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Isabella L. Bird - "A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains"

William Cowper Brann - "*Project Gutenberg's Etext of Volume 1 of Brann The Iconoclast*"

Henry James - "An International Episode"

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The Princess of Cleves

M >> Madame de Lafayette >> The Princess of Cleves




"There is scarce a woman but out of vanity or inclination
desires to engage you; there are very few whom you do not please,
and my own experience would make me believe, that there are none
whom it is not in your power to please; I should think you always
in love and beloved, nor should I be often mistaken; and yet in
this case I should have no remedy but patience, nay I question if
I should dare to complain: a lover may be reproached; but can a
husband be so, when one has nothing to urge, but that he loves
one no longer? But admit I could accustom myself to bear a
misfortune of this nature, yet how could I bear that of imagining
I constantly saw Monsieur de Cleves, accusing you of his death,
reproaching me with having loved you, with having married you,
and showing me the difference betwixt his affection and yours?
It is impossible to over-rule such strong reasons as these; I
must continue in the condition I am in, and in the resolution I
have taken never to alter it." "Do you believe you have the
power to do it, Madam?" cried the Duke de Nemours. "Do you
think your resolution can hold out against a man who adores, and
who has the happiness to please you? It is more difficult than
you imagine, Madam, to resist a person who pleases and loves one
at the same time; you have done it by an austerity of virtue,
which is almost without example; but that virtue no longer
opposes your inclinations, and I hope you will follow them in
spite of yourself." "I know nothing can be more difficult than
what I undertake," replied Madam de Cleves; "I distrust my
strength in the midst of my reasons; what I think I owe to the
memory of Monsieur de Cleves would be a weak consideration, if
not supported by the interest of my ease and repose; and the
reasons of my repose have need to be supported by those of my
duty; but though I distrust myself, I believe I shall never
overcome my scruples, nor do I so much as hope to overcome the
inclination I have for you; that inclination will make me
unhappy, and I will deny myself the sight of you, whatever
violence it is to me: I conjure you, by all the power I have
over you, to seek no occasion of seeing me; I am in a condition
which makes that criminal which might be lawful at another time;
decency forbids all commerce between us." Monsieur de Nemours
threw himself at her feet, and gave a loose to all the violent
motions with which he was agitated; he expressed both by his
words and tears the liveliest and most tender passion that ever
heart was touched with; nor was the heart of Madam de Cleves
insensible; she looked upon him with eyes swelled with tears:
"Why was it," cries she, "that I can charge you with Monsieur
de Cleves's death? Why did not my first acquaintance with you
begin since I have been at liberty, or why did not I know you
before I was engaged? Why does fate separate us by such
invincible obstacles?" "There are no obstacles, Madam,"
replied Monsieur de Nemours; "it is you alone oppose my
happiness; you impose on yourself a law which virtue and reason
do not require you to obey." "'Tis true," says she, "I
sacrifice a great deal to a duty which does not subsist but in my
imagination; have patience, and expect what time may produce;
Monsieur de Cleves is but just expired, and that mournful object
is too near to leave me clear and distinct views; in the meantime
enjoy the satisfaction to know you have gained the heart of a
person who would never have loved anyone, had she not seen you:
believe the inclination I have for you will last forever, and
that it will be uniform and the same, whatever becomes of me:
Adieu," said she; "this is a conversation I ought to blush for;
however, give an account of it to the Viscount; I agree to it,
and desire you to do it."

With these words she went away, nor could Monsieur de Nemours
detain her. In the next room she met with the Viscount, who
seeing her under so much concern would not speak to her, but led
her to her coach without saying a word; he returned to Monsieur
de Nemours, who was so full of joy, grief, admiration, and of all
those affections that attend a passion full of hope and fear,
that he had not the use of his reason. It was a long time ere
the Viscount could get from him an account of the conversation;
at last the Duke related it to him, and Monsieur de Chartres,
without being in love, no less admired the virtue, wit and merit
of Madam de Cleves, than did Monsieur de Nemours himself; they
began to examine what issue could reasonably be hoped for in this
affair; and however fearful the Duke de Nemours was from his
love, he agreed with the Viscount, that it was impossible Madam
de Cleves should continue in the resolution she was in; they were
of opinion nevertheless that it was necessary to follow her
orders, for fear, upon the public's perceiving the inclination he
had for her, she should make declarations and enter into
engagements with respect to the world, that she would afterwards
abide by, lest it should be thought she loved him in her
husband's lifetime.

