am indebted to the Abbé Dubois for having sounded mypraises to you in this respect. 

At eighty-eight years of age, I can eat oysters every morning forbreakfast. I dine well and sup fairly well. The world makes heroes ofmen 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 mériteSur 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 lessIn 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 wasless 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 Ihave 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 notknow whether you are right in placing so high an estimate upon it. Weread little that is worth remembering, and we hear little advice thatis worth following. However degenerate may be the senses of the age atwhich I am living, the impressions which agreeable objects make uponthem appear to me to be so much more acute, that we are wrong tomortify them. Perhaps it is a jealousy of the mind which deems thepart played by the senses better than its own. 

M. Bernier, the handsomest philosopher I have ever known (handsomephilosopher 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 laSablière, even to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whom I regard as asuperior being. I tell you in confidence, that abstinence frompleasures appears to me to be a great sin. "

I was surprised at the novelty of the idea, and it did not fail tomake an impression upon my mind. Had he extended his idea, he mighthave made me a convert to his doctrine. 

Continue your friendship which has never faltered, and which issomething 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 andthat your common sense is always leading you upward to better things. The body, in fact, is little worthy of regard, and the soul has alwayssome light which sustains it, and renders it sensible of the memory ofa friend whose absence has not effaced his image. 

I often tell the old stories in which d'Elbène, de Charleval, and theChevalier de Riviere cheer up the "moderns. " You are brought in at themost interesting points, but as you are also a modern, I am on myguard against praising you too highly in the presence of theAcademicians, who have declared in favor of the "ancients. "

I have been told of a musical prologue, which I would very much liketo hear at the Paris theater. The "Beauty" who is its subject wouldstrike with envy every woman who should hear it. All our Helens haveno right to find a Homer, and always be goddesses of beauty. Here I amat the top, how am I to descend?

My very dear friend, would it not be well to permit the heart tospeak its own language? I assure you, I love you always. Do not changeyour ideas on that point, they have always been in my favor, and maythis mental communication, which some philosophers believe to besupernatural, last forever. 

I have testified to M. Turretin, the joy I should feel to be of someservice to him. He found me among my friends, many of whom deemed himworthy of the praise you have given him. If he desires to profit bywhat is left of our honest Abbés in the absence of the court, he willbe treated like a man you esteem. I read him your letter withspectacles, of course, but they did me no harm, for I preserved mygravity all the time. If he is amorous of that merit which is calledhere "distinguished, " perhaps your wish will be accomplished, forevery day, I meet with this fine phrase as a consolation for mylosses. 

I know that you would like to see La Fontaine in England, he is solittle regarded in Paris, his head is so feeble. 'Tis the destiny ofpoets, of which Tasso and Lucretius are evidence. I doubt whetherthere is any love philter that could affect La Fontaine, he has neverbeen 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 israther old, but good things are always acceptable, however late theymay be in reaching us. You are serious, therefore, you please. You adda charm to Seneca, who does not usually possess any. You call yourselfold when you possess all the graces, inclinations, and spirit ofyouth. 

I am troubled with a curiosity which you can satisfy: When youremember your past, does not the memory of your youth suggest certainideas as far removed from languor and sloth as from the excitement ofpassion? Do you not feel in your soul a secret opposition to thetranquillity which you fancy your spirit has acquired?

Mais aimer et vous voir aiméeEst une douce liaison, Que dans notre coeur s'est forméeDe concert avec la raison. D'une amoureuse sympathie, Il faut pour arrêter le coursArrêter celui de nos jours;Sa fin est celle de la vie. Puissent les destins complaisants, Vous donner encore trente ansD'amour et de philosophie. 

(To love and be lovedIs a concert sweet, Which in your heart is formedCemented 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 giveYou thirty years to live, With wisdom and love in accord. )

I wish you a happy New Year, a day on which those who have nothingelse 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 myselfincapable. "The days are passing, " as said the good man of Yveteaux, "in ignorance and sloth; these days destroy us and take from us thethings 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 tomake any more, and to forget on the morrow the things I live throughtoday. Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of at one timethan at another. Be that as it may, had I been proposed such a life Ishould have hanged myself. We hold on to an ugly body, however, assomething agreeable; we love to feel comfort and ease. Appetite issomething I still enjoy. Would to Heaven I could try my stomach withyours, and talk of the old friends we have known, the memory of whomgives 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, thereis no comparison. 

