Manon Lescaut
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the Abbe Prevost >> Manon Lescaut
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"`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 Abbe 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 Abbe; 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
recognising my person.
"I had not the remotest suspicion of her presence. It is well
known that in these places there are private seats for ladies,
where they remain screened by a curtain. I returned to St.
Sulpice covered with honours and congratulations. It was six in
the evening. The moment I returned, a lady was announced, who
desired to speak with me. I went to meet her. Heavens! what a
surprise!
"It was Manon. It was she indeed, but more bewitching and
brilliant than I had ever beheld her. She was now in her
eighteenth year. Her beauty beggars all description. The
exquisite grace of her form, the mild sweetness of expression
that animated her features, and her engaging air, made her seem
the very personification of love. The vision was something too
perfect for human beauty.
"I stood like one enchanted at beholding her. Unable to divine
the object of her visit, I waited trembling and with downcast
looks until she explained herself. At first, her embarrassment
was equal to mine; but, seeing that I was not disposed to break
silence, she raised her hand to her eyes to conceal a starting
tear, and then, in a timid tone, said that she well knew she had
justly earned my abhorrence by her infidelity; but that if I had
ever really felt any love for her, there was not much kindness in
allowing two long years to pass without enquiring after her, and
as little now in seeing her in the state of mental distress in
which she was, without condescending to bestow upon her a single
word. I shall not attempt to describe what my feelings were as I
listened to this reproof.
"She seated herself. I remained standing, with my face half
turned aside, for I could not muster courage to meet her look. I
several times commenced a reply without power to conclude it. At
length I made an effort, and in a tone of poignant grief
exclaimed: `Perfidious Manon! perfidious, perfidious creature!'
She had no wish, she repeated with a flood of tears, to attempt
to justify her infidelity. `What is your wish, then?' cried I.
`I wish to die,' she answered, `if you will not give me back that
heart, without which it is impossible to endure life.' `Take my
life too, then, faithless girl!' I exclaimed, in vain
endeavouring to restrain my tears; `take my life also! it is the
sole sacrifice that remains for me to make, for my heart has
never ceased to be thine.'
"I had hardly uttered these words, when she rose in a transport
of joy, and approached to embrace me. She loaded me with a
thousand caresses. She addressed me by all the endearing
appellations with which love supplies his votaries, to enable
them to express the most passionate fondness. I still answered
with affected coldness; but the sudden transition from a state of
quietude, such as that I had up to this moment enjoyed, to the
agitation and tumult which were now kindled in my breast and
tingled through my veins, thrilled me with a kind of horror, and
impressed me with a vague sense that I was about to undergo some
great transformation, and to enter upon a new existence.
"We sat down close by each other. I took her hand within mine,
`Ah! Manon,' said I, with a look of sorrow, `I little thought
that love like mine could have been repaid with treachery! It
was a poor triumph to betray a heart of which you were the
absolute mistress--whose sole happiness it was to gratify and
obey you. Tell me if among others you have found any so
affectionate and so devoted? No, no! I believe nature has cast
few hearts in the same mould as mine. Tell me at least whether
you have ever thought of me with regret! Can I have any reliance
on the duration of the feeling that has brought you back to me
today? I perceive too plainly that you are infinitely lovelier
than ever: but I conjure you by all my past sufferings, dearest
Manon, to tell me--can you in future be more faithful?'
"She gave me in reply such tender assurances of her repentance,
and pledged her fidelity with such solemn protestations and vows,
that I was inexpressibly affected. `Beauteous Manon,' said I,
with rather a profane mixture of amorous and theological
expressions, `you are too adorable for a created being. I feel
my heart transported with triumphant rapture. It is folly to
talk of liberty at St. Sulpice. Fortune and reputation are but
slight sacrifices at such a shrine! I plainly foresee it: I can
read my destiny in your bright eyes; but what abundant recompense
shall I not find in your affections for any loss I may sustain!
The favours of fortune have no influence over me: fame itself
appears to me but a mockery; all my projects of a holy life were
wild absurdities: in fact, any joys but those I may hope for at
your side are fit objects of contempt. There are none that would
not vanish into worthlessness before one single glance of thine!'
"In promising her, however, a full remission of her past
frailties, I enquired how she permitted herself to be led astray
by B----. She informed me that having seen her at her window, he
became passionately in love with her; that he made his advances
in the true style of a mercantile cit;--that is to say, by giving
her to understand in his letter, that his payments would be
proportioned to her favours; that she had admitted his overtures
at first with no other intention than that of getting from him
such a sum as might enable us to live without inconvenience; but
that he had so bewildered her with splendid promises, that she
allowed herself to be misled by degrees. She added, that I ought
to have formed some notion of the remorse she experienced, by her
grief on the night of our separation; and assured me that, in
spite of the splendour in which he maintained her, she had never
known a moment's happiness with him, not only, she said, because
he was utterly devoid of that delicacy of sentiment and of those
agreeable manners which I possessed, but because even in the
midst of the amusements which he unceasingly procured her, she
could never shake off the recollection of my love, or her own
ingratitude. She then spoke of Tiberge, and the extreme
embarrassment his visit caused her. `A dagger's point,' she
added, `could not have struck more terror to my heart. I turned
from him, unable to sustain the interview for a moment.'
