1/ It was clearly a mistake to neglect French literature for so long.
Up till now, the writer I’ve read who seems to have the best understanding of longing and sexual desire and especially female sexuality is Chekhov. But as a writer in Tsarist Russia, he couldn’t be very direct, and Laclos also has an advantage over him that we follow his characters for 400 pages.
(Went for the original title in my headline so the alliteration works better—see, I think about little things).
2/ Under my previous blog post about Dangerous Liaisons, Cathy Young wrote:
“It took me several readings to notice this, but I think Valmont’s actions toward Cecile are very substantially motivated by the need to have a “victory” to counter Merteuil’s victory over Prevan.
[…] I think he waits to write back to Merteuil after he has a “success” of his own to report, especially since she’s been zinging him so much about his lack of success with Tourvel. Also notable: he starts putting the Cécile plan into action shortly after Merteuil sends him the long autobiographical letter in which she is absolutely brutal in putting him in his place and affirming her superiority, and which she concludes with, “As for Prévan, I want him, and I’ll have him; he wants to tell, and he won’t. That is our story.” That letter is sent on Sept. 20; Valmont presumably receives it Sept. 21; his letter to Cécile is sent Sept. 24, presumably after he’s had a bit of time to come up with the scheme with the second key. So I think he knows by then that Merteuil will succeed and is planning his own “victory” to match hers and maybe even beat her to it (but his plan is delayed because Cécile initially refuses).”
That’s a very good point.
Cathy also pointed out the parallels between the Valmont – Cécile scene and the Merteuil – Prévan scene, and between the Merteuil – Prévan plot and the Valmont – Tourvel plot. Again, these are great observations—you should read her comments for yourself.
Nothing to add, so I’ll make a different point: I think Merteuil seduces Danceny partly because she’s jealous of Cécile; partly because she wants to test her own power of seduction (as some women out there steal someone’s man just to prove that they can); partly because she wants Valmont to be jealous; and partly because she wants to triumph over Valmont, who won Cécile’s body but not her heart and not even her head.
3/ Since Hadrian’s comments under my first blog post about Dangerous Liaisons, I’ve been toying with the idea that Valmont is not as attractive and seductive as he portrays himself to be.
Let’s see. Valmont is meant to seduce Cécile and Tourvel. Even if you don’t want to say Valmont rapes Cécile, he lays a trap for her, puts pressure on her, threatens her about reputation, and essentially forces himself on her.
Now look at his “conquest” of Tourvel:
“At this last word she threw herself or rather fell into my arms in a faint. As I was still doubtful of such a happy outcome, I pretended to be dreadfully alarmed. But at the same time I was leaving her or carrying her towards the place I had designed before as the field of victory. And, in fact, she only regained consciousness having already submitted and surrendered to her happy conqueror.” (Letter 125)
(translated by Helen Constantine)
Is that victory? In both cases, they yield after he forces himself on them—Cécile previously had no interest in him and Tourvel was resisting—it’s only after the sex that they yield, but Cécile is a 15-year-old virgin and Tourvel is sexually unfulfilled (where is the husband?) and vulnerable. They’re vulnerable like Natasha when separated from Andrei. Yes, Tourvel has fallen for Valmont, but you may have feelings for someone and not act on them.
Having said that, I still think John Malkovich is wrong for the role—Valmont has to be attractive—I’m merely pointing out that his two victories are not quite triumphs as he presents them to be.
4/ For some time, I thought I understood Merteuil better than I understood Valmont. What kind of woman, however self-assured, would enjoy hearing a man with whom she has been involved speak in such praise about another woman? What kind of woman, however slutty, would enjoy being taken for granted and expected to run like a dog whenever some man calls? Laclos depicts so well her jealousy, her sense of rivalry, her wounded pride, her competitiveness and vengefulness, her need to triumph over Tourvel and to have control over Valmont, her love of freedom and of power. I even get why, when Valmont gives her an ultimatum, Merteuil chooses war, knowing it would ruin everybody involved.