M. De Clerambault often asks me if he resembles his father in mentalattainments. "No, " I always answer him, but I hope from hispresumption that he believes this "no" to be of advantage to him, andperhaps there are some who would have so considered it. What acomparison between the present epoch and that through which we havepassed!

You are going to write Madame Sandwich, but I believe she has gone tothe country. She knows all about your sentiment for her. She will tellyou more news about this country than I, having gauged andcomprehended everything. She knows all my haunts and has found meansof 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 alwaysseems to me to be better than the preceding ones. It is not becausethe sentiment of present pleasure dims the memory of the past, but thetrue reason is, your mind is becoming stronger and more fortifiedevery day. 

If it were the same with the body as with the mind, I should badlysustain this stomach combat of which you speak. I wanted to make atrial of mine against that of Madame Sandwich, at a banquet given byLord Jersey. I was not the vanquished. 

Everybody knows the spirit of Madame Sandwich; I see her good taste inthe extraordinary esteem she has for you. I was not overcome by thepraises she showered upon you, any more than I was by my appetite. Youbelong to every nation, esteemed alike in London as in Paris. Youbelong to every age of the world, and when I say that you are an honorto mine, youth will immediately name you to give luster to theirs. There you are, mistress of the present and of the past. May you haveyour share of the right to be so considered in the future! I have notreputation in view, for that is assured to all time, the one thing Iregard as the most essential is life, of which eight days are worthmore 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 theliveliest emotions. 

L'esprit vous satisfait, ou du moins vous console:Mais on préférerait de vivre jeune et folle, Et laisser aux vieillards exempts de passionsLa 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 bymemory, I am following your example, and fit in with the present aswell as I know how. 

Would to Heaven, Madame Mazarin had been of your opinion! She wouldstill be living, but she desired to die the beauty of the world. 

Madame Sandwich is leaving for the country, and departs admired inLondon 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 iswith Madame la Duchesse de Bouillon. I sometimes meet the friends ofM. L'Abbé Dubois, who complain that they are forgotten. Assure him ofmy humble regards. 

Translator's Note--The above was the last letter Saint-Evremond everwrote Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, and with the exception of one moreletter to his friend, Count Magalotti, Councillor of State to HisRoyal Highness the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he never wrote any other, dying shortly afterward at the age of about ninety. His last letterends 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 tomodern times, it is an elucidation of the principles advocated by thatphilosopher, by Charles de Saint-Evremond, Maréchal of France, a greatphilosopher, scholar, poet, warrior, and profound admirer ofMademoiselle de l'Enclos. He died in exile in England, and his tombmay be found in Westminster Abbey, in a conspicuous part of the nave, where his remains were deposited by Englishmen, who regarded him asillustrious for his virtues, learning and philosophy. 

He gave the name "Leontium" to Mademoiselle de L'Enclos, and theletter was written to her under that sobriquet. The reasoning in itwill enable the reader to understand the life and character of Ninon, inasmuch as it was the foundation of her education, and formed hercharacter during an extraordinarily long career. It was intended tobring down to its date, the true philosophical principles of Epicurus, who appears to have been grossly misunderstood and his doctrinesfoully misinterpreted. 

Leontium was an Athenian woman who became celebrated for her taste forphilosophy, particularly for that of Epicurus, and for her closeintimacy with the great men of Athens. She lived during the thirdcentury before the Christian era, and her mode of life was similar tothat of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. She added to great personal beauty, intellectual brilliancy of the highest degree, and dared to write, alearned treatise against the eloquent Theophrastus, thereby incurringthe dislike of Cicero, the distinguished orator, and Pliny, thephilosopher, the latter intimating that it might be well for her "toselect a tree upon which to hang herself. " Pliny and otherphilosophers heaped abuse upon her for daring, as a woman, to do suchan unheard of thing as to write a treatise on philosophy, andparticularly for having the assurance to contradict Theophrastus. 

The Letter. 

You wish to know whether I have fully considered the doctrines ofEpicurus which are attributed to me?

