【身体的文化：现代性的谱系】The Culture of the Body Genealogies of Modernity

The Culture of the Body
THE BODY, IN THEORY Histories of Cultural Materialism
The Subject as Action: Transformation and Totality in Narrative Aesthetics

by Alan Singer
Power and Knowledge: Astrology, Physiognomics, and Medicine under the
Roman Empire by Tamsyn S. Barton
Under the Sign: John Bargrave as Collector, Traveler, and Witness
by Stephen Bann
Simulacra and Simulation by Jean Baudrillard, translated by Sheila Faria Glaser
The Deluge, the Plague: Paolo Uccello
by Jean Louis Schefer, translated by Torn Conley
Philodemus in Italy: The Books from Herculaneum

by Marcello Gigante, translated by Dirk Obbink
The Tremulous Private Body: Essays on Subjection by Francis Barker

Picturing Silence: Emblem, Language, Counter-Reformation Materiality
by Karen Pinkus
The Gay Critic by Hubert Fichte, translated by Kevin Gavin
The Abyss of Freedom / Ages of the World
by Slavoj Zizek I F. W. J. von Schelling, translated by Judith Norman
The Body and Physical Difference: Discourses of Disability
edited by David T. Mitchell and Sharon L. Snyder
Constructions of the Classical Body edited by James 1. Porter
An Utterly Dark Spot: Gaze and Body in Early Modern Philosophy
by Miran Bozovic
The Pedagogical Contract: The Economies of Teaching and Learning in the
Ancient World by Yun Lee Too
Cutting the Body: Representing Woman in Baudelaire's Poetry, Truffaut's
Cinema, and Freud's Psychoanalysis by Eliane DalMolin
Staging Masculinity: The Rhetoric of Performance in the Roman World
by Erik Gunderson
Culture of the Body: Geneologies of Modernity
by Dalia Judovitz
The Culture of the Body
Genealogies of Modernity
Dalia Judovitz
Ann Arbor
The University of Michigan Press

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Judovitz, Dalia.
The culture of the body: genealogies of modernity / Dalia
Judovitz.
p. cm. - (The body, in theory)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-472-09742-3 (acid-free paper) - ISBN 0-472-06742-7 (pbk. :
acid-free paper)
1. Body, Human (Philosophy)-France-History. 2. Philosophy,
Modern. 3. Body, Human in literature. 4. French literature-
History and criticism. I. Title. II. Series.
B1809.B62 J83 2000
128' .6'0944-dc21 00-009179
ISBN13 978-0-472-09742-5 (cloth) CIP
ISBN13 978-0-472-06742-8 (paper)
ISBN13 978-0-472-02321-9 (electronic)
To Erna Judovits
In Memoriam
What is most surprising is rather the body;
one never ceases to be amazed at the idea that
the human body has become possible.
-FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE
Acknowledgments
This project was inspired by the writings of Maurice Merleau-Ponty and

Michel Foucault. This volume also marks the untimely passing of Jean-
Fran<;ois Lyotard, my former teacher, colleague, and dear friend, whose
extraordinary intellect, generosity, and vitality has decisively informed and
enriched my own work. My special thanks go to James Porter, Tom Conley,
and Michael Schwartz for their generous and insightful comments, sugges-
tions, and support. Thanks are also due to my former colleague Martin Jay,
whose intellectual contributions I admire, and to my friends and colleagues
from the International Association for Philosophy and Literature, whose
responsiveness as audience for portions of this book was a major source of
motivation. I am also grateful for the research opportunities offered by a
sabbatical year fellowship and grant awarded by Emory University that
enabled me to bring this manuscript to completion. Special appreciation is
owed to LeAnn Fields, executive editor at the University of Michigan Press,
for her encouragement and support, to Jennifer Wisinski, who supervised
the production of the manuscript, and to Richard Isomaki, for his talented
copyediting. Last but not least, the production of this volume is indebted to
the invaluable assistance of Patrick Wheeler, my former maverick research
assistant, translator, and copyeditor, and to Leonard Hinds, Madeline Pam-
pel, Louise Barry, Michael Kazanjian, and Sebastian Dubreil, who helped
out with further bibliographic materials and translations. Inscribed in the
margins of this volume and permeating its very substance is the unflagging
love and support of my husband, Hamish M. Caldwell.
Contents
Introduction
Part 1. Baroque Embodiments
Chapter 1. Montaigne's Scriptorial Bodies:

Experience, Sexuality, Style 15
Chapter 2. Emblematic Legacies: Regendering the

Hieroglyphs of Desire 41
Part 2. Cartesian Bodies, Virtual Bodies
Chapter 3. The Automaton as Virtual Model:

Anatomy, Technology, and the Inhuman 67
Chapter 4. Spectral Metaphysics: Errant Bodies

and Bodies in Error 83
Chapter 5. Incorporations: Royal Power, or the

Social Body in Corneille's The Cid 109
Part 3. Materialist Machines
Chapter 6. Men-Machines 133
Chapter 7. Sex at the Limits of Representation 147
Conclusion 169
Notes 179
Bibliography 211
Index 223
Introduction
The critical literature of the past decades bears witness to a renewed inter-
est in the body, in its literary, philosophical, social, and historical construc-
tion. 1 The confluence of these discourses that shape the destiny of the body
is grounded in specific historical conditions that determine its particular
modes of existence. Rather than treating the body as a given, these studies
compel us to question and explore its conditions of possibility. However,
this effort to inquire into the construction of the body must take into
account the obstacle presented by its conceptual consolidations, which
attain over time a factual authority and stability that are very difficult to
overcome. As Maurice Merleau-Ponty points out regarding the advent of
subjectivity in philosophy: "There are some ideas which make it impossible
for us to return to a time prior to their existence, even and especially if we
have moved beyond them.,,2 The fate of the body as an idea, like that of
subjectivity to whose emergence it is linked, is haunted by the foreclosure of
its past meanings and history. Once consolidated in the modern period, the
idea of the body takes on the character of a given that renders its prior forms
and modalities of existence difficult to perceive and understand. This
dilemma becomes even more pronounced today, since contemporary for-
mulations of the body appear to have done away with the body as we con-
ventionally understand it, by displacing and replacing it with various
artificial and virtual analogues, whose simulationallogic erases the bound-
aries between the human and the machine. The predominance of virtual
bodies and notions of virtual reality today attests to the persistent legacy of
the Cartesian mind-body duality that continues to obscure and even elide
prior formulations of the body. In so doing, this legacy forecloses the con-
ceptual import of earlier paradigms to new ways of thinking about cultural
constructions of the body and notions of embodiment.
What does it mean to speak of the body in terms of culture, understood
both as the medium for the articulation, cultivation, and elaboration of the
body and as a defining tradition? This project is inspired by Michel de Mon-
2 • The Culture of the Body
taigne (1533-1592) and his comment in the testamentary essay "Of Experi-
ence," from the Essays (1588): "I, who operate only close to the ground,
hate that inhuman wisdom that would make us disdainful enemies of the
cultivation of the body (culture du corps)" (III, 13: 849).3 The inhuman wis-
dom that Montaigne decries denies the pivotal role of the body and of expe-
rience and seeks to exceed or even overcome the embodied and mixed
nature of the human condition. His insistence on the cultivation of the body
implies a revalorizing of its culture, along with that of the mind. Montaigne
suggests that it is through physical and mental cultivation that the body
attains worldly being in its various embodiments. 4 And for the reader today,
this notion of cultivation finds its determining horizon in the modern notion
of culture, within whose traditions the body's condition and potential for
transformation are inscribed. 5
Montaigne's essay concludes with a warning against efforts to dissociate
the mind from the body in order to transcend the human predicament as a
hybrid or immixed condition:
They [philosophers] want to get out of themselves and escape from the man.
That is madness: instead of changing themselves into angels, they change into
beasts; instead of raising themselves, they lower themselves. These transcen-
dental humors frighten me, like lofty and inaccessible heights. (III, 13: 856)
Written approximately fifty years before Rene Descartes's interpretation of

the body as a machine and his elaboration of the mind-body dualism, Mon-
taigne's visionary comments anticipate the fate of the body and its elabora-
tion in Western metaphysical discourse. If Montaigne admits to fright when
faced with "transcendental humors," which he regards as lofty and inacces-
sible heights, his reluctance and resistance to accede to them constitutes a
premonitory warning of the danger inherent in the efforts to transcend the
human as an embodied condition. The Cartesian account of body represents
precisely what Montaigne most feared, for the efforts to elevate rational
subjectivity to a universal and thus transcendental position entail its disem-
bodiment, the disengagement of consciousness from the body understood as
an organic and experiential entity. Montaigne's extensive discussions of the
cultivation of the body in its philosophical, literary, social, and sexual
modalities reflect his understanding of the body not as a given but as a
changing horizon of multiple becomings. This notion of cultivation impli-
cates culture in the modern sense, understood as a defining tradition and as
a generative medium for embodiment.
Rather than presupposing a knowledge of the body as a term defined
since Descartes in opposition to the mind, this study explores the construc-
Introduction • 3
tion of the body as an entity whose historical character emerges as a func-