So for some time, I didn’t quite get Valmont, but now I do. To steal Hadrian’s ideas, this is a twisted love triangle—Tourvel appeals to the human side of Valmont and Merteuil attracts the demonic side, but that demonic side is so ingrained in him that he suppresses and denies and rejects his own love for Tourvel, to a disastrous end. He thinks he knows himself, but he does not—until it’s too late.
5/ In Dangerous Liaisons, the characters all change. The most fascinating change is the deceitful, manipulative Valmont becoming more human, as his foil—the supposedly romantic and noble Danceny—turns out to be a false lover. Look at his letters to Merteuil! What kind of love does he have for Cécile that she is so easily supplanted? Cécile may be unfaithful to him physically, but he betrays her physically and emotionally.
(With whom does he mean when Danceny writes in Letter 174 that he’s no longer in love?)
6/ Now that I have finished reading Choderlos de Laclos’s book, I can say that it’s the greatest epistolary novel I’ve read, and the greatest novel about sexual desire, manipulation, and power.
It is also better than the films. It’s no wonder that Dangerous Liaisons has been adapted so many times, as Laclos creates two of the most devious, cunning, and memorable characters in fiction, and there’s a timeless appeal about their sex games—manipulating others for each other’s amusement and then manipulating each other. But it’s in the book where you can see the subtlety of characterisation, the different voices these characters adopt for different readers, the lies they tell others and tell themselves, the uncertainty about whether they’re being honest or playing a role. Laclos exploits the full potential of the epistolary form.
Magnificent novel.
I feel odd commenting because I’ve never read the book. But I think I still need some convincing that this is a book I would enjoy.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds extraordinarily well written, but didn’t you find the ugliness and corruption of the characters off-putting? I recall, in reading Madame Bovary, feeling like the novel was extremely well-written and a deeply insightful picture of people whom I didn’t like and didn’t want to know (and maybe I’m wrong, but I felt Flaubert felt the same way.) Corrupt or ugly people can be fun to read about of course, but I find I don’t love books where they are the prime focus. There’s a novel by Trollope called The Eustace Diamonds that suffers from this problem; the main character is more or less a sociopath, and I find Thai tire of her company. Vanity Fair is a counter example, I suppose, but then Becky Sharp is just one character, and there are some other redeeming central characters in that novel that balance her out. Perhaps I’m just an unsophisticated and puritanical American, I don’t know. But Does Laclos have any redeeming central characters? I guess I just need some convincing that I’d enjoy it.
(Sorry about the typos)
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DeleteSorry! Deleted and reposting. :)
DeleteAs a huge fan of the book, I would say (and I don't know if Di agrees) that in a sense, however tragically, love triumphs over ugliness, and the manipulative central characters finally admit (openly or implicitly) that their cruel ethos is hollow and brings only misery.
I warn you that I could talk about this novel forever! ;-) And I totally agree with your assessment overall.
ReplyDeleteRe Valmont's sexual success, I already commented on this in the thread on your other post, but I think the fact that he's attractive, charming, and successful with women is repeatedly established. (Merteuil rejects him, yes, but she was his mistress before and rejects him for very complicated and ambiguous reasons.) In Letter 81 when Merteuil tells him off in rather brutal terms, she tells him that there's no merit in his sexual conquests because the deck is stacked in his favor: among other things, he has good looks and social graces. Later on, near the end, she tells him that he used to be the most charming man she ever knew and all she wants (in order to take him back) is to find him charming again.
A lot of things in the novel are ambiguous. Whether Valmont is attractive and successful with women is not one of them, IMO. (Merteuil does teasingly suggest at one point that some of his conquests are fictitious, but also makes it clear in the same line that there are a lot of real ones: she tells him that if his reputation as an irresistible libertine takes a hit, "Consider that among the multitude of women you have flaunted, the ones you haven't had will try to undeceive the public, while the rest will make an effort to deceive it.")
Oh, and also, in the course of the novel, he easily persuades a former mistress (the "vicomtesse de M.") to have sex with him while giving her current lover the boot for the night, AND gets an invitation from another former mistress (the "comtesse de B.") to visit. So yeah, it's pretty clear that his success with women is not a fiction.
