« La vertu qui se noie se raccroche quelquefois aux branches. »

« La vertu qui se noie se raccroche quelquefois aux branches. » turns a threatened moral surrender into an image of drowning and rescue. In the letter where it appears, the phrase warns that a near-conquest is not secure: a sudden hesitation may save virtue, and once it has escaped, it becomes harder to surprise again.

Image and Meaning

The sentence imagines virtue as someone drowning who grabs whatever branches are within reach. The branches stand for last-minute impediments or scruples: even a person close to yielding may find something to hold onto. The image makes resistance seem less like a settled triumph of principle than a precarious effort to keep from going under.

Place in the Letter

The maxim is part of an argument about a choice between a timid young lover and a more experienced woman. The letter’s speaker favors the young lover, reasoning that an opportunity for a first surrender may be lost if neglected. A fit of displeasure, a jealous suspicion, or even a smaller disturbance might interrupt the advance; if virtue regains its footing, the speaker warns, it will stay on its guard. The drowning image therefore gives urgency to the advice: apparent proximity to surrender is not a guarantee that it will happen.

Rhetorical Force

The line compresses a strategic warning into a vivid paradox. Virtue is portrayed as endangered, yet still capable of grasping at rescue; apparent weakness does not remove its power to resist. By treating a moral recovery as an escape that makes future surprise more difficult, the surrounding argument recasts hesitation as a decisive change in the pursuer’s prospects.