tion of specific conceptual and cultural frameworks. For it is within partic-
ular discursive frames and practices that bodies "materialize," attaining
their specific embodiments, be they literary, philosophical, social, anatomi-
cal, or technological. The notion of discursive practices evoked here, by ref-
erence to Michel Foucault, is not reducible simply to ways of producing dis-
course. Rather, Foucault suggests that discursive practices are "embodied in
technical processes, in institutions, in patterns for general behavior, in forms
for transmission and diffusion, and in pedagogical forms which, at once,
impose and maintain them."6 Hence, they do not restrict the meaning of the
body to its linguistic elaborations, but rather expand it to include technical,
social, institutional, and pedagogical processes through which it attains
embodiment and that assure its transmission and perpetuation. The ques-
tion of the body and its modalities of cultural becoming are thus embedded
in the larger social, institutional, and technical practices that sustain the
horizon of embodiment. In this study, the question of the body is framed by
notions of embodiment, understood as defining traditions and paradigms
through which the body achieves its conceptual and material realization.
This volume traces the cultural transformations of the body and the
notions of embodiment that underlie its representations from the late six-
teenth century through the eighteenth century in French literary and philo-
sophical works. The literary and philosophical focus of this study enables a
specific examination of the various modalities of representation that inform
the body and its embodiments in terms of the interplay of their conceptual
and material elaborations. At issue is an understanding of the body as an
always provisional construction, grounded in changing world views that
entail different understandings of representation, subjectivity, and identity.
The works chosen, by such authors as Montaigne, Honore d'Urfe,
Descartes, Pierre Corneille, Julien Offray de La Mettrie, and the marquis de
Sade, are emblematic of their time, since they magnify and clarify shifts in
cultural sensibility, understood as modes of apprehension and representa-
tion. These works are products of a period marked by great social, political,
religious, and artistic upheavals, a period that stretches from the emergence
in France of the new print culture during the final years of the Wars of Reli-
gion through the French Revolution of 1789. This period spans conflicting
interpretations of bodies, ranging from an understanding of the body in
terms of issues of legibility that script its complexion into the fabric of the
world, to its abstraction and subsumption within a new order based on the
mathematization of knowledge and the world, and culminating in the cata-
strophic efforts to retrieve its material character, albeit as a social and insti-
tutional abstraction. These cultural shifts reflect a turning point in the West-
ern literary and philosophical traditions, the emergence of a new concept of
the body whose dissociation from both the mind and experiential reality dis-
engages it from the sphere of embodiment. The advent of Cartesian subjec-
tivity leads to the exclusion of the body from the purview of metaphysics,
and to its reduction to a notion of materiality, whose logic is governed by
the regime of the machine.
It is important to note that this study is less historical than "genealogi-
cal," in the Nietzschean sense, to the extent that it seeks to establish the var-
ied and often conflictual traditions and lineages that mark the emergence of
modern notions of the body.? These genealogies of the representations of
the body are neither linear nor progressive, insofar as they reference a his-
tory of struggles, contradictory impulses, and infringements that emerges
out of a series of discontinuous, overlapping, and episodic moments. They
trace the struggles in the assertion of meanings attached to the body, mean-
ings that engage with past traditions in order to rewrite and thus reissue
their future embodiments. Rather than equating modernity with develop-
ments in nineteenth-century industrial culture, this study demonstrates how
these competing early modern cultural discourses inform, suppress, or acti-
vate the meanings attached to the body in the modern period. If the post-
modern functions according to the logic of the future anterior, as Jean-
Fran<;ois Lyotard suggests, then it is precisely that which has become
unpresentable and postponed in the representations of modernity that needs
further consideration, so that we may begin to understand why an early
modern author such as Montaigne may be deemed postmodern, rather than
modern. 8
The book is divided into three parts that roughly coincide with the
baroque, classical, and postclassical periods, each part outlining specific
conceptual frameworks and discursive practices for staging the body and its
horizon of embodiment. 9 The first, "Baroque Embodiments," outlines in the
works of Montaigne and d'Urfe (1567-1625) a way of thinking about the
body that is grounded in a notion of representation understood as shifting
semblance. As examples of early print culture, these works present the
body's engagement in the fabric of the world through reflections on repre-
sentation and its legibility. The presentation of the body occurs in the
modality of a script, as a transitional imprint that bears the traces of social
and cultural practices. The body is staged; its complexion is not given, but
rather constructed like a scenario that derives its meaning from its context
and finds new meanings through its transpositions into other contexts. The
logic of the body thus emerges in the order of translation, understood not as
Introduction. 5
an originary given, but as a script that attains specific meanings through its
transpositions. In both Montaigne and d'Urfe, this scriptorial account of the
body proves to be nonessentialist, to the extent that it defines the body as a
process of embodiment whose provisional instances mark moments in the
history of its becoming. This emphasis on embodiment rather than being
provides insight into the particular freedom and instability of baroque bod-
ies, their capacity to sustain multiple identities that challenge philosophical,
social, and sexual expectations.
Entitled "Cartesian Bodies, Virtual Bodies," the second part examines
the emergence of a new concept of the body whose purely mechanical and
material definition breaks radically with previous philosophical and literary
accounts based on the experiential or lived body. Descartes's elaboration of
a rational subjectivity founded on the primacy of reason entails the
redefinition of the body as a machine whose objective reality is sundered
from its subjective existence. This disembodiment of subjectivity, accompa-
nied by the mechanical reduction of the body, has important consequences,
since embodiment will cease to define the condition of the lived, experiential
body and will refer instead to its submission, manipulation, and incorpora-
tion within the framework of knowledge and disciplines that legislates and
governs its existence. The problems entailed in the Cartesian virtualization
of the body are echoed in the early plays of Corneille (1606-1684). Given
their social, political, and artistic focus, these works provide a worldly, pub-
lic frame to Descartes's scientific and philosophical explorations of the
body. In Corneille's works, the dismemberment of the lived experiential
body coincides with its virtual reconfiguration in terms of political and eco-
nomic paradigms that sublate its organic logic into the organization of the
body politic.
The third part of this study, "Materialist Machines," elaborates the
influence of Cartesian ideas on the development of French materialism in
the eighteenth century. The import and legacy of Cartesianism finds both its
realization and destruction in the works of such thinkers as La Mettrie
(1709-1751) and Sade (1740-1814), the philosophical critic and parodist
of the Enlightenment. Following La Mettrie's mechanization of man, Sade's
works document the reification of the experiential body through social and
cultural practices that displace its materiality onto the codes governing its
philosophical foundation and social administration. Sade's radical philo-
sophical critique coincides with literary experimentation, with a parodic
expenditure of the body that tests the capacity of the human as a sustainable
category. In Sa de the technological destiny implicit in the Cartesian formu-
lation of the body is brought into explicit conflict with the transcendental
foundations of metaphysical discourse, raising the specter of the inhuman as

Descartes's major legacy to modernism.
Before proceeding to a more detailed account of the contents of specific
chapters, a brief discussion of the critical background and premises of this
study becomes necessary in order to elucidate the particular nature of its
philosophical and literary contributions. Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)
was the first modern philosopher to call explicit attention to the body, par-
ticularly in relation to representation, by locating culture within the purview
of the body rather than the soul. It was Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1908-
1961), however, who made the body a central topic of investigation
throughout his philosophical works. In his groundbreaking study The Phe-
nomenology of Perception (1945), he sought to recover the body from both
its Cartesian reduction to an ordinary object and its isolation from con-
sciousness by considering the body as a necessary condition of the knowing
subject. It is the embodiment of the subject of knowledge that determines
the subject's capacity to take a position and attain a point of view on the
world, a knowledge that by virtue of this inherent positionality will be con-
tingent, fragmentary, and incomplete. Noted primarily for its insistence on
the "primacy of perception," the claim that all consciousness, including self-
consciousness, is perceptual, this work sought to conceptualize perception
as the phenomenal horizon of an embodied subjectivity. Although Merleau-
Ponty touched on the question of embodiment in terms of issues that exceed
perception, through his discussion of the sexual body as speech and gesture,
these analyses remain conceptually undeveloped. It is in his later works that
Merleau-Ponty attempts to find a new philosophical language that moves
beyond the perceiving body by assimilating linguistic and psychoanalytic
concerns into the notion of embodiment. His growing fascination with lan-
guage as intersubjective communication, and with its constitutive role in the
formation of experience, attests to his efforts to decenter the notion of the
subject by endowing it with a posthumanist inflection, that re-enfolds its
logic into the fabric of the world. to
It is within the purview of Merleau-Ponty's double legacy that this vol-
ume situates its own critical agenda, insofar as it seeks on the one hand to
recover experiential accounts of the body, and on the other hand to recon-
ceptualize bodily experience in a scriptorial modality that generates a new
understanding of embodiment as a material process of folding and unfold-
ing that involves inscription, transcription, and interpretation. This latter
model of embodiment has the advantage of decentering the subjective pres-
ence of the body by inscribing the logic of experience within an intersubjec-
any formal or conceptual potential, the objective materiality of the body