Incidentally, in my readings of scholarly literature about Liaisons, I once came across an article arguing that the clue to Merteuil's behavior is that she's getting old and she knows it, and that the real reason she's keeping Valmont at bay is that she's afraid that if she has sex with him, he will realize that he no longer finds her attractive. That also struck me as singularly unconvincing. First of all, everyone seems to find her attractive. Secondly, she explicitly refers to herself as a "young woman" in her letter to Mme. de Volanges where she tells the "official" version of the Prévan story. ("What a misfortune to be a young woman! She can put herself beyond the reach of gossip, and that's still not enough: she must also keep slander at bay.") The passage where Merteuil writes about old women also strongly suggests that she's not thinking of joining their ranks anytime soon.
(FWIW, I think of both Valmont and Merteuil as being around 30.)
Cathy,
DeleteNo, I agree with you that Valmont is charming and seductive. His success with women is established. I just mean that in these specific cases, his victories are not quite triumphs. Cécile, probably because he, as you said, wants to score points against Merteuil and has to do it quickly. Tourvel, I have to think some more about what you wrote in the other comment.
Valmont and Merteuil as being around 30! Around my age? Now clearly the casting of John Malkovich and Glenn Close has messed with my head, but there's no indication of their age in the novel, is there?
No, and it's interesting that so many other characters' ages are indicated: Cécile is 15, Danceny is 20, Tourvel is 22, Rosemonde is 84, Gercourt is 36. (About Volanges, we know only that Valmont regards her as past her expiration date -- when he learns that she's the one who's been badmouthing him to Tourvel, he basically says that since she's too old for revenge via seduction/sex scandal, she must be punished by having her daughter ruined. That would suggest she's over 40, so Cécile was probably a late child for that time and social circle!)
DeleteAnyway, re Valmont and Merteuil's ages: as I said, Merteuil refers to herself as a "young woman" in her letter to Volanges. In her little dissertation on old women in the letter to Valmont, she says that women start losing their sexual value after 40 and it generally takes them until 50 to accept that they're done with sex and romance. She's definitely not talking as someone who is approaching that point. Also, at one point she writes to Danceny, "You choose your mistresses so young that you've made me notice for the first time that I am starting to get old." I'm pretty sure this is passive-aggressive (the point is to make him think she's *not* old), but also: she's "starting to get old" only by comparison to a 15-year-old. So yeah, my hunch is that she's under 30.
It's a little tougher with Valmont. He clearly regards himself as mature: he says Tourvel has restored to him "the charming illusions of youth"; elsewhere he says that he "yielded to a young man's impulse" in kissing the letter that made him realize Tourvel has fallen for him; there's also the line he balks at the idea of being "mastered, at my age, by an unfamiliar and involuntary feeling." But who knows what he means by "young" in this context -- he could be thinking of 18-20, Danceny's age basically. I would say a little over 30? It's clear that no one sees him as an older man, and Bertrand regards his death as extremely untimely.
I wonder if Laclos didn't specify Valmont's and Merteuil's ages because he wanted them to be more... archetypal?
(I should add that I've thought this out carefully because I recently finished writing a DL-based novel [which basically averts the catastrophic ending, draws out the Valmont/Tourvel/Merteuil triangle and eventually takes the story into the French Revolution] for which I had to establish Valmont's and Merteuil's ages within the story - obviously this doesn't reflect whatever Laclos's idea was, but I finally set them at 30 for Valmont and 29 for Merteuil.)
It's crazy how well you know Dangerous Liaisons hahaha.
DeleteBut yes, it makes sense that Merteuil should be around 30 or even young. So younger than me! So odd. I have to get Glenn Close out of my head. That's the problem with adaptations. Like, the film adaptations make you think Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice is quite old, but she's 25!
I guess Valmont is slightly over 30.
I need to forget about the film.
I think that physically Colin Firth and Annette Benning were much better cast in "Valmont." https://www.shutterstock.com/editorial/image-editorial/valmont-fairuza-balk-colin-firth-annette-bening-1649822a
DeleteWell, Colin Firth is *the* Mr Darcy, so...
