Manon Lescaut
You ought to obliterate even her name from your memory, and take
advantage, if you are wise, of the indulgence I am showing you.'
"I very clearly perceived that my father was right. It was an
involuntary emotion that made me thus take part with the traitor.
'Alas!' replied I, after a moment's silence, 'it is but too true that I
am the unhappy victim of the vilest perfidy. Yes,' I continued, while
shedding tears of anger, 'I too clearly perceive that I am indeed but a
child. Credulity like mine was easily gulled; but I shall be at no
loss to revenge myself.' My father enquired of me my intentions: 'I
will go to Paris,' I said, 'set fire to B----'s house, and immolate him
and the perfidious Manon together.' This burst made my father laugh,
and had only the effect of causing me to be more vigilantly watched in
my cell.
"I thus passed six long months; during the first of which my mind
underwent little change. My feelings were in a state of perpetual
alternation between hate and love; between hope and despair; according
as, the tendency of each passing thought brought Manon back to my
recollection. At one time, I could see in her the most delightful of
women only, and sigh for the pleasure of beholding her once more; at
another, I felt she was the most unworthy and perfidious of mistresses,
and I would on these occasions swear never again to seek her, but for
the purpose of revenge.
"I was supplied with books, which served to restore my peace of mind.
I read once again all my favourite authors; and I became acquainted
with new ones. All my former taste for study was revived. You will
see of what use this was to me in the sequel. The light I had already
derived from love, enabled me to comprehend many passages in Horace and
Virgil which had before appeared obscure. I wrote an amatory
commentary upon the fourth book of the AEneid. I intend one day to
publish it, and I flatter myself it will be popular.
"'Alas!' I used to exclaim, 'whilst employed on that work, it was for a
heart like mine the faithful Dido sighed, and sighed in vain!'
IV
Now, by the strange enchantment that surrounds thee,
There's nothing--nothing thou shalt ask in vain.
ESSEX.
"While in my confinement Tiberge came one day to see me. I was
surprised at the affectionate joy with which he saluted me. I had
never, hitherto, observed any peculiar warmth in his friendship that
could lead me to look upon it as anything more than the partiality
common among boys of the same age. He was so altered, and had grown so
manly during the five or six months since I had last seen him, that his
expressive features and his manner of addressing me inspired me with a
feeling of respect. He spoke more in the character of a mentor than a
schoolfellow, lamented the delusion into which I had fallen,
congratulated me on my reformation, which he believed was now sincere,
and ended by exhorting me to profit by my youthful error, and open my
eyes to the vanity of worldly pleasures. I looked at him with some
astonishment, which he at once perceived.
"'My dear chevalier,' said he to me, 'you shall hear nothing but the
strict truth, of which I have assured myself by the most serious
examination. I had, perhaps, as strong an inclination for pleasure as
you, but Heaven had at the same time, in its mercy, blessed me with a
taste for virtue. I exercised my reason in comparing the consequences
of the one with those of the other, and the divine aid was graciously
vouchsafed to my reflections. I conceived for the world a contempt
which nothing can equal. Can you guess what it is retains me in it
now,' he added, 'and that prevents me from embracing a life of
solitude? Simply the sincere friendship I bear towards you. I know
the excellent qualities of both your heart and head. There is no good
of which you may not render yourself capable. The blandishments of
pleasure have momentarily drawn you aside. What detriment to the
sacred cause of virtue! Your flight from Amiens gave me such intense
sorrow, that I have not since known a moment's happiness. You may judge
of this by the steps it induced me to take.' He then told me how,
after discovering that I had deceived him, and gone off with my
mistress, he procured horses for the purpose of pursuing me, but having
the start of him by four or five hours, he found it impossible to
overtake me; that he arrived, however, at St. Denis half an hour after
I had left it; that, being very sure that I must have stopped in Paris,
he spent six weeks there in a fruitless endeavour to discover
me--visiting every place where he thought he should be likely to meet
me, and that one evening he at length recognised my mistress at the
play, where she was so gorgeously dressed, that he of course set it
down to the account of some new lover; that he had followed her
equipage to her house, and had there learned from a servant that she
was entertained in this style by M. de B----. 'I did not stop here,'
continued he; 'I returned next day to the house, to learn from her own
lips what had become of you. She turned abruptly away when she heard
the mention of your name, and I was obliged to return into the country
without further information. I there learned the particulars of your
adventure, and the extreme annoyance she had caused you; but I was
unwilling to visit you until I could have assurance of your being in a
more tranquil state.'
"'You have seen Manon then!' cried I, sighing. 'Alas! you are happier
than I, who am doomed never again to behold her.' He rebuked me for
this sigh, which still showed my weakness for the perfidious girl. He
flattered me so adroitly upon the goodness of my mind and disposition,
that he really inspired me, even on this first visit, with a strong
inclination to renounce, as he had done, the pleasures of the world,
and enter at once into holy orders.