I can claim the honor of having done so, but I do not care to claim amerit I do not possess, and which you will say, ingenuously, does notbelong to me. I labor under a great disadvantage on account of thenumerous spurious treatises which are printed in my name, as though Iwere the author of them. Some, though well written, I do not claim, because they are not of my writing, moreover, among the things I havewritten, there are many stupidities. I do not care to take the troubleof repudiating such things, for the reason that at my age, one hour ofwell regulated life, is of more interest and benefit to me than amediocre reputation. How difficult it is, you see, to rid one's selfof amour propre! I quit it as an author, and reassume it as aphilosopher, feeling a secret pleasure in manipulating what others areanxious about. 

The word "pleasure" recalls to mind the name of Epicurus, and Iconfess, that of all the opinions of the philosophers concerning thesupreme good, there are none which appear to me to be so reasonable ashis. 

It would be useless to urge reasons, a hundred times repeated by theEpicureans, that the love of pleasure and the extinction of pain, arethe first and most natural inclinations remarked in all men; thatriches, power, honor, and virtue, contribute to our happiness, butthat the enjoyment of pleasure, let us say, voluptuousness, to includeeverything in a word, is the veritable aim and end whither tend allhuman acts. This is very clear to me, in fact, self-evident, and I amfully persuaded of its truth. 

However, I do not know very well in what the pleasure, orvoluptuousness of Epicurus consisted, for I never saw so manydifferent opinions of any one as those of the morals of thisphilosopher. Philosophers, and even his own disciples, have condemnedhim as sensual and indolent; magistrates have regarded his doctrinesas pernicious to the public; Cicero, so just and so wise in hisopinions, Plutarch, so much esteemed for his fair judgments, were notfavorable to him, and so far as Christianity is concerned, the Fathershave represented him to be the greatest and the most dangerous of allimpious men. So much for his enemies; now for his partisans:

Metrodorus, Hermachus, Meneceus, and numerous others, whophilosophize according to his school, have as much veneration asfriendship for him personally. Diogenes Laertes could not have writtenhis 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 thehighest terms. If some cities held him in horror, others erectedstatues in his honor, and if, among the Christians, the Fathers havecondemned him, Gassendi and Bernier approve his principles. 

In view of all these contrary authorities, how can the question bedecided? Shall I say that Epicurus was a corruptor of good morals, onthe faith of a jealous philosopher, of a disgruntled disciple, whowould have been delighted, in his resentment, to go to the length ofinflicting a personal injury? Moreover, had Epicurus intended todestroy the idea of Providence and the immortality of the soul, is itnot reasonable to suppose that the world would have revolted againstso scandalous a doctrine, and that the life of the philosopher wouldhave been attacked to discredit his opinions more easily?

If, therefore, I find it difficult to believe what his enemies and theenvious have published against him, I should also easily credit whathis partisans have urged in his defence. 

I do not believe that Epicurus desired to broach a voluptuousnessharsher than the virtue of the Stoics. Such a jealousy of austeritywould appear to me extraordinary in a voluptuary philosopher, fromwhatever point of view that word may be considered. A fine secretthat, 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; thatof the Epicureans, an immovable voluptuary. The former suffers painwithout having any pain; the latter enjoys voluptuousness withoutbeing voluptuous--a pleasure without pleasure. With what object inview, could a philosopher who denied the immortality of the soul, mortify the senses? Why divorce the two parties composed of the sameelements, whose sole advantage is in a concert of union for theirmutual pleasure? I pardon our religious devotees, who diet on herbs, in the hope that they will obtain an eternal felicity, but that aphilosopher, who knows no other good than that to be found in thisworld, that a doctor of voluptuousness should diet on bread and water, to reach sovereign happiness in this life, is something myintelligence refuses to contemplate. 

I am surprised that the voluptuousness of such an Epicurean is notfounded 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 andPetronius had viewed it as painted, they would never have acceptedEpicurus as their master in the science of pleasure. The piety for thegods attributed to him, is no less ridiculous than the mortificationof the senses. These slothful gods, of whom there was nothing to behoped or feared; these impotent gods who did not deserve the labor andfatigue attendant upon their worship!

Let no one say that worshipers went to the temple through fear ofdispleasing the magistrates, and of scandalizing the people, for theywould have scandalized them less by refusing to assist in theirworship, than shocked them by writings which destroyed the establishedgods, or at least ruined the confidence of the people in theirprotection. 

But you ask me: What is your opinion of Epicurus? You believe neitherhis friends nor his enemies, neither his adversaries nor hispartisans. What is the judgment you have formed?

