Manon Lescaut

T >> the Abbe Prevost >> Manon Lescaut

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"If an eternal imprisonment, or death itself, had been presented
to my view, I could not have restrained the excitement into which
this afflicting announcement threw me. I flung myself upon him
in so violent a rage that half my strength was exhausted by the
effort. I had, however, more than enough left to drag him to the
ground, and grasp him by the throat. I should infallibly have
strangled him, if his fall, and the half-stifled cries which he
had still the power to utter, had not attracted the governor and
several of the priests to my room. They rescued him from my
fury.

"I was, myself, breathless and almost impotent from rage. `Oh
God!' I cried--`Heavenly justice! Must I survive this infamy?'
I tried again to seize the barbarian who had thus roused my
indignation--they prevented me. My despair--my cries--my tears,
exceeded all belief: I raved in so incoherent a manner that all
the bystanders, who were ignorant of the cause, looked at each
other with as much dread as surprise.

"G---- M---- in the meantime adjusted his wig and cravat, and in
his anger at having been so ill-treated, ordered me to be kept
under more severe restraint than before, and to be punished in
the manner usual with offenders in St. Lazare. `No, sir!' said
the governor, `it is not with a person of his birth that we are
in the habit of using such means of coercion; besides, he is
habitually so mild and well-conducted, that I cannot but think
you must have given provocation for such excessive violence.'
This reply disconcerted G---- M---- beyond measure and he went
away, declaring that he knew how to be revenged on the governor,
as well as on me, and everyone else who dared to thwart him.

"The Superior, having ordered some of the brotherhood to escort
him out of the prison, remained alone with me. He conjured me to
tell him at once what was the cause of the fracas.--`Oh, my good
sir!' said I to him, continuing to cry like a child, `imagine the
most horrible cruelty, figure to yourself the most inhuman of
atrocities--that is what G---- M---- has had the cowardly
baseness to perpetrate: he has pierced my heart. Never shall I
recover from this blow! I would gladly tell you the whole
circumstance,' added I, sobbing with grief; `you are
kind-hearted, and cannot fail to pity me.'

"I gave him, as briefly as I could, a history of my
long-standing and insurmountable passion for Manon, of the
flourishing condition of our fortunes previous to the robbery
committed by our servants, of the offers which G---- M---- had
made to my mistress, of the understanding they had come to, and
the manner in which it had been defeated. To be sure, I
represented things to him in as favourable a light for us as
possible. `Now you can comprehend,' continued I, `the source of
M. G---- M----'s holy zeal for my conversion. He has had
influence enough to have me shut up here, out of mere revenge.
That I can pardon; but, my good sir, that is not all. He has
taken from me my heart's blood: he has had Manon shamefully
incarcerated in the Magdalen; and had the effrontery to announce
it to me this day with his own lips. In the Magdalen, good sir!
Oh heavens! my adorable mistress, my beloved Manon, a degraded
inmate of the Hospital! How shall I command strength of mind
enough to survive this grief and shame!'

"The good Father, seeing me in such affliction, endeavoured to
console me. He told me that he had never understood my history,
as I just now related it; he had of course known that I led a
dissolute life, but he had imagined that M. G---- M----'s
interest about me was the result of his esteem and friendship for
my family; that it was in this sense he had explained the matter
to him; that what I had now told him should assuredly produce a
change in my treatment, and that he had no doubt but the accurate
detail which he should immediately transmit to the
lieutenant-general of police would bring about my liberation.

"He then enquired why I had never thought of informing my family
of what had taken place, since they had not been instrumental to
my incarceration. I satisfactorily answered this by stating my
unwillingness to cause my father pain, or to bring upon myself
the humiliation of such an exposure. In the end, he promised to
go directly to the lieutenant-general of police if it were only,
said he, to be beforehand with M. G---- M----, who went off in
such a rage, and who had sufficient influence to make himself
formidable.

"I looked for the good Father's return with all the suspense of
a man expecting sentence of death. It was torture to me to think
of Manon at the Magdalen. Besides the infamy of such a prison, I
knew not how she might be treated there; and the recollection of
some particulars I had formerly heard of this horrible place,
incessantly renewed my misery. Cost what it might, I was so bent
upon relieving her by some means or other, that I should
assuredly have set fire to St. Lazare, if no other mode of escape
had presented itself.