DeleteAlso: excellent analysis of why Merteuil takes up with Danceny.
ReplyDeleteI do think she's jealous of Cécile, but why is an interesting question.
I'm leaning toward the view that Valmont's infatuation with Tourvel (which Merteuil perceives as "love" early on) triggers Merteuil's sexual jealousy, not only with regard to Tourvel but toward Valmont's other partners. (At least I assume it's triggered at that point; since they've been sharing sexual adventures for a while, it can't have been her attitude all along!) Note, for instance, that when he tells her about his adventure with the vicomtesse, her first reaction is basically "Let's feed it to the gossip mill and trash her reputation." (Her excuse, that she wants a pretext to drop the vicomtesse from her circle because Belleroche finds her too attractive, sounds very flimsy since she obviously doesn't count Belleroche for much.) Also, her attitude toward Cécile changes abruptly after Cécile loses her virginity to Valmont, from affection to contempt and hostility. Her own explanation for this is that she "washes her hands" of Cécile because she thought sexual initiation would basically make her grow up, but that hasn't happened, and she's realized that Cécile is a ditz whom she will never be able to groom into her mini-me. But jealousy is just as good an explanation, and if seen in that light there's an element of "You slept with my boyfriend, I'll sleep with yours."
I don't think she ever loves Danceny, but I do think that she wants him to love her, and arguably the reason she does ballistic enough to tell Danceny about Valmont and Cécile (and to show him Valmont's letter casually bragging about it) is that Valmont not only gets Danceny to ditch her for Cecile, but sends her an incredibly catty letter taunting her that Danceny will never love her.
Now the interesting question is why Merteuil feels that way after Valmont has sex with Cécile, when the idea has come from her from the first place and Valmont has never had much interest in that plan.
DeleteI hadn't considered that, but one possibility is that her real anger is about Valmont/Tourvel, since both of Valmont's letters about his "conquest" of Cécile contain some very romantic language about Tourvel. So she maybe she displaces her anger on Cécile because the Valmont/Cécile sex takes place at the same time.
DeleteSomething that just occurred to me: It's interesting that while Merteuil encourages a continuing sexual relationship between Valmont and Cécile at this point, she also tells Valmont that she no longer regards Cécile as a protegée and potential friend and "junior lieutenant" in intrigue. In a way, it's a signal to Valmont that he's free to treat Cécile as a human f**k doll (or a "pleasure machine"), and without exonerating Valmont I wonder if this contributes to how callously he treats her.
Oh, and one more thing: I'm not sure Tourvel is actually unconscious when Valmont first "takes" her. Remember that before that, he tells her that he will "either possess her or die" and basically makes her believe that he's leaving to off himself (and the only thing that can stop him is if she gives herself to him). He says he's leaving, and then she screams "No!", runs toward him and falls into his arms. His narrative has these weird little self-corrections: "She threw herself or rather fainted into my arms ... while I was leading her or rather carrying her toward the place I had selected as my field of victory." I think one possibility is that Tourvel decides to surrender to Valmont to save his life, but the only way she allow herself to surrender at this point is to put herself into a kind of self-willed stupor so that it's "not her fault," and when Valmont makes these corrections to his narrative, he's sort of ... deferring to her cover, so to speak. (Also, there's a translation issue: what Constantine translates as "regained consciousness" is more like "came back to herself," which Valmont has previously used to refer to Tourvel snapping out of a reverie. So it's much more ambiguous in the original.)
ReplyDeleteObviously, even if Tourvel is consenting, getting a woman to say yes to sex by making her believe it's the only way to stop you from blowing your brains out is not exactly a glorious sexual conquest! But I don't think this is meant to be a reflection on Valmont's sexual strategies in general -- he even tells Merteuil, repeatedly, that none of his usual seduction methods will do in this case because Tourvel is so different. But it's really a remarkable scene because it starts out with Valmont being his worst cold and calculating self -- all the emotion he plays out with Tourvel is pretend, he even tells Merteuil that he isn't able to bring on the tears because he's so focused on the strategy -- and then ends with him being swept away by a completely genuine emotion so strong that it terrifies him.