"The idea was so suited to my present frame of mind, that when alone I
thought of nothing else. I remembered the words of the Bishop of
Amiens, who had given me the same advice, and thought only of the
happiness which he predicted would result from my adoption of such a
course. Piety itself took part in these suggestions. 'I shall lead a
holy and a Christian life,' said I; 'I shall divide my time between
study and religion, which will allow me no leisure for the perilous
pleasures of love. I shall despise that which men ordinarily admire;
and as I am conscious that my heart will desire nothing but what it can
esteem, my cares will not be greater or more numerous than my wants and
wishes.'
"I thereupon pictured to myself in anticipation a course of life
peaceful and retired. I fancied a retreat embosomed in a wood, with a
limpid stream of running water bounding my garden; a library,
comprising the most select works; a limited circle of friends, virtuous
and intellectual; a table neatly served, but frugal and temperate. To
all these agremens I added a literary correspondence with a friend
whose residence should be in Paris, who should give me occasional
information upon public affairs, less for the gratification of my
curiosity, than to afford a kind of relaxation by hearing of and
lamenting the busy follies of men. 'Shall not I be happy?' added I;
'will not my utmost wishes be thus gratified?' This project flattered
my inclinations extremely. But after all the details of this most
admirable and prudent plan, I felt that my heart still yearned for
something; and that in order to leave nothing to desire in this most
enchanting retirement, one ought to be able to share it with Manon.
"However, Tiberge continuing to pay me frequent visits in order to
strengthen me in the purpose with which he had inspired me, I took an
opportunity of opening the subject to my father. He declared that his
intention ever was to leave his children free to choose a profession,
and that in whatever manner I should dispose of myself, all he wished
to reserve was the right of aiding me with his counsel. On this
occasion he gave me some of the wisest, which tended less to divert me
from my project, than to convince me of my good father's sound judgment
and discretion.
"The recommencement of the scholastic year being at hand, Tiberge and I
agreed to enter ourselves together at St. Sulpice, he to pursue his
theological studies, and I to begin mine. His merits, which were not
unknown to the bishop of the diocese, procured him the promise of a
living from that prelate before our departure.
"My father, thinking me quite cured of my passion, made no objection to
my taking final leave. We arrived at Paris. The Cross of Malta gave
place to the ecclesiastical habit, and the designation of the Abbé de
Grieux was substituted for that of chevalier. I applied so diligently
to study, that in a few months I had made extraordinary progress. I
never lost a moment of the day, and employed even part of the night. I
soon acquired such a reputation, that I was already congratulated upon
the honours which I was sure of obtaining; and, without solicitation on
my part, my name was inscribed on the list for a vacant benefice.
Piety was by no means neglected, and I entered with ardent devotion
into all the exercises of religion. Tiberge was proud of what he
considered the work of his own hands, and many a time have I seen him
shed tears of delight in noticing what he styled my perfect conversion.
"It has never been matter of wonder to me that human resolutions are
liable to change; one passion gives them birth, another may destroy
them; but when I reflect upon the sacredness of those motives that led
me to St. Sulpice, and upon the heartfelt satisfaction I enjoyed while
obeying their dictation, I shudder at the facility with which I
outraged them all. If it be true that the benign succour afforded by
Heaven is at all times equal to the strongest of man's pinions, I shall
be glad to learn the nature of the deplorable ascendancy which causes
us suddenly to swerve from the path of duty, without the power of
offering the least resistance, and without even the slightest
visitation of remorse.
"I now thought myself entirely safe from the dangers of love. I
fancied that I could have preferred a single page of St. Augustine, or
a quarter of an hour of Christian meditation, to every sensual
gratification, not excepting any that I might have derived even from
Manon's society. Nevertheless, one unlucky moment plunged me again
headlong into the gulf; and my ruin was the more irreparable, because,
falling at once to the same depth from whence I had been before
rescued, each of the new disorders into which I now lapsed carried me
deeper and deeper still down the profound abyss of vice. I had passed
nearly a year at Paris without hearing of Manon. It cost me no slight
effort to abstain from enquiry; but the unintermitting advice of
Tiberge, and my own reflections, secured this victory over my wishes.
The last months glided away so tranquilly, that I considered the memory
of this charming but treacherous creature about to be consigned to
eternal oblivion.
"The time arrived when I was to undergo a public examination in the
class of theology: I invited several persons of consideration to
honour me with their presence on the occasion. My name was mentioned in
every quarter of Paris: it even reached the ears of her who had
betrayed me. She had some difficulty in recognising it with the prefix
of Abbé; but curiosity, or perhaps remorse for having been faithless to
me (I could never after ascertain by which of these feelings she was
actuated), made her at once take an interest in a name so like mine;
and she came with several other women to the Sorbonne, where she was
present at my examination, and had doubtless little trouble in