"I considered what chances would remain to me if the lieutenant-
general still kept me in confinement. I taxed my ingenuity: I
scanned every imaginable gleam of hope--I could discover nothing
that gave me any prospect of escape, and I feared that I should
experience only more rigid confinement, if I made an unsuccessful
attempt. I thought of some friends from whom I might hope for
aid, but then, how was I to make them aware of my situation? At
length I fancied that I had hit upon a plan so ingenious, as to
offer a fair probability of success. I postponed the details of
its arrangement until after the Superior's return, in case of his
having failed in the object of his visit.

"He soon arrived: I did not observe upon his countenance any of
those marks of joy that indicate good news. `I have spoken,'
said he, `to the lieutenant-general of police, but I was too
late, M. G---- M---- went straight to him after quitting us, and
so prejudiced him against you, that he was on the point of
sending me fresh instructions to subject you to closer
confinement.

"`However, when I let him know the truth of your story, he
reconsidered the matter, and, smiling at the incontinence of old
G---- M----, he said it would be necessary to keep you here for
six months longer, in order to pacify him; the less to be
lamented,' he added, `because your morals would be sure to
benefit by your residence here. He desired that I would show you
every kindness and attention, and I need not assure you that you
shall have no reason to complain of your treatment.'

"This speech of the Superior's was long enough to afford me time
to form a prudent resolution. I saw that by betraying too strong
an impatience for my liberty, I should probably be upsetting all
my projects. I acknowledged to him, that, as it was necessary to
me to remain, it was an infinite comfort to know that I possessed
a place in his esteem. I then requested, and with unaffected
sincerity, a favour, which could be of no consequence to others,
and which would contribute much to my peace of mind; it was to
inform a friend of mine, a devout clergyman, who lived at St.
Sulpice, that I was at St. Lazare, and to permit me occasionally
to receive his visits.

"This was of course my friend Tiberge; not that I could hope
from him the assistance necessary for effecting my liberty; but I
wished to make him the unconscious instrument of my designs. In
a word, this was my project: I wished to write to Lescaut, and to
charge him and our common friends with the task of my
deliverance. The first difficulty was to have my letter conveyed
to him: this should be Tiberge's office. However, as he knew him
to be Manon's brother, I doubted whether he would take charge of
this commission. My plan was to enclose my letter to Lescaut in
another to some respectable man of my acquaintance, begging of
him to transmit the first to its address without delay; and as it
was necessary that I should have personal communication with
Lescaut, in order to arrange our proceedings, I told him to call
on me at St. Lazare, and assume the name of my eldest brother, as
if he had come to Paris expressly to see me. I postponed till
our meeting all mention of the safest and most expeditious course
I intended to suggest for our future conduct. The governor
informed Tiberge of my wish to see him. This ever-faithful
friend had not so entirely lost sight of me as to be ignorant of
my present abode, and it is probable that, in his heart, he did
not regret the circumstance, from an idea that it might furnish
the means of my moral regeneration. He lost no time in paying me
the desired visit.

VI

It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion;
and how it braves the nature and value of things, by this--
that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing
but in love.--BACON.

"My interview with Tiberge was of the most friendly description.
I saw that his object was to discover the present temper of my
mind. I opened my heart to him without any reserve, except as to
the mere point of my intention of escaping. `It is not from such
a friend as you,' said I, `that I can ever wish to dissemble my
real feelings. If you flattered yourself with a hope that you
were at last about to find me grown prudent and regular in my
conduct, a libertine reclaimed by the chastisements of fortune,
released alike from the trammels of love, and the dominion that
Manon wields over me, I must in candour say, that you deceive
yourself. You still behold me, as you left me four months ago,
the slave--if you will, the unhappy slave--of a passion, from
which I now hope, as fervently and as confidently as I ever did,
to derive eventually solid comfort.'

"He answered, that such an acknowledgment rendered me utterly
inexcusable; that it was no uncommon case to meet sinners who
allowed themselves to be so dazzled with the glare of vice as to
prefer it openly to the true splendour of virtue; they were at
least deluded by the false image of happiness, the poor dupes of
an empty shadow; but to know and feel as I did, that the object
of my attachment was only calculated to render me culpable and
unhappy, and to continue thus voluntarily in a career of misery
and crime, involved a contradiction of ideas and of conduct
little creditable to my reason.

