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III. Within the context
of pre-revolutionary France, the subjects of Pierre Choderlos de Laclos's
Liaisons Dangereuses support what Michel Foucault notes about the
literary trends of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. He claims
that in this period, there was a discursive accumulation of focusing on
the sins of nature and abnormality as opposed to the normal scope of marital
sex as a prominent subject (Reader 303-4). As part of this expanding
literature of transgression, Laclos's novel focuses on the subject of
the Erotic as cruelty and within this conception, the opposition of art,
craft, and consciousness with nature.
Laclos
goes beyond Foucault's general historical framework of transgression to
specifically thematize the destruction involved in the use of corrupt
reason to turn passion into a plaything. As Liaisons Dangereuses
traces the lines between passion and reason, the natural and the societal,
and the innocent and experienced, the Erotic is its prevailing undercurrent
which overturns societal laws, and functions both within the natural and
the reflecting world. Octavio Paz, notes in Love and Eroticism
that sex threatens society as it combines the tumultuous contradictions
of creation and destruction and ignores all hierarchies of law. In the
world that Laclos creates, the primary laws of the virtuous are the abstract
constraints of marriage which are set up to maintain only proper conjugal
sexual relations. Yet within the novel, no marital relations exist in
action, but only as constraints of discursive repression. Their alternative,
illicit affairs abound in the novel, and therefore, the entire intrigue
rests on these transgressions which as Erotic, set nature against culture
and are supreme above both.
As
they are the rational beings who stimulate these affairs, the Vicomte
de Valmont and the Marquise de Merteuil act with the force of the Erotic
to destroy the serenity of nature and the conventions of culture through
their machinations. These main characters' conflicts with both pure nature
and absolute prohibition cause them to work towards the sentimental ideal
which Friedrich Schiller explores in "On Naïve and Sentimental Poetry."
As Laclos (1741-1803) and Schiller (1759-1805) were contemporaries, it
is likely that their thoughts and revelations on certain issues were spurred
by similar historical and cultural sources.
The
provocation of Schiller's sentimental ideal is first from his interest
in nature and its opposition to art. For Schiller, the world of reflected
thought, art, and reason are affected aspects of the "depraved world"
(Schiller 187) which is separate from the golden past from which the modern
world is separated. The well-crafted plans of the Vicomte and Marquise
adopt fully the characteristics that Schiller ascribes to the affectation
of art. For him, art does not contain the resonances of aesthetics and
beauty that are often thought of today, but is better explained as "craft"
or as a "Human effort to imitate, supplement, alter, or counteract
the work of nature." With this denotation, art as craft is decisively
opposed to the harmonious nature as it consciously tries to change it.
Schiller's
conception of craft as artificial as opposed to the truthfulness of nature,
which has no conscious need for deceit, is part of his valorization of
Nature. His conception of sentimental longing for the lost nature does
not function in wanting to change places with it, but through a sentimental
ideal, means to take up its unlimited example of innocence, while realizing
that one can never return to its wholeness (Schiller 193).
Laclos
agrees with the impossibility of a return to a natural innocence, and
by portraying the character of Cécile Volanges at the beginning
of the novel, reflects the closest thing to the unblemished natural: the
naïve. Coming into the larger part of society from a cloistered world,
Cécile is a perfect example of Schiller's conception of the naïve:
The naïve manner of thinking
can thus never be a property of a degenerate human being; it can only
be an attribute of children and people with a childlike disposition.