attests to its submission to reason, to a system of rational criteria and
mechanical laws that governs its projection.
But, as I suggested earlier, the consideration of embodiment as a function
of representation cannot be addressed uniquely from a philosophical van-
tage point. The notion of embodiment references representation and conse-
quently also implies particular understandings of language and interpreta-
tion. In Montaigne's Essays, language is presented as a material medium
that in the process of representing things gives them body and endows them
with physical effects. Representation bears in its materiality as a signifying
practice the trace of alterity, of an excess that modifies and expands any
intended meaning. This is why interpretation in Montaigne proliferates and
proves to be inexhaustible, because representation as material embodiment
opens itself up to multiple interpretations that undermine efforts of subjec-
tive closure. It is precisely this proliferation of meanings within representa-
tion that Descartes seeks to contain by modeling philosophical discourse on
the objective ideality and certitude of mathematics. His effort to redefine
philosophical discourse as the discourse of certitude and truth leads him to
conceive thought as a transparent and immaterial entity that exceeds the
confines of both language and representation, to the extent that this entity is
posited as their condition of possibility. Even as thought is ascribed a prior-
ity that appears to supersede the material substrate of speech, still the sub-
ject of consciousness, in claiming its existence, finds itself speaking, unable
to escape the materiality of representation. The disembodiment of the sub-
ject that underlies its definition as "I think, therefore I am" marks its virtual
existence, its hypostatic position within a new representational order that
has elided its own signifying and material functions.
The notion of embodiment is central to sexuality insofar as the subject
signifies its assumption of a gender identity through the negotiation of cul-
tural signs. At issue is less the anatomical identity of the body than the sub-
ject's assumption of gender positions through the appropriation of cultural
and social representations that define its construction as an embodied entity.
To think sexuality in the mode of embodiment is to resituate the logic of the
body by positing its materiality as a result of its engagement with cultural
norms and representations. In this respect, Foucault's works on sexuality
and ethics in The History of Sexuality (1976-84), and Judith Butler's more
recent Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of "Sex" (1993) are
important insofar as they locate sexual difference within discursive practices
whose normative force is derived from their reiterative character. 13 Foucault
and Butler suggest that the materiality of the body is constructed as a func-
Introduction • 9
tion of regulatory norms, whose forcible and reiterative character implicates

the body in a dynamics of power. 14
While recognizing the socially compelling and regulative function of sex-
ual norms, this study argues that the freedom and fluidity of the representa-
tion of sexuality in the baroque texts of Montaigne and d'Urfe reflects an
understanding of embodiment where sexual difference is not foundational,
but merely an expression of the play of resemblances that define representa-
tion. This is not to suggest that social and cultural roles are not at play, but
rather that their normative and regulative function becomes enforceable
only upon the formal emergence of the discourse of sexuality.15 While they
exercise a certain force, their contingent character opens them up to forms
of deployment that can challenge their conventional meanings and associa-
tions. In Montaigne's Essays, the referential character of sexuality is dis-
lodged from physical reality and transposed into representation, so that its
meaning is contextually defined as an intertextual gesture marked by inter-
sexual overtones. In d'Urfe's Astrea, the undecidability of representation as
scriptorial or figurative embodiment leads to the surprising presentation of
heterosexual love through the bias of a lesbian register, where sexual differ-
ence, and ultimately identity, is erased through the play of travestied resem-
blances.
At first glance, the radical disembodiment of the subject implied in the
Cartesian definition of subjectivity appears to render the question of sexual-
ity moot, if not altogether inappropriate. However, this study argues that it
is precisely the exclusion of embodiment from the framework of Cartesian
subjectivity that leads to its "sexless" and impersonal appearance as the uni-
versal subject of truth. This perception is reinforced by the reduction of the
body to a machine, apparently excluding sexuality altogether from its
purview. Yet this denial of embodiment, which underlies the foundation of
the subject of truth, also corresponds to the emergence of the notion of
ontological difference. The disembodied subject of truth is the abstract
being that stands as the condition of possibility for all other ordinary beings.
Thus the question arises whether this ontological difference, which distin-
guishes the metaphysical subject of truth from its phenomenal and empiri-
cal incarnations, does not become paradigmatic of the emergence of sexual
difference as a foundational and regulative concept. The denial of embodi-
ment and its representational character does not mean that the body ceases
to exist, but simply that its materiality is translated into institutionalized
relations of power; for the solidity of the Cartesian body resides not only in
its ostensible material and mechanical nature, but also in its passive submis-
sion to the discourses that govern and discipline its administration. Along
these lines, ontological difference is seen as paradigmatic of sexual differ-

ence, to the extent that it redefines the question of embodiment as a function
of power differences. It is this Cartesian legacy that Sade violently chal-
lenges by attempting to eradicate not only sexual difference, but the onto-
logical difference that underlines its metaphysically transcendent founda-
tions.
A rapid summary of the chapters in this volume will provide the reader
with a more precise road map of its contents. Chapter 1 takes as its point of
departure Montaigne's warning to the reader, "Verses have fingers," as a
reflection on the power of embodiment implicit in representation. The text
points its figurative finger at reality and, in so doing, risks physically grab-
bing hold of the reader. Locating the material and physical effects of the
Essays within the materiality of representation, Montaigne opens up the
question of the experiential body to a broader inquiry that dislocates its
phenomenal solidity by resituating it within the reiterative logic of such cul-
tural practices as custom and habit, forms of gestural or discursive expres-
sion. If style emerges as a major concern, this is because representation itself
is understood as a kind of pattern already available in culture, but one that
can be transferred, transformed, and redeployed. Style for Montaigne is not
merely the expression of eloquence, but a model for understanding the gen-
erative logic of representation. In the Essays, style functions according to a
logic of transplantation in which words and quotes are transposed, so that
their meaning derives its force from their circulation and context, rather
than from an intrinsic essence. The notions of body and embodiment in
Montaigne thus gain new meaning from the way representation functions
figuratively and stylistically both as a culture and as medium for cultivation.
In chapter 2, the question of the baroque body receives further elabora-
tion, in its relation to both the perceptual and the sexual realm. The repre-
sentational instability of the body in Honore d'Urfe's Astrea (1607-27) is
examined as a function of allegory whose figurative principles provide a
description of the body as a composite rebus of image and language. The
unstable referential relation between body and name (the freedom to change
name, identity, and gender) is equated with its emblematic character, that is,
with its freedom to signify both literally and figuratively. The impossible
closure of both identity and the body reflects the recognition that knowledge
is mediated through representation, which, as embodiment, can neither be
contained nor reduced to a formal schema.
In chapter 3, I examine Descartes's redefinition of the organic character
of the body as a system for the circulation of blood and the extensive tech-
nological analogies of the body to a machine in his earlier writings, includ-
Introduction • 11
ing such works as the Discourse on Method (1637) and Treatise on Man
(1629-33, but not published until 1664). Unlike the Renaissance and
baroque body governed by humors, each of which determines the physical
complexion of an individual, the Cartesian description reifies the corporeal
body in order to resituate its meaning within the mechanical order and the
solidity of the discourse of science. In chapter 4, this initial attempt to
"decorporealize" the body finds its metaphysical expression as all aspects of
the experiential lived body come into question. In Descartes's metaphysical
opus, Meditations on First Philosophy (1641), the denunciation and ulti-
mate exclusion of the body, as a site for error, from the metaphysical elab-
oration of subjectivity leads to its virtualization, its disappearance as body,
and its reappearance as an errant specter haunting the margins of meta-
physical discourse. The triumph of this virtualized image of the body that
negates all experiential and historical reality summarizes Descartes's legacy
to both classicism and modernity, a "history" of the body that has ceased to
be a "culture."
Chapter 5 examines the representation of blood and the body in
Corneille's theater-concomitant with Descartes's description of the
anatomical body in terms of the circulatory system-in order to explore its
symbolic, social, and political connotations. The transfer of notions of
organicity from the physical body to the body of the state is at issue, as evi-
denced in the metaphorical fragmentation of body and the social exchange
and circulation of body parts. As developed explicitly in The Cid (1636),
but also present implicitly in such later plays as Horace (1640) and Cinna
(1641), the body is presented as an object of contention between competing
systems of social exchange and obligation. At issue is the reduction of the
physical body to its social functions, fostering its administrative incorpora-
tion into the body politic of the nascent absolutist state. The expenditure
and economy of the social body challenges the body's identity as physical
organism, thereby marking a shift in the way it is conceived both as private
and as public entity.
In chapters 6 and 7, the Cartesian legacy to the development of eigh-
teenth-century French materialism comes into question, both the apparent
realization of the Cartesian technological dream, La Mettrie's Man-
Machine (1748), and its phantasmagorical, explosive, and perverse destruc-
tion in the marquis de Sade's Misfortunes of Virtue (1787) and Philosophy
in the Bedroom (1795). Working out of Descartes, La Mettrie emphasizes
the body's material and mechanical reality, not in opposition to the mind,
but as a way of usurping through materialism its Cartesian ascendancy.
Sa de carries this materialism to its hyperbolic and parodic limit through a
strategy that violates not only the body, but the philosophical, legal, and
social laws that legislate its existence. The body is presented as a parody of
the Cartesian logic of the machine, since it is saturated with forms of activ-
ity whose violent nature it cannot sustain without destroying the very mean-
ing of sexuality as embodied expression. The Sadean equation of sexuality
with extraordinary violence and violation, where pleasure is purely an
expression of power, parodically restages the violence inherent in the philo-
sophical disembodiment of the body and its social and institutional reem-
bodiment in terms of a dynamics of power.
While this study takes as its focus pivotal literary and philosophical texts
that mark historical shifts and transformations in the way the body is
defined and conceptually understood, the questions that it opens up are by
no means restricted to its past history. Insofar as it is the Cartesian legacy
that has proved decisive to a modernist understanding of the body, the
effort to recover Montaigne's and d'Urfe's positions does not merely enable
an insight into historic change, but opens up new horizons for thinking
about the body. It is precisely their discursive and conceptual incompatibil-
ity with the Cartesian paradigm and its legacy, that can prove to be concep-
tually productive for the contemporary context. For the paradox that con-
fronts modernity is that its historical development has elided previous
world views, such as those of the Renaissance and the baroque, and in that
sense postponed access to their discursive and conceptual frameworks. It is
this very postponement, however, that constitutes the cultural resource of
postmodernism as it redeploys and reappropriates the semblance of the past
in order to reconfigure the promise of a future already nascent in its mar-
gins. Rather than functioning as the insignia of historical archaism, these
earlier conceptual frameworks can be redeployed in contemporary critical
discourse, in order to provide new ways for conceiving and representing the
body as a plural entity whose multiple embodiments attest to its embedded-
ness in the fabric of the world.
Part 1
Baroque Embodiments
Chapter 1
Montaigne's Scriptorial Bodies:
Experience, Sexuality, Style
Since the publication of Michel de Montaigne's Essays (1588), commenta-