Yeah, I thought it was rather weak when Valmont threatened to kill himself if rejected. Like, really?
DeleteSpeaking of which, we haven't talked about whether Valmont's death in the duel is suicide by Danceny, basically. I've seen this assertion made very flatly in plot summaries, like "Valmont lets Danceny kill him," and I've also seen the claim that he makes a conscious decision to let Danceny kill him because it's the only way he can free himself from Merteuil.
DeleteI think it's possible (maybe even likely) that he doesn't defend himself very well because he really doesn't care if he lives or dies at this point, but "planned suicide" really doesn't cut it for me. It's not exactly a reliable method! And it's the 18th Century, he could be wounded and spend the next two weeks dying of gangrene.
I'd say he's probably fatalistic at that point, like Hamlet at the end. You know, there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.
DeleteMichael and Cathy,
ReplyDeleteI will respond to you soon.
But Cathy, I had a question in my blog post about Letter 174.
Oh, about Danceny? Yeah I was going to answer that and forgot! I think it's quite clear that he's talking about Cécile, since in his letter to Valmont (Letter 157) he affirms that he has now realized that Cécile is his only love.
DeleteSo he's no longer in love with Cécile???
DeleteRight. Remember that after that line, he says, "I retain nothing of a feeling so basely betrayed [i.e. via Cécile's infidelity with Valmont], and that's not what makes me seek to excuse her." And then at the end of the paragraph he says that "Mlle. de Volanges's wrongs, which I have felt very keenly, nevertheless do not inspire in me any thought of vengeance. It's bad enough to have to stop loving her! To hate her would be far too painful."
DeleteWhether he has actually fallen out of love with her or just regards her as "damaged goods," I don't know. It's also interesting that Rosemonde never lets him know that Mme. de Volanges now wants him to marry Cécile (and does he even know that Cécile has gone to the convent?). I recall someone speculating that, however forgiving Rosemonde may be, she'd rather not see Valmont's killer rewarded with marriage to a rich heiress. I also get the sense that she'd much rather have Cécile in a convent and out of the way because who knows what Cécile could tell people, and she's not especially keen on having her newly dead nephew's memory linked to a scandalous adventure.
But Danceny has done worse!
DeleteOh well.
I haven't considered that Rosemonde just wanted to protect her nephew's reputation when she told Cécile's mother not to ask anymore about why Cécile's in the convent.
There's an interesting essay in a literary journal (from 2003 I think) arguing that neither Danceny nor Rosemonde are as "good" as they're sometimes believed to be. Yeah, Danceny seems completely oblivious to the fact that he also cheated on Cécile (and much more inexcusably since he wasn't coerced or tricked), AND to the fact that he basically pushed Cécile into Valmont's trap. (One thing no one has remarked on, including that 2003 essay: Bertrand's account of Valmont's death mentioned that he had sustained "two sword thrusts to the torso"; that would seem to indicate a second strike when he was already badly wounded, and would basically make it murder under the rules of dueling.)
DeleteAs for Rosemonde, there's some intriguing evidence that she knowingly facilitates Valmont's seduction of Tourvel. For instance, in Letter 25 when Tourvel fakes an indisposition as an excuse to stay in bed after Valmont's declaration of love, Rosemonde .... *brings Valmont to Tourvel's bedroom to feel her pulse*! (I mean... surely she knows enough to know that Valmont + attractive young woman in bed = trouble.) In Letter 122 she conveys to Tourvel the information about Valmont's faked illness and depressed state (heh, another parallel I hadn't thought of) in a way that seems sure to work on Tourvel's emotions. I always found it amusing that she writes, "Between us, I wouldn't have wanted you to see him like this; he had a very touching look, very likely, I believe, to inspire that tender sympathy which is one of love's most dangerous traps." But .... she's going to make sure that Tourvel gets an exact and detailed account of Valmont in his dejected state! (Btw, another Helen C. gaffe: she has "unpowdered wig" where the original has "unpowdered hair" - Valmont would not be wearing a wig in his bedroom, and I'm not sure he'd be wearing one at all in the country!) I don't think Rosemonde has any evil intentions -- she may genuinely believe that Tourvel will be a good influence on Valmont (and even that a love affair will be good for Tourvel). But I've always found it interesting that (1) the letter in which she finally explicitly warns Tourvel that Valmont is not quite safe for women is sent two days after the Valmont/Tourvel meeting (is the arthritis an excuse?); and (2) she doesn't reply to any of Mme. de Volanges's letters about Tourvel's illness, which would force her to acknowledge Valmont's awful behavior. Does she also feel guilty about facilitating the affair?