The latter act and think naïvely, often right in the middle of sophisticated
contexts of the larger world. Because of their own beautiful humanness
they forget that they have to deal with a depraved world and they
behave
with an ingenuousness and innocence such as one finds
only in a pastoral world. (Schiller 187)
Cécile, only starting
to bloom from childhood, retains the virtue of the convent she was in,
and with a lack of knowledge of the "sophisticated" world, acts
naïvely in her trust. Her character of innocence does not automatically
doubt people's intentions, but naturally trusts, and as the naïve
being in Schiller, acts immediately without reflection, and without realizing
that she is within a "depraved world" (Schiller 187). For Laclos, as the natural
is eternally separated, the naïve cannot exist in conjunction with society,
for as nature is destroyed by the foundation of consciousness and work,
so is the naïve liable to be corrupted. The innocent character Cécile
is forced into experience by both the conventions of different institutions
which surround her and the manipulations of the king and queen of the
chessboard who exploit her as a pawn in their plans. In Laclos, nature
has no part within the pre-Revolutionary aristocratic French society except
to be an example of naïveté and a contrast to corruption. Naïveté,
thrown into the context of a world that has fallen into consciousness
and reflective alterations, will undoubtedly be tainted. As within Schiller's sentimentality,
the Marquise and the Vicomte recognize that they are in a fallen world
and, as depraved in an absolute contrast to innocent nature, they accept
that they can never return. Being caught in this absolute loss, they take
advantage of their separation from nature as an acknowledgement of experience,
rationality, and freedom. With these forces of power, the Vicomte and
Marquise can use Cécile's innocence for their purposes. Through
their careful scheming in Liaisons Dangereuses, they intend to
use their art with nature and convention on their palettes to paint out
their plans for pleasure. As they are consciously reflective, they can
choose and carefully construct their plans using nature and the naïve
within the constructs of its opposition: convention. Both the Vicomte and Marquise
aim for absolute supremacy on the fields of sexual power, revenge and
control. Because neither is ruled by the morals and conventions which
surround them, both can use these with planned deceit to fulfill their
desires through an extremely rationalized chess-game of strategy. The
main, nameable conventions at stake are morality, decency and marriage.
These become tools for the Marquise and the Vicomte's craft to construct
into part of a vaster rational strategy which creates its own rules to
structure its play of the Erotic. As the Christian morality goes
hand in hand with that of marriage, the aim of artful reason is to integrate
the two against the innocent Cécile Volanges. The Marquise, specifically,
works with Cécile's innocent curiosity to make the impending thought
of marriage a motivation for her to gain experience before its bonds confine
her. The social conventions around the institution of marriage as a rite
of passage are thus reframed by the Marquise who sees them as a terminal
end to pleasure. Instead of through the act of marriage itself, which
never occurs in the novel, the step from innocence to experience is guided
through the Marquise's ploys to give Cécile her own type of education.
Marriage, as a defining institutional bond, is an impending source of
decisive action for the characters, and it is around what the Madame de
Merteuil and Vicomte de Valmont spin their webs. On the side of convention,
marriage is separate from nature, as its contracts and oaths put it into
the extreme conscious restraints that is called affected art in Schiller's
conception. The gap that Schiller notes, of the "tremendous distance
between our deeds and nature's simplicity and truth" (Schiller 182),
is illustrated in the opposition of Cécile's naïveté in
Liaisons Dangereuses with both the virtuous side which demands
that she act certain ways, and the corrupt side for which she is a pawn
in a rational game of destruction. The invocation of this contrast brings
forth Schiller's necessity that "nature must contrast with art and
put it to shame" (Schiller 180). Cécile's destruction in the
end does put the reason and virtue of the characters to shame, as it reveals
the damaging effects of their alterations of her natural character. Cécile's separation
from the "virtue" of the other characters is clear in her naïve
concept of morality, which assumes that she should be good to all, but
doesn't understand how, with convention, there are appropriate and inappropriate
times to be kind-hearted. On her problem of whether or not to give the
Chevalier the charity of her affection, she remarks, ''Je voudrais bien
le consoler; mais je ne voudrais rien faire qui fût mal. On nous recommande
tant d'avoir bon coeur! et puis on nous défend de suivre ce qu'il
inspire, quand c'est pour un homme! «a n'est pas juste non plus."