tors and critics alike have continued to argue about both the philosophical
and the stylistic merits of the work. The advent of Carrtesianism and classi-
cism in the latter half of the seventeenth century had an impact on the criti-
cal reception of Montaigne's works, since new criteria emerged for judging
the adequacy of its philosophical and discursive representations. In The
Search after Truth (1674-75), Nicolas Malebranche criticizes Montaigne's
lack of philosophical reasoning and argumentation in terms that recall his
own adherence to Cartesian standards:
It is not at all his arguments that persuade us; he hardly ever uses any in sup-
port of the things he advances, or at least he hardly ever puts forth arguments
with any foundation. Indeed, he does not have principles on the basis of
which he founds his reasoning, and he has no order for making deductions
from his principles. 1
Noting the lack of foundational principles, of an ordered development of
arguments based on the preeminence of reason, Malebranche judges Mon-
taigne's work in terms of its retroactive failure to conform to Cartesian
notions. Neglecting the tentative and reflective nature of the essay as a
genre, Malebranche dismisses the irregular character of the Essays, their
perceived Jack of reasoning and orderly disquisition, by relegating them to
philosophical insignificance, to an unruly collection of anecdotes and
apothegms. 2 It is interesting to note, however, that earlier commentators,
such as Guez de Balzac, commented on the digressive logic and style of the
Essays, only to argue that these very features may in fact explain their ulti-
mate success. 3
Not content to question the philosophical and discursive logic of the
Essays, Malebranche also condemns the nefarious influence of this work
upon the reader. At issue is the physical impact of the Essays, since the text
is accused of producing physical effects, of affectively "touching" the

reader, thereby engendering "concupiscent" or criminal pleasures:
It is not only dangerous to read Montaigne for diversion, because the plea-
sure we take in him insensibly engages us in his views, it is also dangerous
because this pleasure is more criminal that we might think. For this pleasure
surely arises principally from concupiscence, and supports and strengthens
only our passions, since the author's style is agreeable only because it affects
us (nous touche) and imperceptihly arouses our passions. 4
Malebranche's warning against the dangers of reading Montaigne captures

the physical impact of the Essays, insofar as their writing style generates
pleasure by awakening imperceptibly the reader's passions. It is precisely
this capacity to engage the reader physically, to address the body not merely
as topic, but as a mode of presentation, that constitutes the text's perceived
material threat. Malebranche's reaction pinpoints one of the most notable
aspects of the Essays, the fact that Montaigne's presentation valorizes expe-
rience and the body, as well as the physical and material nature of the text.
The consideration of the body as topic is reflected in its representation, its
embodiment as material and physical fact. Montaigne alerts the reader to
the embodied nature of his writings by quoting Juvenal: "And verses have
their fingers to excite" (III, 5: 645). Verses not only point their fingers at
reality, but may in fact come to embody a particular reality so powerfully as
to literally grab hold of the reader. Thus Montaigne's concern with the body
doubly inflects the Essays, both on the level of content and in the manner or
style of its presentation.
Why Montaigne's engagement with the body should become the subject
of such discomfort for Malebranche is a question that can only be answered
by briefly considering the rise of Cartesianism and its influence on the emer-
gent classical aesthetic ideology. The elaboration of a Cartesian epistemol-
ogy whose model for certitude is founded on mathematical principles entails
the valorization of the mind at the expense of the body. Designated as the
defining horizon for Cartesian subjectivity, reason undermines the authority
of the lived body, of experience as a governing paradigm.'; Descartes's
usurpation of the body, which functions as the insignia of doubt and error,
impacts on the philosophical elaboration of subjectivity and its discursive
representation insofar as they involve notions of embodiment. The question
of embodiment in Descartes's writings is framed by his is search for certi-
tude. Defined in terms of clear and distinct ideas, certitude implies a partic-
ular understanding of representation in terms of transparency and self-evi-
Montaigne's Scriptorial Bodies· 17
dence. The development of the aesthetic ideology of classicism implements

this demand for clarity and transparency by fostering a notion of represen-
tation that attempts to elide its own embodied character as material and
physical fact. Thus the difference between classical style and Montaigne's
mannerist/baroque style is not simply a superficial matter, but a matter of
substance. 6 Montaigne's stylistic complexity cannot be reduced to mere
ornamentation or decoration. 7 Montaigne's style reflects his philosophical
understanding of the embodied nature of the self and its representation as
material framework and texture. 8
Recent critical studies on Montaigne have focused on the body as a func-
tion of the material aspects of textuality in the Essays, thereby attempting
to rein scribe the body within the text. 9 While invaluable in terms of
expanding the notion of the body through an elaboration of its textual rep-
resentations, they do not explicitly examine the question of the body as a
function of philosophical and stylistic concerns. The revalorization of the
body as material text and texture also involves its philosophical and stylis-
tic redefinition in terms of embodiment. This study will demonstrate that
Montaigne's account of the interplay of reason, experience, and language
in his last essay, "Of Experience," enables a new understanding of the body
as a scripta rial entity. As the site of inscription and transcription, the
modality of the body emerges in the mode of communication or speech,
that is, a transitional figure constituted through dialogue or exchange.
Lacking definition as a stable entity, the transitive logic of the body reflects
its shifting complexions in a process of perpetual becoming. Its multiple
embodiments trace the outline of its encounters with alterity, the discovery
of the otherness of the self as script and representation. Since the body is a
figure whose materiality and composition are also marked by stylistic con-
cerns, this study will also examine Montaigne's essay "On Some Verses of
Virgil. "10 In this essay, the representation of sexuality as a mode of embod-
iment is tied to the question of style as mode of expression. Associated with
commerce, with forms of social and discursive exchange, sexuality will be
at issue, not as an essential difference, but as a transitive mark negotiated
by the quotational structure of Montaigne's text. The inscription of the
mark of gender as a provisional trace will be elaborated as a function of
stylistic concerns, since the material body of the essay bears the imprint
of the changing autograph of sexuality. The generic instability of the body
of the essay, suspended transitively between text and intertext, inflects the
provisional status of gender as an intersexual relay that sets into motion
conventional gender positions.
The Limits of Experience
In his essay "Of Experience" (III, 13), Montaigne explains that he seeks to
portray himself according to experience, that is to say, in a manner com-
mensurate with the exigencies and limits of his body. If traditional self-por-
traits are misleading, this is because Montaigne seeks to present himself as a
being whose life and activity involve movement and change. This valoriza-
tion of movement, of the self as a "being in passage" (III, 2: 611), emerges
from his recognition that our natural thirst for knowledge is delimited by
the diversity of forms of both reason and experience. "Of Experience"
begins with an affirmation of our natural desire for knowledge, echoing
Aristotle's inaugural statement in the Metaphysics. I I However, unlike Aris-
totle, Montaigne emphasizes the diversity of both reason and experience as
embodied forms:
Reason has so many shapes (formes) that we know not which to lay hold of;
experience has no fewer. The inference that we try to draw from the resem-
blance of things is uncertain, because they are always dissimilar: there is no
quality so universal in this aspect of things as diversity and variety. (III, 13:
815)
By associating reason with its multiple embodied forms, Montaigne goes

