The Story of Manon Lescaut and the Chevalier Des Grieux/Author's Preface

I might have introduced the Adventures of the Chevalier des Grieux in my own Memoirs, it seemed to me that, as there was no necessary connection between the two, the reader would find it more satisfactory to have them separately. The thread of my own story would have been too much interrupted by a digression of such length. Far as I am from laying any claim to precision as a writer, I am yet well aware that a narrative should be free from details which render it cumbersome and involved. To quote the maxim of Horace: Ut jam nunc dicat jam nunc debentia dici, Pleraque differat et præsens in tempus omittat."

Indeed, so weighty an authority is not needed to establish so simple a truth; for this rule has its origin in common-sense.

If the story of my life afforded the public some interest and entertainment, I may venture to promise them equal pleasure in the perusal of the present sequel to it. They will find, in the adventures of M. des Grieux, a terrible example of the tyranny of the passions. I have before me the task of depicting a headstrong youth who rejects happiness, to plunge of his own accord into the deepest misery; who, possessed of every quality necessary for the attainment of brilliant distinction, yet, of his own choice, prefers an obscure and roving lift to all the advantages which nature and fortune have placed at his command; who foresees the sorrows which await him, without making an effort to avert them ; who feels them so keenly as to be overwhelmed by them, and yet dees not avail himself of the remedies which are continually offered him, and which might at any moment bring them to an end: in short, a character made up of contradictions; a mixture of vices and of virtues, a perpetual contrast of lofty sentiments and of unworthy conduct—such is the groundwork of the picture which I am about to present.

To judicious minds, a work of this nature will not appear a waste of labor. Besides the entertainment to be derived from its perusal, it will be found to contain but few incidents that may not be turned to good account as lessons in morality; and I take it to be no slight service to the public to instruct and amuse them at the same time.

No one who reflects over the precepts of morality can fail to be amazed at observing how they are at once both honored and neglected; or to ask himself the reason of this strange capriciousness of the human heart, which leads it to delight in ideals of virtue and perfection, only to deviate from them in practice. Let any one of a fair degree of intelligence and cultivation consider what is the most frequent subject of his conversations, or even of his solitary meditations. He will readily perceive that they nearly always turn upon some moral theme. The most delightful moments of his life are those which he spends, either in solitude or with some friend, in open-hearted communion on the charms of virtue, the joys of friendship, the means of attaining happiness, the frailties of our nature, which alienate us from it, and the remedies by which they may be counteracted. Horace and Boileau allude to such converse as one of the most beautiful among the features which they include in their pictures of a happy life. How comes it, then, that one falls so easily from these lofty speculations, and so soon finds one's self on a level with the common run of mankind? I am much deceived if the reason I am about to allege for it does not fully explain this contradiction between our ideals and our actions. It is this: all the precepts of morality being no more than vague and general principles, there is great difficulty in applying them specifically to the details of life and duty.

Let us illustrate the matter by an example. All generous natures feel that benevolence and humanity are estimable virtues, and are eager to display them. At the very moment for putting them into practice, however, they often pause and hesitate, debating whether this be indeed a proper occasion for their exercise, not being quite sure as to how far hey should be carried, and doubting whether the object may not be a mistaken one. A hundred diiflculties obtrude themselves, such as the fear of being duped when desirous of being charitable and generous; of betraying weakness by appearing too tender-hearted and impressible; in a word, of exceeding or of falling short of the duties which are too vaguely comprised in the terms "humanity" and "benevolence." In such uncertainty, only previous experience or example can be relied upon to guide the impulse of the heart to a wise decision. Now, this needful experience is an advantage which, cannot be freely acquired by every one. It is dependent upon the surroundings amid which our lot may have been cast, and these differ in the case of every one of us.

A vast number of persons, therefore, are left with nothing but precedent to serve them as a standard in the practice of virtue.

It is precisely this class of readers to whom works of the present nature are likely to prove of the utmost benefit; if their author, that is to say, be a man of strict rectitude and good judgment. Each incident related in them carries with it a certain degree of enlightenment, and serves as a lesson to supply the place of experience. In each adventure may be found an example for imitation; all that is lacking is its application to the circumstances of the individual case. The whole work, in fact, may be regarded as a treatise on moraUty, pleasantly reduced into practice. There may, perchance, be readers austere enough to think that it ill-beseems a man of my years to take up his pen for the purpose of relating a story of love and adventure. To all such I would say that if there be any truth in the above reflections, I need no other justification; while, if they be false, my error must be my excuse.