Cécile's desire to assuage another's suffering is part of her morality
of feeling, which is devoted to a particular person. Because of her genuine
nature of trust, and more importantly her sensual openness, she is untainted
by the social restraints of order and hierarchy, and does not understand
a general morality of law. As she feels compassion for the Chevalier Danceny's
suffering, she feels that she should soothe him with her love. Like the
natural character of the naïve acts in Schiller, Cécile "looks
simply at the need and at the means closest at hand for satisfying it"
(Schiller 186). She does not understand any inherent danger in respecting
an absolute Christian virtue of charity, if it could mitigate the suffering
of another. Cécile's morality, though
influenced by Christian ideals as are that of the other pious women in
the book, is not have the same basis for its actions. Schiller notes that
the childlike character "is chaste because nature always is,
but it is not proper since only what is profane is proper"
(Schiller 189). The basis of any fear she has for the consequences of
her actions is the social opinion and chastisement that she receives most
directly from her mother and the Marquise de Merteuil. It is these sources
which maintains some function of morality(or later, immorality) and are
guides of how to act in the world. Because the guide which the Marquise
offers is similar to her mother's, and both her main connections to the
world of experience, Cécile takes it with a naïve faith that she
does all with the instruction of all the guidance she encounters. In this
way, the Marquise can use the power of convention for her own purposes,
and convince her that these are just the way that things are done. For
Cécile, there is no reason to act otherwise than those who seem
to know more tell her to do, for she is enrapt in the innocence that assumes
an original goodness of all. Her innocent naïveté
is apparent, as for the naïves in Schiller, by her position of being situated
within a sophisticated context. Cécile's difference from this context
is made very evident and even comical with the start of change from the
convent, which she describes in the first letter of the novel. She faces
the dilemma of being thrust into the new world by her mother when she
is supposedly ready for marriage. Because Cécile is ready yet is
not immediately wed, she lacks the second protective cloister of wedlock.
The marriage's delay makes her vulnerable naïveté all the more
visible, as she is separated from her accustomed surroundings, and acts
"awkward" or "gauche" admist those who are worldly-versed.
Being thrust into the depraved world, she waits and, unprotected, is lead
toward the dangerous combination of being curious about the world and
being surrounded by those forces who have craft at their disposal to use
her naïveté as a means for their art. Cécile knows, as she
reveals to her correspondent, Sophie Carnay, that those people already
in society put her wait for marriage in terms of developing experience.
She remarks that someone compares her development to that of a fruit,
as she thinks she heard someone say about her in letter 3, "Il faut
laisser mûrir cela, nous verrons cet hiver." Cécile's future
is put in terms of ripening, which at the end gains the possibility of
being a rottening. When her context in these terms are intermingled with
the chain of letters exchanged by the Vicomte de Valmont and Madame de
Merteuil, we see the crux of the force that causes the fruit to ripen,
get bruised, and sometimes fall off of the tree to whither and die. It is clear in their plans
are completely unconcerned for Cécile Volanges as a subject,
and completely obsessed with her as only an item for use as a sexual
revenge on her future husband, the Compte de Gercourt. Their plot works
toward her premature ripening in order to destroy her as an unblemished,
virginal object for her husband. As Valmont and Merteuil's plans are part
of the Erotic's creativity, they are a playful transformation of work
to use the necessary pieces to reach a goal. For them, using the craft
of the Erotic through rationality functions as power, tenacity, and single-minded
disconcern for those whom it destroys. The complexity of the Marquise's
schemes and philosophy reveals much of how she works as a sentimental
being to set convention against nature. Her portrait, painted through
her candor in her letters to the Vicomte de Valmont can help to elaborate
this set-up. The Marquise writes, "Rien ne m'amuse comme un désespoir
amoureux. Il m'appellerait perfide, et ce mot de perfide m'a toujours
fait plaisir ; c'est, après celui de cruelle, le plus doux à l'oreille
d'une femme, et il est moins pénible à mériter." The
Marquise de Merteuil's falsity overwhelms her characteristics above all.