against the Platonic and Aristotelian traditions that define reason in terms of
its universality and ideality, as an organizing formal principle. 12 Unlike
Aristotle, who privileges the universality of reason over the contingency of
experience, Montaigne affirms the variety and diversity of both reason and
experience.
According to Montaigne, the multiplicity of experience can only be tan-
gentially retrieved through the bias of its already mediated representations:
As no event and no shape is entirely like another, so none is entirely different
from another. An ingenious mixture on the part of nature .... All things hold
together by some similarity; every example is lame, and the comparison that
is drawn from experience is always faulty and imperfect; however, we fasten
together our comparisons by some corner. Thus the laws serve, and thus
adapt themselves to each of our affairs, by some roundabout, forced and
biased interpretation. (III, 13: 8] 9)
This double movement of resemblance and difference qualifies the Janus-

like face of experience, and functions as an index of its impossible reduction
to a fixed schema and predetermined laws,u If experience is irreducible, it is
not simply because it exceeds the limits of reason by virtue of its material
Montaigne's Scriptorial Bodies. 19
and contingent character, but rather because it informs and shapes reason
and its laws as diversely embodied representations.
The effort to contain the mutability of experience can be no more suc-
cessful than the effort to contain interpretation. Montaigne represents the
dilemma of the reader as interpreter by referring to an anecdote by Aesop.
In this anecdote, Aesop's dogs discover something like a dead body floating
in the sea. Unable to approach the body, they attempt to drink up the water
in order to dry up the passage, and choke in process. The point of this anec-
dote is that the reader must become a "good swimmer" (III, 13: 817),
which, according to Montaigne, is what Crates said of the writings of Her-
aclitus. 14 Otherwise, as Montaigne warns, the text may stifle the reader
through the density of its suffocating materiality, like silkworms entangled
in their own work. This warning to the reader against sinking or drowning
serves as a reminder both of Heraclitus's depth and weight of learning and
of the threat of the material density of the fabric of the Essays. Thus, the
story of this dead body at sea outlines from the beginning of the essay the
dilemma of the corporeal nature of the text. The threat of its materiality and
physical character is figured through the bias of a double register. The text's
material existence may be perceived to be solid like a dead body, but this
effect of "thinghood" or material existence is mediated through the fluidity
of the sea, which, like the medium of the representational language of the
essay, threatens to overwhelm and thus drown the reader.
Montaigne's analysis of the relation of interpretation to representation
leads him to an examination of language, particularly in its attempts to rep-
resent materiality in the most elementary and brute sense, by tackling the
definition of a stone:
Our disputes are purely verbal. ... A stone is a body. But if you pressed on:
"And what is a body!-'Substance.'-And what is substance?" and so on,
you would finally drive the respondent to the end of his lexicon. We
exchange one word for another word, often more unknown. (III, 13:
818-19)
The effort to name things leads to a proliferation of words: the stone is

defined as body, the body is defined in turn as substance, and so forth. The
question of representing materiality leads back to an economy of language,
to the endless proliferation and exchange of words that equate representa-
tion to the marketplace: "The question is one of words, and is answered in
the same way" (III, 13: 818). The indexical relation between words and
things is reduced to the metaphorical or metonymical displacement of one
word for another, an exchange in kind. This deferral of materiality through

representation relocates the question of the body into language by demon-
strating that the body's relation to language is as oblique as the general rela-
tion of representation to experiential reality. However, it is precisely this
notion of representation as detour and deferral through diverse embodi-
ments that for Montaigne constitutes its force, that is, its physical impact
and corporeal character. As he explains later in "Of Experience," even truth
cannot enjoy universality, since its meaning is dependent on its representa-
tion, its usage and particular forms: "For truth itself does not have the priv-
ilege to be employed at any time and in any way; its use noble as it is, has its
circumscriptions and limits" (III, 13: 826). Thus the notion of truth itself is
delimited by Montaigne, since its meaning is circumscribed by its particular
context and usage. Truth's universality is purely provisional, subject to the
particular conditions of its representability.
Montaigne inquires into the nature of both law and medicine as the two
institutional systems that legislate the representation of experience. If these
two institutions are found to be lacking in terms of the appropriateness of
the representations they provide, this is not for want of power and author-
ity. Rather, it is because their description and management of experience is
so general in its formal and prescriptive character as to deny both the diver-
sity and the specificity of experience. IS More often than not, the rights of a
specific legal case are overwhelmed by the technicalities and conventions of
the judicial system. As Montaigne explains: "On one side were the rights of
the case, on the other side the rights of judicial forms" (III, 5: 820). Insofar
as the law aims at the preservation of its own conventions, which it defines
as universal, its perpetuation of judicial forms gives precedence over the cir-
cumstantial evidence of experience.
In this regard, the behavior of the law is no different from any other sys-
tem or institution that seeks to perpetuate its own rules at the expense of
contingent experience. Thus even reason is subject to rules whose formal
character demands an adjustment of experience to fit a predetermined,
greater paradigm. As Montaigne observes:
All this reminds me of these ancient notions: that a man is forced to do wrong
in detail if he wants to do right in gross, and injustice in little things if he
wants to achieve justice in great ones; that human justice is formed on the
model of medicine, according to which all that is useful is also just and hon-
est. (III, 13: 820)
The detail is often sacrificed for the sake of the greater idea, just as in law or
medicine a particular fact only gains evidentiary status insofar as it fits,
proves useful to, a preordained order. Thus the authority of the law derives
less from its encounter with contingent experience than from the experience
of its conventions as a universal given, leading Montaigne to conclude:
"Now laws remain in credit not because they are just, but because they are
laws. This is the mystic foundation of their authority; they have no other"
(III, 13: 821). The justice of laws is based on their statutory nature, not on
their intrinsic or essentially just character. Laws, like currency, are based on
the authority of credit; they are legitimized not by the fact of being just, but
because they are laws. The legitimacy of the law is virtual, based on con-
ventions whose authors, according to Montaigne, are "vain and irresolute
men"-when they are not outright "fools." Thus the script of the law, its
universal and formal character, is tainted by the faulty complexion of its
authors, who seek to perpetuate its authority by drawing upon its virtual
credit.
Following this stinging account of law, medicine fares no better. 16 Mon-
taigne describes the limits of medicine as an institution that legislates in kind
the experiences of the body. While medicine "professes always to have expe-
rience as the touchstone of its workings" (III, 13: 827), its relation to expe-
rience is circumstantial and indirect, since, as Montaigne points out, doctors
have no direct experiences of the diseases they are treating. Rather, their
experience of disease is through its manifest signs, representations that are
often tangential and not always on the mark. 17 Medicine's descriptive and
prescriptive character often fails in the face of the contingent particulars of
disease:
For the others guide us like the man who paints seas, reefs and ports while
sitting at his table, and sails a model of his ship there in complete safety.
Throw him the real thing, and he does not know how to go at it. They make
a description of our diseases like that of the town crier proclaiming a lost
horse and a dog: such-and-such a coat, such-and-such a height, such-and-
such ears; but present it to him, and he does not know it for all that. (III, 13:
827)
The doctor is like an artist or model-maker, who though distant from a

certain experience must understand it through a simulated model that re-
creates and reproduces the workings of nature. The risk is that medicine
relies on such general forms of description that it may be no easier to iden-
tify an illness than to name the particulars of a lost dog or horse. The ani-
mal in question is rendered almost unrecognizable by its schematic and
notational representation. Thus medicine is revealed to be more art than sci-
ence, for its mission is to make legible the experiential body in order to
achieve through a simulated model an understanding of actual illness. 18
Consequently, whether one attempts to describe or to legislate the body,
either through jurisprudence or medicine, the conventional and contractual