"`Tiberge,' replied I, `it is easy to triumph when your
arguments are unopposed. Allow me to reason for a few moments in
my turn. Can you pretend that what you call the happiness of
virtue is exempt from troubles, and crosses, and cares? By what
name will you designate the dungeon, the rack, the inflections
and tortures of tyrants? Will you say with the Mystics[1] that
the soul derives pleasure from the torments of the body? You are
not bold enough to hold such a doctrine--a paradox not to be
maintained. This happiness, then, that you prize so much, has a
thousand drawbacks, or is, more properly speaking, but a tissue
of sufferings through which one hopes to attain felicity. If by
the power of imagination one can even derive pleasure from these
sufferings, hoping that they may lead to a happy end, why, let me
ask, do you deem my conduct senseless, when it is directed by
precisely the same principle? I love Manon: I wade through
sorrow and suffering in order to attain happiness with her. My
path is one indeed of difficulties, but the mere hope of reaching
the desired goal makes it easy and delightful; and I shall think
myself but too bountifully repaid by one moment of her society,
for all the troubles I encounter in my course. There appears
therefore no difference between us, or, if there be any, it is
assuredly in my favour; for the bliss I hope for is near and
tangible, yours is far distant, and purely speculative. Mine is
of the same kind as my sufferings, that is to say, evident to my
senses; yours is of an incomprehensible nature, and only
discernible through the dim medium of faith.'

[1] A favourite tenet of the Mystics, advocated by Madame de
Guyon, and adopted by the amiable and eloquent Fenelon, was, that
the love of the Supreme Being must be pure and disinterested;
that is, exempt from all views of interest, and all hope of
reward. See the controversy between Bossuet and Fenelon.

"Tiberge appeared shocked by my remarks. He retired two or
three paces from me, while he said, in the most serious tone,
that my argument was not only a violation of good sense, but that
it was the miserable sophistry of irreligion; `for the
comparison,' he added, `of the pitiful reward of your sufferings
with that held out to us by the divine revelation, is the essence
of impiety and absurdity combined.'

"`I acknowledge,' said I, `that the comparison is not a just
one, but my argument does not at all depend upon it. I was about
to explain what you consider a contradiction--the persevering in
a painful pursuit; and I think I have satisfactorily proved, that
if there be any contradiction in that, we shall be both equally
obnoxious to the charge. It was in this light, only, that I
could observe no difference in our cases, and I cannot as yet
perceive any.

"`You may probably answer, that the proposed end, the promised
reward, of virtue, is infinitely superior to that of love? No
one disputes it, but that is not the question--we are only
discussing the relative aid they both afford in the endurance of
affliction. Judge of that by the practical effect: are there not
multitudes who abandon a life of strict virtue? how few give up
the pursuits of love!

"`Again, you will reply that if there be difficulties in the
exercise of virtue, they are by no means universal and sure; that
the good man does not necessarily meet tyrants and tortures, and
that, on the contrary, a life of virtue is perfectly compatible
with repose and enjoyment. I can say with equal truth, that love
is often accompanied by content and happiness; and what makes
another distinction of infinite advantage to my argument, I may
add that love, though it often deludes, never holds out other
than hopes of bliss and joy, whilst religion exacts from her
votaries mortification and sorrow.

"`Do not be alarmed,' said I, perceiving that I had almost
offended his zealous feelings of devotion. `I only wish to say,
that there is no more unsuccessful method of weaning man's heart
from love, than by endeavouring to decry its enjoyments, and by
promising him more pleasure from the exercise of virtue. It is
an inherent principle in our nature, that our felicity consists
only in pleasure. I defy you to conceive any other notion of it;
and it requires little time to arrive at the conviction, that, of
all pleasures, those of love are immeasurably the most
enchanting. A man quickly discerns the delusion, when he hears
the promise made of livelier enjoyment, and the effect of such
misrepresentation is only to make him doubt the truth of a more
solid promise.

