I saw the man of the slaughter-houses enter the room; he was indeed a little like Maurice, but - and this was odder - they both had in them something of a type which I had never myself consciously observed in Morel's face but which I now clearly saw to exist there; they bore a resemblance, if not to Morel as I had seen him, at least to a certain countenance which eyes seeing Morel otherwise than I did might have constructed out of his features. No sooner had I, out of features borrowed from my recollections of Morel, privately made for myself this rough model of what he might represent to somebody else, than I realised that the two young men, one of whom was a jeweller's assistant while the other worked in a hotel, were in a vague way substitutes for Morel. Was I to conclude that M. de Charlus, at least in a certain aspect of his loves, was always faithful to a particular type and that the desire which had made him select these two young men one after the other was the identical desire which made made him accost Morel on the platform at Doncieres station; that all three resembled a little the ephebe whose form, engraved in the sapphire-like eyes of M. de Charlus, gave to his glance that strange quality which had alarmed me the first day at Balbec. Or that, his love for Morel having modified the type which he pursued, to console himself for Morel's absence he sought men who resembled him? A third hypothesis which occurred to me was that perhaps, in spite of appearances, there had never existed between him and Morel anything more than relations of friendship and that M. de Charlus caused young men who resembled Morel o come to Jupien's establishment so that he might have the illusion, while he was with them, of enjoying pleasure with Morel himself.
Marcel Proust, Time Regained, p. 846
Marcel, quickly getting over the "shock" of seeing M. de Charlus sadomasochistically trussed up, begins almost immediately to reflect upon the fact that so many of the young men that the Baron fancies look like Morel - or that Morel looks like so many of the men that the Baron fancies. This brings us to Proust laying out three theories on why the Baron - or, for that matter, each of us - lusts within a certain narrow field:
1. "Was I to conclude that M. de Charlus, at least in a certain aspect of his loves, was always faithful to a particular type . . ." Essentially, the notion would be that we are programmed, almost from birth (I'm sure that there is an interesting nature/nurture argument here), to be drawn to a particular type.
2. "Or that, his love for Morel having modified the type which he pursued, to console himself for Morel's absence he sought men who resembled him?" We don't have a particular type until we fall in love, and then the emotional/psychic shock, brands us with desiring a similar type. I would argue that this is even greater if the first love ends terribly painfully, which probably explains my love affair with the Minnesota Vikings.
3. " . . . in spite of appearances, there had never existed between him and Morel anything more than relations of friendship and that M. de Charlus caused young men who resembled Morel o come to Jupien's establishment so that he might have the illusion, while he was with them, of enjoying pleasure with Morel himself." In this case the desire really has nothing to do with love or lust, but instead with friendship. We want to recapture that feeling of calm and joy and acceptance by pursuing someone who looks like a dear friend. There's probably a great deal of logic with this one since we often mistakenly sleep with our friends simply because we don't possess the intellectual/emotional tools or dialogue to tell the difference.
I'm not certain if I know which of the three is the most logical argument, although, obviously, I have a type: dark European actresses with terrible secrets, or there non-actress equivalents (as is well-documented). I think I also have an emotional type, and that's a whole other category.
No comments:
Post a Comment