nature of these institutions (whose laws are on credit) reduces the body to a
set of principles whose arbitrary and often irrelevant character denies the
body's complex modalities of existence. This is why Montaigne keeps on
coming back to a study of himself, to his self as a "university" wherein his
effort to understand himself as subject, as object, and as representation will
lead to the congruence of metaphysics and physics. Alluding once again to
Aristotle, he explains: "I study myself more than any other subject. That is
my metaphysics, that is my physics" (III, 13: 821). If Montaigne returns
back to the self, it is not out of personal indulgence. Rather, this return to
the self functions as the mark of the necessary detour that all representation
of knowledge in general must make in attempting to inscribe within repre-
sentation the position of the observer. This effort to "conform" to oneself
implies less the affirmation of a stable entity than a faithfulness to the diver-
sity and multiplicity of experiences that define it. For what Montaigne dis-
covers through writing is precisely his lack of a stable identity. The effort to
represent the self by bringing it into nomination entails its actual propaga-
tion into multiple entities. Montaigne's designation of the self as "me" (moi)
is echoed in his self-reflexive double "myself" (moi-mesme), but also in his
reference to himself as "another-myself" (un autre moy-mesme). This refer-
ence to oneself as if in the third person captures the alterity of the self as rep-
resentation. The gesture of coming back to oneself in order to represent the
self as the ground of experience leads to the impossibility of "conforming"
to the self as a predetermined schema. Thus, Montaigne's appeal to confor-
mity is deceptive insofar as it involves an adherence not to a given schema,
but to the multiple forms or embodiments of experience.
If the body, like experience, resists categorization, are we simply to sup-
pose that no rules govern it? Quite the contrary, for we find that Montaigne
circumscribes and designates the limits of the body. Rather than merely
writing about it, Montaigne urges us to listen to and read the body, in order
to understand the worldly limitations that define it through habits, customs,
sickness, and pleasure. The body, as the object of our observation that we
consider to be most private, personal, and intimate, is also that part of our-
selves which bears extensively the imprint of our society and culture. By val-
orizing custom and habit, Montaigne emphasizes the social construction of
the body: "It is for habit (coustume) to give form to our life, just as it
pleases; it is all powerful in that; it is Circe's drink, which varies our nature
as it sees fit" (III, 13: 827).19 This emphasis on habit as reiterative experi-
ence brings into view the body's receptive and constructed character. This
receptive submission of the body to a social imaginary embeds within it the
Montaigne's Scriptorial Bodies • 23
very practices that come to define its daily complexion. Rather than
affirming the mastery of reason over the body, Montaigne inscribes the
body within the social fabric that comes to constitute its very texture: "habit
(coustume), imperceptibly, has already so imprinted its character (carac-
teres) upon me in certain things that I call it excess to depart from it" (III,
13: 830).20 The body bears the marks or characters of habits and customs,
inscribing upon it the traces of the social and cultural symbolic. At the very
moment when one attempts to experience the body in its most "proper"
sense, through its personal and private habits and gestures, Montaigne finds
that the body has already been written and marked by its social and cultural
context. Like an inherited illness passed on through genealogical reproduc-
tion, customs and habits reinscribe the self in the domain of social and cul-
tural reproduction. Montaigne's kidney stones, an illness inherited from his
father (Pierre de Montaigne), function like the mark of the alterity of culture
that infuses the proprietary domain of the self, immixing and contextualiz-
ing its nature. Just as death is constantly confusing and mixing with life,
inscribing within the passage of life the decomposition of bodily forms, so
does Montaigne discover within himself the radical infusion of an otherness
that is indissociable from his own representation.
Even when he attempts to experience his own body directly, Montaigne
finds that his desires and appetites are often regulated by external agents.
The discourse of the body is mediated through a system of medical, legal,
and cultural interdictions that devalue its authority. His stoical reiteration
of the authority of desire, his affirmation that the body is governed by prin-
ciples founded on pleasure, rather than discomfort or pain, makes explicit
his effort to rehabilitate the experiential aspects of the lived body:
Both in sickness and in health I have readily let myself follow my urgent
appetites. I give great authority to my desire and inclinations. I do not like to
cure trouble by trouble; I hate remedies that are more nuisance than the dis-
ease .... The disease pinches us on one side, the rule on the other. Since there
is a risk of making a mistake, let us risk it in pursuit of pleasure. (III, 13: 832)
But the body in question here is more expansive than the physical body. For
to speak about desire and pleasure means to speak about the body both as
experienced and as imagined. Desire does not issue simply from the body,
but involves mediation through the intervention of the imagination, a fac-
ulty that though proper to the individual is mediated and constructed
through others.
Montaigne underlines the significance of imagination (fantaisie) and its
relation to desire: "And then how much it is to satisfy the imagination (fan-
taisie)! In my opinion that faculty is all-important, at least more important

than any other. The most grievous and ordinary troubles are those that
fancy loads upon us" (III, 13: 833).2\ If Montaigne valorizes the imagina-
tion above all other faculties, including reason, it is because the imagination
is the faculty that mediates desire in terms of its tangible, physical forms.
Like Thomas Aquinas, who defines imagination (fantasia) as the faculty that
mediates the relation of the body to the soul, so does Montaigne privilege
the imagination as the faculty of embodiment,22 Fantasy, the imagination,
makes desire tangible as embodied form, thereby bringing representation
within the purview of the body. Thus the body in Montaigne emerges as
more than a pure physical and material entity, as also an imagined and rep-
resented one; for the logic of desire is representational, and the body that
incarnates it becomes its modality of expression.
To give authority to desire is to learn to address the body, both as expe-
rienced and as imagined. In Montaigne, the body "speaks," even as its com-
plexion has already been written, scripted through custom and habit. But
what does the body "say" when it "speaks"? Does it have a voice, a partic-
ular tone or tenor? Montaigne focuses on the relation of body to speech, by
first observing that when he is wounded or sick, talking excites him and
hurts him as much as any other irregularity he may commit (III, 13: 834). By
emphasizing the physical impact of speech, Montaigne brings the voice
within the realm of physical expression, at the same time as he brings the
body into the realm of speech. But speech is by nature dialogical; it is issued
as an address and it involves an addressee.
Speech belongs half to the speaker, half to the listener. The latter must be pre-
pared to receive it according to the motion it takes. As among tennis players,
the receiver moves and makes ready according to the motion of the striker
and the nature of the stroke. (III, 13: 834)
The dialogical character of speech brings into relief an understanding of the

body as a representational and experiential entity that is constituted as both
process and mediation. Rather than conceiving the body as a fixed, inert,
and voiceless entity, Montaigne suggests that the experiential body commu-
nicates; its configuration and complexion "speak" not as a single voice or
tone, but as a mediated exercise, a dialogue of multiple voices that must be
attuned to each other.
By equating the body with speech and the gesture of communication,
Montaigne focuses on the body as a site for mediated representation, where
the body itself is conceived as a medium of, and for, exchange. 23 The phys-
ical reality of the body thus becomes inscribed in communication, as part
and parcel of representation. This is why Montaigne can describe his essays
as "consubstantial" with both his written, represented self and his physical
body. For if the body has been scripted by custom, habit, illness and plea-
sure, its legibility emerges in the order of exchange and dialogue, as a
process of a mediated understanding. As the body "speaks," its speech
emerges in the mode of an address whose destination and whose destiny
coincide in the gesture of communication. Thus the body never "speaks"
directly, since it is merely the trace of a communicative exchange, mediated
by both experience and imagination.
The principles of pleasure that govern the body as a physical and as an
imaginary identity are adumbrated by the very limits of its embodiment as a
material and mortal entity. The physical decomposition of the body,
marked through falling teeth and extruded kidney stones, is echoed by a
mental rigidity and the gravity of the aging body. Both become the living
emblems of the reality of death, the anamorphic inscription of the corpse
onto the living body. If the writing of the Essays corresponds to a process of
both incorporation and elimination, this process is one that confirms the
congruence of composition and decomposition in the essay. Commenting
on his kidney stones, Montaigne expresses his interior perception of other-
ness, of an indigestible, inassimilable difference, as a kind of death experi-
enced by the body: "It is some big stone that is crushing and consuming the
substance of my kidneys, and my life that I am letting out little by little
(vuide) or voiding, not without some natural pleasure, as an excrement that
is henceforth superfluous and a nuisance" (III, 13: 840). Underlying the
coincidence of life and excrement, Montaigne stages the drama of his own
existence as an event where he is no longer an active agent. 24 Here the body
is consumed and destroyed by a stone (pierre or gravelle) that, although an
extension of his own body, threatens to empty out and void the substance of
his own life. The kidney stone becomes the inassimilable difference, the
memento mori of the Essays, of an autobiography that takes the form of a
thanatography.
The inscription of death upon the body and the complexion of the self is
made explicit in a passage from "Of Experience" where Montaigne
describes his painful efforts to pass a kidney stone. The kidney stone is both
a product of the body and the mark of an inassimilable difference, which the
self must eliminate in order to protect its bodily integrity. The stone (pierre)
doubly alludes to the author, both to his father's first name (Pierre) and
implicitly to his surname (Montaigne, which also means "mountain" in
French). Thus it would appear that Montaigne's affliction is both physical
and nominal, since as he explains, it bears the mark of the paternal imprint
(faveur paternelle). When Montaigne describes the passing of the kidney

stone, he does so in the context of a complex citational structure, where he
is at once agent, spectator, and commentator of the experience of bodily
pam:
There is pleasure in hearing people say about you: There indeed is strength,
there indeed is fortitude! They see you sweat in agony, turn pale, turn red,
tremble, vomit your very blood, suffer strange contractions and convulsions,
sometimes shed great tears from your eyes, discharge thick, black and fright-
ful urine, or have it stopped up by some sharp rough stone that cruelly pricks
and flays the neck of your penis; meanwhile keeping up conversation with
your company with a normal countenance, jesting in the intervals with your
servants, holding up your end in a sustained discussion, making excuses for
your pain and minimizing your suffering. (Ill, 13: 836-37)
Montaigne's painful description coincides with a dramatic spectacle, where