"`Let the preacher who seeks the reformation of a sinner tell
me that virtue is indispensably necessary, but not disguise its
difficulty and its attendant denials. Say that the enjoyments of
love are fleeting, if you will, that they are rigidly forbidden,
that they lead with certainty to eternal suffering; and, what
would assuredly make a deeper impression upon me than any other
argument, say that the more sweet and delectable they are, the
brighter will be the reward of Heaven for giving them up in
sacrifice; but do in the name of justice admit, that, constituted
as the heart of man is, they form here, on earth, our most
perfect happiness.'

"My last sentence restored to Tiberge his good humour. He
allowed that my ideas were not altogether so unreasonable. The
only point he made, was in asking me why I did not carry my own
principle into operation, by sacrificing my passion to the hope
of that remuneration of which I had drawn so brilliant a picture.
`Oh! my dear friend,' replied I; `that it is which makes me
conscious of my own misery and weakness: true, alas! it is indeed
my duty to act according to my argument; but have I the power of
governing my own actions? What aid will enable me to forget
Manon's charms?' 'God forgive me,' said Tiberge, `I can almost
fancy you a Jansenist[1]. `I know not of what sect I am,'
replied I, `nor do I indeed very clearly see to which I ought to
belong; but I cannot help feeling the truth of this at least of
their tenets.'

[1] The first proposition of the Jansenists was, that there are
divine precepts which good men, notwithstanding their desire to
observe them, are nevertheless absolutely unable to obey: God not
having given them such a measure of grace as is essentially
necessary to render them capable of obedience.--Mosheim's Eccles.
Hist., ii. 397.

"One effect of our conversation was to revive my friend's pity
for me in all its force. He perceived that there was in my
errors more of weakness than of vice; and he was the more
disposed in the end to give me assistance; without which I should
infallibly have perished from distress of mind. However, I
carefully concealed from him my intention of escaping from St.
Lazare. I merely begged of him to take charge of my letter; I
had it ready before he came, and I soon found an excuse for the
necessity of writing. He faithfully transmitted it, and Lescaut
received before evening the one I had enclosed for him.

"He came to see me next morning, and fortunately was admitted
under my brother's name. I was overjoyed at finding him in my
room. I carefully closed the door. `Let us lose no time,' I
said. `First tell me about Manon, and then advise me how I am to
shake off these fetters.' He assured me that he had not seen his
sister since the day before my arrest, and that it was only by
repeated enquiries, and after much trouble, that he had at length
been able to discover her fate as well as mine; and that he had
two or three times presented himself at the Magdalen, and been
refused admittance. `Wretch!' muttered I to myself, `dearly
shall G---- M---- pay for this!'

"`As to your escape,' continued Lescaut, `it will not be so easy
as you imagine. Last evening, I and a couple of friends walked
round this establishment to reconnoitre it; and we agreed that,
as your windows looked into a court surrounded by buildings, as
you yourself mentioned in your letter, there would be vast
difficulty in getting you out. Besides, you are on the third
story, and it would be impossible to introduce ropes or ladders
through the window. I therefore see no means from without--in
the house itself we must hit upon some scheme.'

"`No,' replied I; `I have examined everything minutely,
particularly since, through the governor's indulgence, my
confinement has been less rigorous. I am no longer locked into
my room; I have liberty to walk in the gallery; but there is,
upon every landing, a strong door kept closed night and day, so
that it is impossible that ingenuity alone, unaided by some
violent efforts, can rescue me.

"`Wait,' said I, after turning in my mind for a moment an idea
that struck me as excellent; `could you bring me a pistol?'
`Softly,' said Lescaut to me, `you don't think of committing
murder?' I assured him that I had so little intention of
shooting anyone, that it would not be even necessary to have the
pistol loaded. `Bring it to me tomorrow,' I added, `and do not
fail to be exactly opposite the great entrance with two or three
of your friends at eleven tomorrow night; I think I shall be able
to join you there.' He in vain requested me to explain my plan.
I told him that such an attempt as I contemplated could only
appear rational after it had succeeded. I begged of him to
shorten his visit, in order that he might with the less
difficulty be admitted next morning. He was accordingly admitted
as readily as on his first visit. He had put on so serious an
air, moreover, that a stranger would have taken him for a
respectable person.