Monsieur de Nemours determined to follow the King; it was a
journey he could not well excuse himself from, and so he resolved
to go without endeavouring to see Madam de Cleves again from the
window out of which he had sometimes seen her; he begged the
Viscount to speak to her; and what did he not desire him to say
in his behalf? What an infinite number of reasons did he furnish
him with, to persuade her to conquer her scruples? In short,
great part of the night was spent before he thought of going
away.

As for Madam de Cleves, she was in no condition to rest; it was a
thing so new to her to have broke loose from the restraints she
had laid on herself, to have endured the first declarations of
love that ever were made to her, and to have confessed that she
herself was in love with him that made them, all this was so new
to her, that she seemed quite another person; she was surprised
at what she had done; she repented of it; she was glad of it; all
her thoughts were full of anxiety and passion; she examined again
the reasons of her duty, which obstructed her happiness; she was
grieved to find them so strong, and was sorry that she had made
them out so clear to Monsieur de Nemours: though she had
entertained thoughts of marrying him, as soon as she beheld him
in the garden of the suburbs, yet her late conversation with him
made a much greater impression on her mind; at some moments she
could not comprehend how she could be unhappy by marrying him,
and she was ready to say in her heart, that her scruples as to
what was past, and her fears for the future, were equally
groundless: at other times, reason and her duty prevailed in her
thoughts, and violently hurried her into a resolution not to
marry again, and never to see Monsieur de Nemours; but this was a
resolution hard to be established in a heart so softened as hers,
and so lately abandoned to the charms of love. At last, to give
herself a little ease, she concluded that it was not yet
necessary to do herself the violence of coming to any resolution,
and decency allowed her a considerable time to determine what to
do: however she resolved to continue firm in having no commerce
with Monsieur de Nemours. The Viscount came to see her, and
pleaded his friend's cause with all the wit and application
imaginable, but could not make her alter her conduct, or recall
the severe orders she had given to Monsieur de Nemours; she told
him her design was not to change her condition; that she knew how
difficult it was to stand to that design, but that she hoped she
should be able to do it; she made him so sensible how far she was
affected with the opinion that Monsieur de Nemours was the cause
of her husband's death, and how much she was convinced that it
would be contrary to her duty to marry him, that the Viscount was
afraid it would be very difficult to take away those impressions;
he did not, however, tell the Duke what he thought, when he gave
him an account of his conversation with her, but left him as much
hope as a man who is loved may reasonably have.

They set out the next day, and went after the King; the Viscount
wrote to Madam de Cleves at Monsieur de Nemours's request, and in
a second letter, which soon followed the first, the Duke wrote a
line or two in his own hand; but Madam de Cleves determined not
to depart from the rules she had prescribed herself, and fearing
the accidents that might happen from letters, informed the
Viscount that she would receive his letters no more, if he
continued to speak of Monsieur de Nemours, and did it in so
peremptory a manner, that the Duke desired him not to mention
him.

During the absence of the Court, which was gone to conduct the
Queen of Spain as far as Poitou, Madam de Cleves continued at
home; and the more distant she was from Monsieur de Nemours, and
from everything that could put her in mind of him, the more she
recalled the memory of the Prince of Cleves, which she made it
her glory to preserve; the reasons she had not to marry the Duke
de Nemours appeared strong with respect to her duty, but
invincible with respect to her quiet; the opinion she had, that
marriage would put an end to his love, and the torments of
jealousy, which she thought the infallible consequences of
marriage, gave her the prospect of a certain unhappiness if she
consented to his desires; on the other hand, she thought it
impossible, if he were present, to refuse the most amiable man in
the world, the man who loved her, and whom she loved, and to
oppose him in a thing that was neither inconsistent with virtue
nor decency: she thought that nothing but absence and distance
could give her the power to do it; and she found she stood in
need of them, not only to support her resolution not to marry,
but even to keep her from seeing Monsieur de Nemours; she
resolved therefore to take a long journey, in order to pass away
the time which decency obliged her to spend in retirement; the
fine estate she had near the Pyrenees seemed the most proper
place she could make choice of; she set out a few days before the
Court returned, and wrote at parting to the Viscount to conjure
him not to think of once enquiring after her, or of writing to her.