As opposed to the naïve nature, she always thinks of the consequences
of any of her actions, looks and words, and aims to direct each to her
specific aims. It is for this reason that she is the virtuoso of deceit
and finds it easy to deserve being called perfide and finds it
laughable to play her guile against the powerlessness of one who is guided
by the sensual aspect of love. What the Marquise truly wants
in relationships, which she can accomplish through the deliberation of
her deception, is to maintain cruelty. Being cruel, she has power over
the opposite sex and can withhold her favors in order to get what she
wants. She does this with the Vicomte de Valmont specifically in order
to get him to sexually corrupt Cécile. In this way, cruelty for
her can be a tool used for other means as well as an amusing way to torture
others for her pleasure. At the end of the novel, we
find the truth about how the Marquise developed her character through
experience. She started as Cécile did, with an original innocence
which gradually fell into depravity as she gained experience. Because
she is well-aware of her origin, and that it is distantly behind her,
the Marquise must use her sentimentality to act within the constructs
of the corrupt world. The final revelations hold up her ripening/rotting
as a mold into which she had been trying to form the innocent Cécile,
a mirror of her youth. With such a dynamic of these
characters reflecting each other, the Marquise de Merteuil's letter of
advice to Cécile after she has been deflowered by the Vicomte de
Valmont is staggeringly important to explain her formation into cold cruelty
after the fall into experience. In this letter, the fact of dulling the
pain and shame and feelings of love becomes evident as her prevalent way
of dealing with the depraved world. Mocking Cécile's naïveté,
the Marquise de Merteuil gives her this consolence for her shame: "Hé!
tranquillisez-vous; la honte que cause l'amour est comme sa douleur :
on ne l'éprouve qu'une fois. On peut encore la feindre après; mais
on ne la sent plus. Cependant le plaisir reste, et c'est bien quelque
chose." As an erotic purpose, for the Marquise, pleasure is the end-all
goal. To achieve it, the Marquise has contempt for pain and persuades
to Cécile to harden herself against it. As she relegates feeling
and sensuality to being only used as tools, shame and pain become only
petty reactions that hinder one. In her cruelty, the Marquise
is ultimately cold, and shows that she has survived under such guile by
her deceit and ability to numb so that only pleasure remains. Her erotic
strength rests in a cold control, ruled by reason that degrades nature
into for its sole purposes of pleasure and gaining power. The thought
behind this control maintains the need for purposeful craft through deceit.
The Marquise advises Cécile
about the way she writes in letter 105 to take on what Schiller describes
as the feminine need to please which has "the illusion of being naïve,"
yet is combined with the opposing convention of "adroitness in her
behavior" (Schiller 190). The Marquise admonishes her to:
Voyez donc à soigner davantage
votre style. Vous écrivez toujours comme un enfant. Je vois
bien d'où cela vient; c'est que vous dites tout ce que vous pensez,
et rien de ce que vous ne pensez pas. Cela peut passer ainsi de vous
à moi, qui devons n'avoir rien de caché l'une pour l'autre:
mais avec tout le monde! avec votre Amant surtout! Vous devez donc
moins chercher à lui dire ce que vous pensez, que ce qui lui plaît
davantage."
Her advice brings up another
key to her cold duplicity and absolute cruel control over the emotions,
which is the basis of her power in reason: the mask of style which hides
everything and silences the truth. The Marquise's need for control over
expression is significantly manifested in her stratagem of acting naïve
and moral as a woman, while also choosing carefully her speech ruled by
reason, to craft words which support the faÁade and conceal her purposes.