"When I found in my hand the instrument of my liberty, I no
longer doubted my success. It was certainly a strange and a bold
project; but of what was I not capable, with the motives that
inspired me? I had, since I was allowed permission to walk in
the galleries, found opportunities of observing that every night
the porter brought the keys of all the doors to the governor, and
subsequently there always reigned a profound silence in the
house, which showed that the inmates had retired to rest. There
was an open communication between my room and that of the
Superior. My resolution was, if he refused quietly to surrender
the keys, to force him, by fear of the pistol, to deliver them
up, and then by their help to gain the street. I impatiently
awaited the moment for executing my purpose. The porter arrived
at his usual time, that is to say, soon after nine o'clock. I
allowed an hour to elapse, in order that the priests as well as
the servants might be all asleep. I at length proceeded with my
pistol and a lighted candle. I first gave a gentle tap at the
governor's door to awaken without alarming him. I knocked a
second time before he heard me; and supposing of course that it
was one of the priests who was taken ill and wanted assistance,
he got out of bed, dressed himself, and came to the door. He
had, however, the precaution to ask first who it was, and what
was wanted? I was obliged to mention my name, but I assumed a
plaintive tone, to make him believe that I was indisposed. `Ah!
it is you, my dear boy,' said he on opening the door; `what can
bring you here at this hour?' I stepped inside the door, and
leading him to the opposite side of the room, I declared to him
that it was absolutely impossible for me to remain longer at St.
Lazare; that the night was the most favourable time for going out
unobserved, and that I confidently expected, from his tried
friendship, that he would consent to open the gates for me, or
entrust me with the keys to let myself out.

"This compliment to his friendship seemed to surprise him. He
stood for a few moments looking at me without making any reply.
Finding that I had no time to lose, I just begged to assure him
that I had the most lively sense of all his kindnesses, but that
freedom was dearer to man than every other consideration,
especially so to me, who had been cruelly and unjustly deprived
of it; that I was resolved this night to recover it, cost what it
would, and fearing lest he might raise his voice and call for
assistance, I let him see the powerful incentive to silence which
I had kept concealed in my bosom. `A pistol!' cried he. `What!
my son? will you take away my life in return for the attentions I
have shown you?' `God forbid,' replied I; `you are too
reasonable to drive me to that horrible extremity: but I am
determined to be free, and so firmly determined, that if you
defeat my project, I will put an end to your existence.' `But,
my dear son!' said he, pale and frightened, `what have I done to
you? What reason have you for taking my life?' `No!' replied I,
impatiently, `I have no design upon your life, if you, yourself,
wish to live; open but the doors for me, and you will find me the
most attached of friends.' I perceived the keys upon the table.
I requested he would take them in his hand and walk before me,
making as little noise as he possibly could.

"He saw the necessity of consenting. We proceeded, and as he
opened each door, he repeated, always with a sigh, `Ah! my son,
who could have believed it?' `No noise, good Father, no noise,'
I as often answered in my turn. At length we reached a kind of
barrier, just inside the great entrance. I already fancied
myself free, and kept close behind the governor, with my candle
in one hand, and my pistol in the other.

"While he was endeavouring to open the heavy gate, one of the
servants, who slept in an adjoining room, hearing the noise of
the bolts, jumped out of bed, and peeped forth to see what was
passing. The good Father apparently thought him strong enough to
overpower me. He commanded him, most imprudently, to come to his
assistance. He was a powerful ruffian, and threw himself upon me
without an instant's hesitation. There was no time for
parleying--I levelled my pistol and lodged the contents in his
breast! `See, Father, of what mischief you have been the cause,'
said I to my guide; `but that must not prevent us from finishing
our work,' I added, pushing him on towards the last door. He did
not dare refuse to open it. I made my exit in perfect safety,
and, a few paces off, found Lescaut with two friends waiting for
me, according to his promise.

"We removed at once to a distance. Lescaut enquired whether he
had not heard the report of a pistol? `You are to blame,' said
I, `why did you bring it charged?' I, however, could not help
thanking him for having taken this precaution, without which I
doubtless must have continued much longer at St. Lazare. We went
to pass the night at a tavern, where I made up, in some degree,
for the miserable fare which had been doled out to me for nearly
three months. I was very far, however, from tasting perfect
enjoyment; Manon's sufferings were mine. `She must be released,'
said I to my companions: `this was my sole object in desiring my
own liberty. I rely on your aiding me with all your ingenuity;
as for myself, my life shall be devoted to the purpose.'

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