Monsieur de Nemours was as much troubled at this journey as
another would have been for the death of his mistress; the
thought of being deprived so long a time of the sight of Madam de
Cleves grieved him to the soul, especially as it happened at a
time when he had lately enjoyed the pleasure of seeing her, and
of seeing her moved by his passion; however he could do nothing
but afflict himself, and his affliction increased every day.
Madam de Cleves, whose spirits had been so much agitated, was no
sooner arrived at her country seat, but she fell desperately ill;
the news of it was brought to Court; Monsieur de Nemours was
inconsolable; his grief proceeded even to despair and
extravagance; the Viscount had much a-do to hinder him from
discovering his passion in public, and as much a-do to keep him
from going in person to know how she did; the relation and
friendship between her and the Viscount served as an excuse for
sending frequent messengers; at last they heard she was out of
the extremity of danger she had been in, but continued in a
languishing malady that left but little hopes of life.

The nature of her disease gave her a prospect of death both near,
and at a distance, and showed her the things of this life in a
very different view from that in which they are seen by people in
health; the necessity of dying, to which she saw herself so near,
taught her to wean herself from the world, and the lingeringness
of her distemper brought her to a habit in it; yet when she was a
little recovered, she found that Monsieur de Nemours was not
effaced from her heart; but to defend herself against him, she
called to her aid all the reasons which she thought she had never
to marry him; after a long conflict in herself, she subdued the
relics of that passion which had been weakened by the sentiments
her illness had given her; the thoughts of death had reproached
her with the memory of Monsieur de Cleves, and this remembrance
was so agreeable to her duty, that it made deep impressions in
her heart; the passions and engagements of the world appeared to
her in the light, in which they appear to persons who have more
great and more distant views. The weakness of her body, which
was brought very low, aided her in preserving these sentiments;
but as she knew what power opportunities have over the wisest
resolutions, she would not hazard the breach of those she had
taken, by returning into any place where she might see him she
loved; she retired, under pretence of change of air, into a
convent, but without declaring a settled resolution of quitting
the Court.

Upon the first news of it, Monsieur de Nemours felt the weight of
this retreat, and saw the importance of it; he presently thought
he had nothing more to hope, but omitted not anything that might
oblige her to return; he prevailed with the Queen to write; he
made the Viscount not only write, but go to her, but all to no
purpose; the Viscount saw her, but she did not tell him she had
fixed her resolution; and yet he judged, she would never return
to Court; at last Monsieur de Nemours himself went to her, under
pretence of using the waters; she was extremely grieved and
surprised to hear he was come, and sent him word by a person of
merit about her, that she desired him not to take it ill if she
did not expose herself to the danger of seeing him, and of
destroying by his presence those sentiments she was obliged to
preserve; that she desired he should know, that having found it
both against her duty and peace of mind to yield to the
inclination she had to be his, all things else were become so
indifferent to her, that she had renounced them for ever; that
she thought only of another life, and had no sentiment remaining
as to this, but the desire of seeing him in the same dispositions
she was in.

Monsieur de Nemours was like to have expired in the presence of
the lady who told him this; he begged her a thousand times to
return to Madam de Cleves, and to get leave for him to see her;
but she told him the Princess had not only forbidden her to come
back with any message from him, but even to report the
conversation that should pass between them. At length Monsieur
de Nemours was obliged to go back, oppressed with the heaviest
grief a man is capable of, who has lost all hopes of ever seeing
again a person, whom he loved not only with the most violent,
but most natural and sincere passion that ever was; yet still he
was not utterly discouraged, but used all imaginable methods to
make her alter her resolution; at last, after several years, time
and absence abated his grief, and extinguished his passion.
Madam de Cleves lived in a manner that left no probability of her
ever returning to Court; she spent one part of the year in that
religious house, and the other at her own, but still continued
the austerity of retirement, and constantly employed herself in
exercises more holy than the severest convents can pretend to;
and her life, though it was short, left examples of inimitable virtues.

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