She finds that it is necessary only to show which will be useful (Laclos
179). The careful style of the main
characters is highlighted in the novel's very arrangement of letter-exchanges,
which allows us to see what meticulous choice of diction the Marquise
and the Vicomte could use to have certain effects. They are aware that,
especially in matters of passion, one should play each move with great
reflection. In writing, words can be chosen with the art of careful planning
and facility of deceit. Throughout the novel, their technique strikingly
contrasts Cécile's lack of their style. It is only when she comes
into the realm of experience and their "education" that her
letters change remarkably and her style and tone no longer highlights
the naïve, unhindered spontaneity of her character. As the experienced Marquise
mirrors a possible future for Cécile, their comparison highlights
a similar necessity which both have for using a mask, although realized
to a much different extent for each character. Although at first Cécile's
naïveté causes her to reveal all and to find incomprehensible any
imperative for hiding her thoughts, she does start to develop a mask similar
to the Marquise's to remain safe from her mother's disapproval. If she
does not do this, she realizes that she will be punished for liking the
Chevalier, and would not be able to see him or exchange letters with him
if the whole affair was discovered. As one unblemished, this germination
of lies reveals a the innocent origin of the Marquise before she developed
a habit of artful speech. With a need to conceal those things which would
bring her sensual character shame under the judgements of Christian morality
and society's conventions, the Marquise had to use the craft of the Erotic
to develop an icy exterior for protection. Instead of merely lying or
covering up past sins with virtuous repentance as the other women in the
novel, the Marquise finds pleasure in her erotic strength to create and
play, working outside of conventions' confines. She is proud of her transgressions
for they have shown her power to work above the limitations of nature's
sensuous innocence to be cruel and outside of convention's rules to be
crafty. Her ultimate power rested in the ability to use all without threat,
and by hiding anything that would be unfavorable to her, to deny herself
nothing. Liaisons Dangereuses clearly illustrates how the sovereign
Erotic can be manifested to sacrifice both functionality and sensuality
to achieve its conscious end in pleasure. The complex rational development
of the Vicomte and Marquise's schemes are focused towards a pleasure attained
through the game of appearances. Under the constraints of social manners,
the Marquise and Vicomte can only reach their excesses of pleasure through
the path of masked chess-plays. Appearances are vital as the skin of their
discourses of the Erotic, in which what is revealed can leave them vulnerable
just as their veils for expression can give power. This fragile balance
of power and vulnerability is evident in the fall of the Marquise's all-powerful
status when she has the secret confidence of many characters to its opposite
end in complete shame when she loses all after the letter exchange reveals
her schemes to the public. On the night after he molested
his little "pupil" Cécile, the Vicomte's description
of her to the Marquise brings up a second aspect of her fall into experience,
which reiterates the naïve difference between chastity and properness.
He remarks on how the second night she locked herself into her room, and
would not agree to be with him again. He finds it to be an enigma that
she is defending herself so late, and muses into the cause of her change:
"...sa petite grimace de toute la journée, je parierais qu'il
entre là-dedans du repentir quelque chose comme de la vertue ! c'est bien
à elle qu'il convient d'en avoir! " The Vicomte brings in the point
that her character is not right to have virtue, as is that of his beloved
Mme. de Tourvel. Virtue is not the automatically acquired trait of someone
who is chaste, but as a contrast to innocence, must be gained through
experience. The naïve character can be chaste, and follow its own passions,
but once it starts working under recognized principles which are developed,
then it falls onto the side that Schiller calls "proper." Within Schiller, this division
can be understood in the moral difference between the naïve and that of
rational Christian thought. The former is evoked in the Grecian theology
which is produced by "the inspiration of a naïve feeling, born of
a joyful imagination and not of brooding reason as is the belief of the
churches of modern nations" (Schiller 195). Reason, on the side of
convention, is part of both Mme. de Tourvel's adroit chastity of virtue
as much as it is that of the Marquise de Merteuil's falsity and cruelty.
In this way, both virtue and the rational scheming fall onto the opposing
side of the natural naïve because of their encounter with worldly experience.
Both sides take part of the
encounter with what Schiller calls the "artificial world" where
the laws have absolute importance (whether to be held sacred or to transgress)
as do the " laws of nature prevail in the world of innocence"
(Schiller 223). Both corruption and virtue then, must be gained through
the "brooding" of rationalizing experience and actions. While
both originate in the experience of a fall, virtue develops from its repentance
while cruelty develops from the transformation of its pain into the power
of the Erotic.