Oh, and what did you think of Valmont's letter to Volanges in the appendix? (The one Laclos took out of the final version of the manuscript under the flimsy excuse that we don't know whether it was sincere -- if those were the criteria, half this book wouldn't exist!)
Okay, so a couple of points.
Delete1/ It's intriguing that we don't know much about the affair between Merteuil and Danceny - how it starts, what happens, what they're like with each other, etc. Merteuil doesn't describe it and doesn't say much, Danceny doesn't tell anyone, all we get is a couple of letters from Danceny to Merteuil.
It's shabby behaviour from Danceny nevertheless, towards Cécile.
2/ I see what you mean about Madame de Rosamonde. I wouldn't say she facilitates it, but have noticed that she says things about Valmont that she shouldn't say after Tourvel has run away, things that essentially mean "come back, you've made my nephew suffer, take him".
3/ I didn't notice that she sent letters two days later, but then you've read it a million times hahaha.
4/ Not sure I have much thought about Valmont's letter to Madame de Volanges in the appendix.
Hmm, well, re Danceny/Merteuil, their affair is very short-lived -- it starts on Nov. 30 when Merteuil returns to Paris from her country house and ends Dec. 5 when Valmont writes to Danceny that Cécile wants to see him. Remember, before she returns, Merteuil writes Danceny this deliciously manipulative letter that's all like, "I'm coming back, I won't be seeing anyone yet but I would love it if you came over ... but please don't if you have anything more important to do!" He comes over and at some point during this meeting they have sex -- Danceny believes it was a spontaneous moment of passion where they suddenly both realized their attraction to/love for each other, but of course we can surmise that Merteuil set it up very carefully. Then, as Valmont finds out, they spend four evenings together.
ReplyDeleteOh, re (3): It's actually that 2003 essay that picked up on the significance of Rosemonde writing to Tourvel with a delay. But she actually apologizes for that delay at the start of her letter -- I just hadn't put 2 and 2 together.
I think Valmont's letter to Volanges is quite interesting -- there's a bluntness in it that is quite unlike his usual persona, and an admission of guilt (with regard to Tourvel) that could be seen as a direct counter to the "Its not my fault" line. There's a theory that Laclos took it out of the final version of the MS because it leaves no doubt at all about Valmont's love for Tourvel or the genuineness of his remorse, and Laclos wanted to leave it somewhat more ambiguous.
Speaking of "It's not my fault", I was surprised that Valmont actually copied the badly written, absurd letter that Merteuil wrote and sent it to Tourvel. I understand that he, in that moment, thought he wanted Merteuil and couldn't stand being laughed at and seen as weak (for loving Tourvel), but that's a ridiculous letter!
DeleteHmm, is it really badly written? It's clearly meant to be a taunt. However, among the various theories I've seen is that Valmont doesn't expect Tourvel to take it seriously because he assumes she would know that even if he wanted to leave her, he wouldn't write a letter like that. I don't know if I quite buy that, though. But I do think that he doesn't actually intend to break up with her -- he wants to show Merteuil that he can send this letter, and deep down he thinks that eventually he'll explain it to Tourvel as a bad joke. Or something.
Delete(I'd love to know what he writes to Tourvel when he's trying to get her back. "My evil ex-girlfriend hacked my email?" :D Or whatever the 18th C equivalent would be. Stole my stationery and forged my handwriting?)
I don't know what it's like in the original, but I found it badly written. Too much repetition, it seems rather forced. I'm not complaining about Laclos, I have to clarify, I mean why did Valmont send such a letter to Tourvel?
Delete