"She continued to inform me how she had been apprised of my
residence at Paris, of the change in my condition, and of her
witnessing my examination at the Sorbonne. She told me how
agitated she had been during my intellectual conflict with the
examiner; what difficulty she felt in restraining her tears as
well as her sighs, which were more than once on the point of
spurning all control, and bursting forth; that she was the last
person to leave the hall of examination, for fear of betraying
her distress, and that, following only the instinct of her own
heart, and her ardent desires, she came direct to the seminary,
with the firm resolution of surrendering life itself, if she
found me cruel enough to withhold my forgiveness.
"Could any savage remain unmoved by such proofs of cordial
repentance as those I had just witnessed? For my part, I felt at
the moment that I could gladly have given up all the bishoprics
in Christendom for Manon. I asked what course she would
recommend in our present emergency. `It is requisite,' she
replied, `at all events, to quit the seminary, and settle in some
safer place.' I consented to everything she proposed. She got
into her carriage to go and wait for me at the corner of the
street. I escaped the next moment, without attracting the
porter's notice. I entered the carriage, and we drove off to a
Jew's. I there resumed my lay-dress and sword. Manon furnished
the supplies, for I was without a sou, and fearing that I might
meet with some new impediment, she would not consent to my
returning to my room at St. Sulpice for my purse. My finances
were in truth wretchedly low, and hers more than sufficiently
enriched by the liberality of M. de B---- to make her think
lightly of my loss. We consulted together at the Jew's as to the
course we should now adopt.
"In order to enhance the sacrifice she had made for me of her
late lover, she determined to treat him without the least
ceremony. `I shall leave him all his furniture,' she said; `it
belongs to him: but I shall assuredly carry off, as I have a
right to do, the jewels, and about sixty thousand francs, which I
have had from him in the last two years. I have given him no
control over me,' she added, `so that we may remain without
apprehension in Paris, taking a convenient house, where we shall
live, oh how happily together!'
"I represented to her that, although there might be no danger
for her, there was a great deal for me, who must be sooner or
later infallibly recognised, and continually exposed to a
repetition of the trials I had before endured. She gave me to
understand that she could not quit Paris without regret. I had
such a dread of giving her annoyance, that there were no risks I
would not have encountered for her sake. However, we compromised
matters by resolving to take a house in some village near Paris,
from whence it would be easy for us to come into town whenever
pleasure or business required it. We fixed on Chaillot, which is
at a convenient distance. Manon at once returned to her house,
and I went to wait for her at a side-gate of the garden of the
Tuileries.
"She returned an hour after, in a hired carriage, with a
servant-maid, and several trunks, which contained her dresses,
and everything she had of value.
"We were not long on our way to Chaillot. We lodged the first
night at the inn, in order to have time to find a suitable house,
or at least a commodious lodging. We found one to our taste the
next morning.
"My happiness now appeared to be secured beyond the reach of
fate. Manon was everything most sweet and amiable. She was so
delicate and so unceasing in her attentions to me, that I deemed
myself but too bountifully rewarded for all my past troubles. As
we had both, by this time, acquired some experience, we discussed
rationally the state of our finances. Sixty thousand francs (the
amount of our wealth) was not a sum that could be expected to
last our whole life; besides, we were neither of us much disposed
to control our expenses. Manon's chief virtue assuredly was not
economy, any more than it was mine. This was my proposition.
`Sixty thousand francs,' said I, `may support us for ten years.
Two thousand crowns a year will suffice, if we continue to live
at Chaillot. We shall keep up appearances, but live frugally.
Our only expense will be occasionally a carriage, and the
theatres. We shall do everything in moderation. You like the
opera; we shall go twice a week, in the season. As for play, we
shall limit ourselves; so that our losses must never exceed three
crowns. It is impossible but that in the space of ten years some
change must occur in my family: my father is even now of an
advanced age; he may die; in which event I must inherit a
fortune, and we shall then be above all other fears.'
"This arrangement would not have been by any means the most
silly act of my life, if we had only been prudent enough to
persevere in its execution; but our resolutions hardly lasted
longer than a month. Manon's passion was for amusement; she was
the only object of mine. New temptations to expense constantly
presented themselves, and far from regretting the money which she
sometimes prodigally lavished, I was the first to procure for her
everything likely to afford her pleasure. Our residence at
Chaillot began even to appear tiresome.
"Winter was approaching, and the whole world returning to town;
the country had a deserted look. She proposed to me to take a
house in Paris. I did not approve of this; but, in order partly
at least to satisfy her, I said that we might hire furnished
apartments, and that we might sleep there whenever we were late
in quitting the assembly, whither we often went; for the
inconvenience of returning so late to Chaillot was her excuse for
wishing to leave it. We had thus two dwellings, one in town and
the other in the country. This change soon threw our affairs
into confusion, and led to two adventures, which eventually
caused our ruin.