Montaigne self-reflectively and in conversation with others experiences the
body's convulsive efforts to expel the kidney stone. The effort to pass
the stone coincides with the effort to speak. All the while, the effluvium of
the two is experienced at the limits of pain and the ensuing pleasure of relief.
The complex citational structure of this scene serves to emphasize, accord-
ing to Jean Starobinski, the inability to articulate the body any way but indi-
rectly, since the appeal to the internal reality of the body renders inevitable
the recourse to external witness:
Even as the individual suffers in the depth of his flesh, meaning can be artic-
ulated only when the experience of suffering makes contact with others: for
us, Montaigne's readers, sweating, turning pale, flushing and trembling are
events that we experience by identifying ourselves first with the man racked
by his stone and then with the spectators that his text gathers around him to
watch his suffering. It is because he shows himself as he is looked upon from
the outside that we have a sense of participating in what he feels within. 25
This conjunction of speech and the experience of eliminating the kidney

stone captures the liminal nature of the body, experienced as self and other,
as the site of sexuality and excretion, of pleasure and pain. The attempt to
delimit the proper character of the body through the expulsion of the for-
eign body of the kidney stone leads to violent disruption, since neither the
body nor the self can be reappropriated exclusively. The alterity of the
paternal imprint and the alterity of other authors will continue to immix
and redefine the physical and discursive complexion of the author.
The process of writing the essays by registering his thoughts (mettre en
rolle or enroller) involves organic and bodily principles based both on plea-
Montaigne's Scriptoriai Bodies· 27
sure and on loss. As Montaigne explains, he composes and reconciles him-

self to the loss of his own life, without regret, as something that by its nature
must be lost (III, 13: 853). If Montaigne composes and proposes himself in
the Essays, he does so in a "thousand forms" that-rather than merely
"passing time," letting it flow away or sidestepping it-mark his taking
charge of his life, owning up to it and embodying it to the fullest. By defining
writing as a process governed by the principles of composition and decom-
position, which correspond to the movement of resemblance and difference
in the essay, Montaigne successfully depicts himself as a being in passage,
that is, as a figure of multiple embodiments engendered by the movement of
style.
Sexuality: Gendered Styles
Unlike the titles of many of Montaigne's essays, which name his topic
explicitly, the title" On Some Verses of Virgil" suggests that this work is but
a literary commentary on Virgil's verses. And yet this is the essay that
addresses the question of sexuality, thereby inviting the reader to ask why
sexuality may be situated in the realm of literary commentary, instead of
being named and discussed directly as a topic. At the beginning of the essay,
Montaigne, burdened by the exigencies of his aged body, revisits retrospec-
tively the sensual pleasures of his youth. 26 A closer look at the opening pas-
sage reveals that the burdens of the aged body, its being "too sedate, too
heavy and too mature," are but the reflections of thoughts, which though
"fuller and more solid, ... are also more absorbing (empechans) and more
burdensome (onereux). "27 He then clarifies the nature of these weighty
thoughts: "Vice, death, poverty, disease, are grave (graves) subjects and
grieve us (grevent)" (III, 5: 638). The French words graves and grevent sug-
gest not only the ponderous materiality of thought, but also the capacity of
thoughts to figuratively engrave and mark the body.28 This incisive engrav-
ing and marking of the body is underlined subsequently by Montaigne's
avowed sensitivity to the slightest pains: those that previously only
"scratched" him, now "pierce him through and through" (III, 5: 640).
Montaigne's text thus introduces itself in terms of its figural force, since it
outlines a process of inscription that scrambles the distinction between body
and thought. 29 Mediating between body and thought, material text and its
formal organization, the issue of style is obliquely scripted into the fabric of
the essay. Style is alluded to figuratively as the capacity to form and inform,
and literally, since the meaning of stylus is that of an instrument for both
writing and engraving. Montaigne's allusion to style at the beginning of the

essay suggests an alternative manner for conceiving the body, as a process of
inscription and as a figurative movement. It also serves to alert the reader
that the question of sexuality, raised later in the essay, may be inflected by
style.
When after many deferrals, Montaigne begins to speak about sexuality,
the topic of sex is raised through a complex web of citations from Latin,
which serve both to dissimulate and also to emphasize the topical nature of
the subject matter. 30 As Terence Cave points out, "It might seem, indeed
that Latin is used as a kind of veil to hide the ultimate pudenda: when the
writer wants to speak disparagingly of his own genitals, he does so by quot-
ing the Priapeia. "31 While Cave astutely observes that quotations, and in
particular Latin quotations, are used to carry the weight of Montaigne's
most explicit sexual references, the question lingers as to why Montaigne,
who according to Cave "claims the right to uninhibited self-portrayal,"
chooses to represent sexuality through such an indirect and complex cita-
tiona 1 structure. Why is the topic of sexuality embedded in what the reader
experiences as a set of deliberate deferrals? What is more, do the style and
the figurative structure of this essay provide us with information about the
nature of sex as a topic?
A preliminary clue to these questions can be found in Montaigne's com-
ment in an earlier essay, "Of the Education of Children," that Latin, not
French, was his mother tongue (I, 26: 128-30). According to Montaigne, his
father's wishes were that while he was still nursing, he be put under the
charge of a German tutor who taught him Latin. 32 The rest of the family
complied with this unusual educational experiment. And it was not until
after the age of six that he came to master the use of French, his native
tongue. Thus it was that his first taste for books came from the pleasures he
experienced in reading Latin authors such as Ovid and Virgil. This reversal
of the maternal and paternal tongue, of the language of institutions and the
language of affect, may help explain Montaigne's preference for Latin as a
language of affective expression. But this gendered reversal of tongues or
languages, this crossover and hybridization of the maternal and the pater-
nal, the affective and the institutional, also suggests that Montaigne's under-
standing of sexuality and gender may be inflected by his particular linguis-
tic experience. Given this nonessentialist account of language, mediated as a
set of transitions from one language to another and as the translation from
one text to another, would the representation of sexuality in language also
take on this provisional and conditional cast?
When Montaigne, after lengthy digressions, finally gives us a representa-
tion of the sexual act, he does so by quoting Virgil; hence, the title of the
essay. As Montaigne explains, this representation of Venus in poetry is more
alive than life itself: "Poetry reproduces an indefinable mood that is more
amorous than love itself. Venus is not so beautiful all naked, alive, and pant-
ing as she is here in Virgil" (III, 5: 645). The depictive powers of poetry are
such as to animate things in an imaginative manner that exceeds their ordi-
nary reality.33 A reproduction of life carries greater power than life itself,
thereby displacing the sexual referent with a textual one. 34 The process of
reproduction, of generating copies, enhances as it were the original, sug-
gesting that sexuality itself is indelibly tied to its transposition and displace-
ment into a poetic representation.
However, Montaigne is not content with Virgil's poetic representation of
eroticism between Venus and Vulcan, which takes place in a marital con-
text. He supplements Virgil's erotic scene with Lucretius's description of
Venus's adulterous enjoyments with Mars. 35 He thus substitutes the
description of one erotic scene with another, which he finds more appropri-
ate because of its illicit character. In both of these cited passages, the sexual
act is suspended between speech and silence, as a transition bridging the gap
between the two sexes. 36 Montaigne then proceeds to expand his discussion
of eroticism to a more general reflection on Lucretius's and Virgil's styles
and their capacity for portraying the erotic:
When I ruminate that rejicit (flings), pas cit (devours), inhians (wide-
mouthed), molli (soft), (ovet (fondles), medullas (marrow), labe(acta (trem-
bling), pendet (suspended), percurrit (runs through), and that noble circun-
{usa (blended), the mother of the pretty in{usus (out-poured), I despise those
petty conceits and verbal tricks that have sprung up since. These good people
needed no sharp and subtle play on words; their language is all full and copi-
ous with a natural and constant vigour. They are all epigram, not only the
tail but the head, stomach and feet. There is nothing forced, nothing drag-
ging; the whole thing moves at the same pace. "Their whole contexture is
manly; they are not concerned with pretty little flowers." [Seneca] This is not
a soft and merely inoffensive eloquence; it is sinewy and solid, and does not
as much please as fill and ravish; and it ravishes the strongest minds the most.
(III, 5: 664-65)
Montaigne literally welds and weaves together Lucretius's and Virgil's

erotic vocabulary, since rejicit, pascit, inhians, pendet, and circunfusa come
from Lucretius, while molli, fovet, medullas, labefacta, percurrit, and
infusus come from the earlier quoted Virgil textY He even implies a filia-
tional, generative, even reproductive relation between the two texts, since
the Lucretian circunfusa (blended) is described as the "mother of the pretty
infusus (out-poured)." 38 This sense of borrowing, of immixture, contexture,