I believe Epicurus was a very wise philosopher, who at times and oncertain occasions loved the pleasure of repose or the pleasure ofmovement. From this difference in the grade of voluptuousness hassprung all the reputation accorded him. Timocrates and his otheropponents, attacked him on account of his sensual pleasures; those whodefended him, did not go beyond his spiritual voluptuousness. When theformer denounced him for the expense he was at in his repasts, I ampersuaded that the accusation was well founded. When the latterexpatiated upon the small quantity of cheese he required to havebetter cheer than usual, I believe they did not lack reason. When theysay he philosophized with Leontium, they say well; when they say thatEpicurus diverted himself with her, they do not lie. According toSolomon, there is a time to laugh and a time to weep; according toEpicurus, there is a time to be sober and a time to be sensual. To gostill further than that, is a man uniformly voluptuous all his life?

Religiously speaking, the greatest libertine is sometimes the mostdevout; in the study of wisdom, the most indulgent in pleasuressometimes become the most austere. For my own part, I view Epicurusfrom a different standpoint in youth and health, than when old andinfirm. 

Ease and tranquillity, these comforts of the infirm and slothful, cannot be better expressed than in his writings. Sensual voluptuousnessis not less well explained by Cicero. I know that nothing is omittedeither to destroy or elude it, but can conjecture be compared with thetestimony of Cicero, who was intimately acquainted with the Greekphilosophers and their philosophy? It would be better to reject theinequality of mind as an inconstancy of human nature. 

Where exists the man so uniform of temperament, that he does notmanifest contrarieties in his conversation and actions? Solomon meritsthe name of sage, as much as Epicure for less, and he belied himselfequally in his sentiments and conduct. Montaigne, when still young, believed it necessary to always think of death in order to be alwaysready for it. Approaching old age, however, he recanted, so he says, being willing to permit nature to gently guide him, and teach him howto die. 

M. Bernier, the great partisan of Epicurus, avows to-day, that "Afterphilosophizing for fifty years, I doubt things of which I was oncemost assured. "

All objects have different phases, and the mind which is in perpetualmotion, views them from different aspects as they revolve before it. Hence, it may be said, that we see the same thing under differentaspects, thinking at the same time that we have discovered somethingnew. Moreover, age brings great changes in our inclinations, and witha change of inclination often comes a change of opinion. Add, that thepleasures of the senses sometimes give rise to contempt for mentalgratifications as too dry and unproductive and that the delicate andrefined pleasures of the mind, in their turn, scorn the voluptuousnessof the senses as gross. So, no one should be surprised that in sogreat a diversity of aspects and movements, Epicurus, who wrote morethan any other philosopher, should have treated the same subjects in adifferent manner according as he had perceived them from differentpoints of view. 

What avails this general reasoning to show that he might have beensensible to all kinds of pleasure? Let him be considered according tohis relations with the other sex, and nobody will believe that hespent so much time with Leontium and with Themista for the solepurpose of philosophizing. But if he loved the enjoyment ofvoluptuousness, he conducted himself like a wise man. Indulgent to themovements of nature, opposed to its struggles, never mistakingchastity for a virtue, always considering luxury as a vice, heinsisted upon sobriety as an economy of the appetite, and that therepasts in which one indulged should never injure him who partook. Hismotto was: "Sic praesentibus voluptatibus utaris ut futuris nonnoceas. "

He disentangled pleasures from the anxieties which precede, and thedisgust which follows them. When he became infirm and suffered pain, he placed the sovereign good in ease and rest, and wisely, to mynotion, from the condition he was in, for the cessation of pain is thefelicity of those who suffer it. 

As to tranquillity of mind, which constitutes another part ofhappiness, it is nothing but a simple exemption from anxiety or worry. But, whoso can not enjoy agreeable movements is happy in beingguaranteed from the sensations of pain. 

After saying this much, I am of the opinion that ease and tranquillityconstituted the sovereign good for Epicurus when he was infirm andfeeble. For a man who is in a condition to enjoy pleasures, I believethat health makes itself felt by something more active than ease, orindolence, as a good disposition of the soul demands something moreanimated than will permit a state of tranquillity. We are all livingin the midst of an infinity of good and evil things, with sensescapable of being agreeably affected by the former and injured by thelatter. Without so much philosophy, a little reason will enable us toenjoy the good as deliciously as possible and accommodate ourselves tothe evil as patiently as we can.