"Manon had a brother in the Guards. He unfortunately lived in
the very street in which we had taken lodgings. He one day
recognised his sister at the window, and hastened over to us. He
was a fellow of the rudest manners, and without the slightest
principle of honour. He entered the room swearing in the most
horrible way; and as he knew part of his sister's history, he
loaded her with abuse and reproaches.
"I had gone out the moment before, which was doubtless fortunate
for either him or me, for I was little disposed to brook an
insult. I only returned to the lodgings after he had left them.
The low spirits in which I found Manon convinced me at once that
something extraordinary had occurred. She told me of the
provoking scene she had just gone through, and of the brutal
threats of her brother. I felt such indignation, that I wished
to proceed at once to avenge her, when she entreated me with
tears to desist.
"While we were still talking of the adventure, the guardsman
again entered the room in which we sat, without even waiting to
be announced. Had I known him, he should not have met from me as
civil a reception as he did; but saluting us with a smile upon
his countenance, he addressed himself to Manon, and said, he was
come to make excuses for his violence; that he had supposed her
to be living a life of shame and disgrace, and it was this notion
that excited his rage; but having since made enquiry from one of
our servants, he had learned such a character of me, that his
only wish was now to be on terms with us both.
"Although this admission, of having gone for information to one
of my own servants, had in it something ludicrous as well as
indelicate, I acknowledged his compliments with civility, I
thought by doing so to please Manon, and I was not deceived--she
was delighted at the reconciliation. We made him stay to dine
with us.
"In a little time he became so familiar, that hearing us speak
of our return to Chaillot, he insisted on accompanying us. We
were obliged to give him a seat in our carriage. This was in
fact putting him into possession, for he soon began to feel so
much pleasure in our company, that he made our house his home,
and made himself in some measure master of all that belonged to
us. He called me his brother, and, under the semblance of
fraternal freedom, he put himself on such a footing as to
introduce all his friends without ceremony into our house at
Chaillot, and there entertain them at our expense. His
magnificent uniforms were procured of my tailor and charged to
me, and he even contrived to make Manon and me responsible for
all his debts. I pretended to be blind to this system of
tyranny, rather than annoy Manon, and even to take no notice of
the sums of money which from time to time he received from her.
No doubt, as he played very deep, he was honest enough to repay
her a part sometimes, when luck turned in his favour; but our
finances were utterly inadequate to supply, for any length of
time, demands of such magnitude and frequency.
"I was on the point of coming to an understanding with him, in
order to put an end to the system, when an unfortunate accident
saved me that trouble, by involving us in inextricable ruin.
"One night we stopped in Paris to sleep, as it had now indeed
become our constant habit. The servant-maid who on such
occasions remained alone at Chaillot, came early the next morning
to inform me that our house had taken fire in the night, and that
the flames had been extinguished with great difficulty. I asked
whether the furniture had suffered. She answered, that there had
been such confusion, owing to the multitude of strangers who came
to offer assistance, that she could hardly ascertain what damage
had been done. I was principally uneasy about our money, which
had been locked up in a little box. I went off in haste to
Chaillot. Vain hope! the box had disappeared!
"I discovered that one could love money without being a miser.
This loss afflicted me to such a degree that I was almost out of
my mind. I saw at one glance to what new calamities I should be
exposed: poverty was the least of them. I knew Manon thoroughly;
I had already had abundant proof that, although faithful and
attached to me under happier circumstances, she could not be
depended upon in want: pleasure and plenty she loved too well to
sacrifice them for my sake. `I shall lose her!' I cried;
`miserable chevalier! you are about then to lose all that you
love on earth!' This thought agitated me to such a degree that I
actually for some moments considered whether it would not be best
for me to end at once all my miseries by death. I however
preserved presence of mind enough to reflect whether I was
entirely without resource, and an idea occurred to me which
quieted my despair. It would not be impossible, I thought, to
conceal our loss from Manon; and I might perhaps discover some
ways and means of supplying her, so as to ward off the
inconveniences of poverty.
"I had calculated in endeavouring to comfort myself, that twenty
thousand crowns would support us for ten years. Suppose that
these ten years had now elapsed, and that none of the events
which I had looked for in my family had occurred. What then
would have been my course? I hardly know; but whatever I should
then have done, why may I not do now? How many are there in
Paris, who have neither my talents, nor the natural advantages I
possess, and who, notwithstanding, owe their support to the
exercise of their talents, such as they are?
"`Has not Providence,' I added, while reflecting on the
different conditions of life, `arranged things wisely?' The
greater number of the powerful and the rich are fools. No one
who knows anything of the world can doubt that. How admirable is
the compensating justice thereof! If wealth brought with it
talent also, the rich would be too happy, and other men too
wretched. To these latter are given personal advantages and
genius, to help them out of misery and want. Some of them share
the riches of the wealthy by administering to their pleasures, or
by making them their dupes; others afford them instruction, and
endeavour to make them decent members of society; to be sure,
they do not always succeed; but that was probably not the
intention of the divine wisdom. In every case they derive a
benefit from their labours by living at the expense of their
pupils; and, in whatever point of view it is considered, the
follies of the rich are a bountiful source of revenue to the
humbler classes.
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