IV. In The Dialogic
Imagination, M. M. Bakhtin develops a dialogue of the dance and play
of texts with one another as well as their associations within the larger
discourses of their meanings in the context of culture and history. Julia
Kristeva elucidates in "Word, Dialogue and Novel" how these
discourses work in Bakhtin's dynamic conception by describing how his
"conception of the literary word'" is "an intersection
of textual surfaces rather than a point (a fixed meaning), as a dialogue
among several writings: that of the writer, the addressee (or the character)
and the contemporary or earlier cultural context" (Kristeva 36).
These intersections extend beyond the aforementioned sensual relation
formed by the text between the author and reader to a discursive relation
within larger contexts.
The
textual surface of Laclos's novel in its own cultural context had a special
resonance with its contemporary, Schiller's text (among many others).
In the cultural context of today, it gains different, shifting dialogues
with the other texts which arise and imitate its themes or style, and
with those that comment or are influenced by it in various ways. Although
there is no "fixed meaning" to be deciphered from a text, it
is a generator of meanings. Texts form various the allusions, reverberations
and characters from their individual contexts in culture and history as
they constantly interact and bounce off other texts through their dialogues.
Kristeva
explains how, in this way, the world which a text creates can communicate
constantly with other "writings," and that for Bakhtin, these
discursive texts form each other: "...any text is constructed as
a mosaic of quotations; any text is the absorption and transformation
of another" (Kristeva 37). The meaning of a text changes dramatically
within different cultural perspectives as well as within different readers.
The readers of Laclos in the eighteenth century were sure to find different
meanings and importance in his novel than those of today, for their cultural
contexts and literatures that influenced that period had a literary air
which hung with dramatically different dialogues than those of the twentieth
century. The dialogue of any text creates multiple associations which
surround it and makes its texture link and rub against its surrounding
fabrics of signification.
The
dialogical relationships between texts take part of their strength from
the foundations of historical narratives which effuse each new thought
with its relation to past meanings. Even when a subject is not noted directly,
there is what Bakhtin calls an "alien utterance" which speaks
about it. In Venus in Furs, by Sacher-Masoch, one such "utterance"
is its continual referral back to the basis of an erotic history which,
though not explicitly noted, includes Laclos's Liaisons Dangereuses.
These "alien utterances" within the textual structures both
refer back to a historical discourse and found a present one.
Sacher-Masoch's
macrocosm of cultural resonances includes both the utterances of the past
and those of the context of the nineteenth century which framed his art
with repressive attitudes about sexuality. As Miller notes in Erotic
Literature, the age of sexual repression didn't merely involve the
censorship of silence, but was also a time of a great conversion of sex
into discourse as the boundaries for it were augmented (Miller 220).
Even when the subject of sex was obscured in Venus in Furs, it
was still at the forefront as an issue of ever-increasing interest within
its cultural context.
As
one dialogue out of many texts, the social attitudes of his time formed
a specific aura around Sacher-Masoch's work that highlighted its lack
of physical descriptions and intensified its tense pauses that skimmed
around subjects of the Erotic. The multiplicity of voices which surrounding
the text, both of current and historical "writings" evokes a
dynamic world from it. The history of thought on the Erotic was just as
influential on Laclos and Sacher-Masoch as is their individual changes
or reinforcements of it.
It
is for this reason that Sacher-Masoch's frozen sensuality appropriately
reflected the period during which he was writing. His design is fulfilled
through his cold stylistic reflection which protects and reemphasizes
the inner subject he handles: that cold sentimentality allows sensuality
to remain distant under its fur. It is his contrast with the accumulating
sexual discourses of his time which set apart his art as cruelly silent
on the erotic subjects that it hides. Under an icy reticence, Sacher-Masoch
treats the experience of the Erotic's intrigue, passion, and intensity
as a distant warmth, for which he holds a sentimental respect. Though
the body for him has a physical nature, its descriptions are secondary
to the spirit and the contemplations which animates it.
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