and engenderment between these two texts is further emphasized by the sex-
ualized vocabulary that brings together male and female activities and
attributes. Speaking about sexual intercourse, Montaigne resorts to forms
of verbal exchange or intercourse that issue out of his verbal coupling with
the two Roman poets. The generative dialogue instituted between the two
Roman texts produces Montaigne's own text, as an interstitial entity.39 It
thus becomes paradigmatic for the representation of sexuality itself as inter-
stice and as quotation, that is, of sexuality not constituted nominally, in an
essentialist mode, but dialogically, as performance. 4o
Montaigne's admiration for Virgil's and Lucretius's styles is expressed in
a language that, at first sight, has an explicit, virile character: "their lan-
guage is all full and copious with a natural and constant vigOr."41 But the
virility in question is not localized. It is not a phallic extension of the text,
but, rather, intrinsic to its general texture. 42 When Montaigne quotes
Seneca, one of the classical proponents of a virile style ("Their whole con-
texture [contextus] is manly"), this ostensible affirmation of a virile style, as
opposed to a soft and inoffensive eloquence, constitutes an affirmation of
the tensile solidity of texture. 43 But in French, the language of Montaigne's
essay, the word for texture (contexture) also has feminine connotations
(con-texture), thus infusing female sexuality into the notion of texture. 44
Moreover, it is important to note that Montaigne chooses to uproot
Seneca's pronouncement about virile texture, by recontextualizing and
reweaving it within the fabric of his own essay, written in French. As
opposed to Latin, French "succumbs under a powerful conception," "grow-
ing limp and giving way under you" (III, 5: 666), thus suggesting an inher-
ent weakness, and even the threat of impotence. 45 This insufficiency of
French language, which is less "pliable and vigorous" than its ancient coun-
terparts, is supplemented by its rhetorical manipulation and transposition
into the language of the essay.46
While expressing his admiration for the Latin authors, Montaigne reau-
thors and thus reissues their pronouncements by transplanting and trans-
posing them into the textured web of his own essay, written in French. As
he explains: "And forms of speech, like plants improve and grow stronger
by being transplanted" (III, 3: 665). Montaigne thus defers the virile elo-
quence of the Latin authors through an intertextual operation that has inter-
sexual overtones, since it mixes allusions to both sexes. The analogy
between sexual activity and the relation between the reader and the text
becomes less the insignia of male virility than the allegorical emblem of a
mold where masculinity and femininity are cast as reversible forms. As
Montaigne's Scriptorial Bodies· 31
Montaigne concludes his essay, "I say that males and females are cast in the
same mold; except for education and custom, the difference is not great"
(III, 5: 685).47 The reversibility that Montaigne ascribes to the two sexes is
not to be understood as a denial of sexual difference. Rather, it indicates dif-
ference's reconceptualization as a transitive, rhetorical gesture whose mean-
ing is derived from its transpositional or translational character. Just as the
referential character of sex is dislodged from physical reality and transposed
into representation, so does the meaning of sexuality emerge here as an
intertextual gesture marked by intersexual overtones.
Montaigne's use of borrowed Latin texts to represent the reality of sex
conflates the horizon of sexuality with that of poetry. The intertextual con-
junction of Latin and French texts opens up the horizon of sexuality transi-
tively, as the space of translation. Just as Montaigne revalues "language by
means of its displacement," so does sexuality gain meaning from its trans-
position. 48 Gender in this context emerges in the mode of quotation, not as
an essential characteristic, but as a rhetorical relation where meaning is gen-
erated through position and juxtaposition. If poetry "reproduces an
indefinable mood that is more amorous than love itself" (III, 5: 645), then
Montaigne's essay conjures up the sexual referent in its dialogical and inter-
textual structure more effectively than any nominal or purely descriptive
efforts. Understood in the register of human commerce or exchange, sexu-
ality derives its meaning from its transitional, intersubjective character. Its
reality is located in the order of the dialogue, the quotation, or the intertext,
that is, as contextually generated meaning.
The facticity of sex does not rely upon the enforced polarity between the
sexes, but on their potential reversibility. This can be seen most clearly in
the descriptions of the two sexes, which are defined less by their specific
anatomical nature than by their virtual status as projections of personal
imagination and cultural myth. Quoting Plato, Montaigne describes the
male sex as "tyrannical member" and a "furious animal," and the female
sex as a "gluttonous and voracious animal." While he ascribes violence to
the male sex in its desire "to subject everything to itself," this violence is also
present in the female sex in its "rage" to satisfy its hunger (III, 5: 654).
However, this initial affirmation of what appear to be conventional sexual
roles (insofar as the male is presented as active and the female as passive or
receptive) is undermined by a series of anecdotes demonstrating the incalcu-
lable nature of female sexual activity and pleasure. 49 Even in the case of
female chastity, this lack of sexuality or inaction is defined as more active
than actual sexual expression: "There is no action more thorny, or more
active than this inaction" (III, 5: 655). Not only is the virginity of women
revealed as a function of social strictures, but this sexual inactivity is

described as more active and arduous than forms of male virtue and valor.
Montaigne describes the sexes in terms of excess, less as a function of
their anatomical reference than as a function of the human imagination.
Anecdotes describing the immeasurable nature of female sexuality are jux-
taposed with anecdotes that grotesquely magnify male sexuality. 50 These
excessive representations of sexuality serve to demystify its mythic charac-
ter. In both instances, sexuality functions in the order of simulation and
myth, since its reality reflects the doubled projection of the personal and cul-
tural imaginary. In the case of male sexuality, the anatomical reality of the
male body is sublated by its excessive aggrandizement: "In the place of real
parts, through desire and hope, they substitute others three times life-size"
(III, 5: 654). And in the case of female sexuality, the queen of Aragon's
efforts to measure and legislate female pleasure in conjugal relations ends up
with the compromise formula of six times a day, "relinquishing and giving
up much of the need and desire of her sex" (III, 5: 650).51 This "easy and
consequently permanent and immutable formula" leads the doctors to cry
out: "What must the feminine appetite and concupiscence be when their
reason, their reformation, and their virtue are set at this rate?" (III, 5: 650).
Montaigne's playful comments place both male and female sexuality under
the sign of simulation and myth. This excess that he ascribes to female sex-
uality revalorizes its activity, correcting as it were through myth the mythic
projection of male sexual activity.
While Montaigne clearly understands the relationship between sexuality
and the imagination, hence its mythic character, he does not shy away from
what appears to be a more physically direct, almost anatomical, account of
both love and sex. Claiming to be leaving books aside, and speaking more
"materially and simply," he concludes that "love is nothing else but the
thirst for sexual enjoyment in a desired object, and Venus nothing else but
the pleasure of discharging our vessels" (III, 5: 668).52 But this discharge of
vessels that equates man, woman, and animal is no simple business, since
according to Montaigne it is the most common and yet the "most confused
of our actions" (III, 5: 668). Sexual pleasure is complicated and confused in
Montaigne's text because such pleasure, as subjective experience and
expression, is understood in an intersubjective mode. Sexual pleasure must
be both consensual and shared. Despite its individuated character, as an
experience proper to the expression of the body, the experience of sexual
pleasure, like other experiences, is governed through social categories of
convention and contract. It is a transaction, an exchange or commerce, that
Montaigne defines in the context of marriage as "mutual obligations" (III,
5: 647).53 But the reciprocity that Montaigne ascribes to sexual pleasure in

marriage turns out to be also present in the case of love. Speaking of love,
Montaigne comments: "Now this is a relationship that needs mutuality and
reciprocity. The other pleasures we receive may be acknowledged by rec-
ompenses of a different nature, but this one can be paid for only in the same
kind of coin" (III, 5: 682). While marriage may involve a variety of recom-
penses, the currency of sexual pleasure in love is solely in exchange, in pay-
ment in kind.
Montaigne critiques the idea of privileging sexual pleasure for its own
sake, of extracting it from the logic of exchange in order to hoard it for per-
sonal gain: "He who has no enjoyment except in enjoyment, who must win
all or nothing, who loves the chase only in the capture, has no business mix-
ing with our school" (III, 5: 671). As he explains, such an attitude is analo-
gous to forms of defilement, and even necrophilia: "I abhor the idea of a
body void of affection being mine" (III, 5: 672). Pleasure derived simply out
of possession, rather than reciprocity, is an act of defilement that reduces the
body to an inanimate object: "I say likewise that we love a body without
soul and sentiment, when we love a body without its consent and desire"
(III, 5: 673). Although Montaigne earlier affirmed the difference between
marriage and passion, since the first is ostensibly based on contract and has
posterity as its aim (III, 5: 645-46), while passion is founded "on pleasure
alone" (III, 5: 649), he is forced to admit that even in love pleasure is medi-
ated through an unspoken commitment: "I have kept my word in things in
which 1 might have easily have been excused" (III, 5: 679). Consequently,
sexual pleasure, whether sanctioned through official ceremony or purely as
reciprocal exchange, retains its transactional and transitive character.
Whether understood as commerce, exchange, or negotiation, the affirma-
tion of sexual pleasure functions under the sign of reciprocity, inscribing the
presence of another, and by extension the social, into the most intimate rep-
resentation and expression of the self. Even desire in Montaigne's text can-
not escape the logic of exchange; its meaning is dialogically defined as trans-
action, thereby scrambling the dichotomies of nature and culture.
Just as the representation of truth in Montaigne is defined not as univer-
sal, but as positional and context-bound (III, 13: 826), so does the repre-
sentation of sexuality emerge as the mark of a productive rather than essen-
tialist principle. To represent sexuality in the mode of quotation is to posit
the fluidity of its meaning as a product of its positional character. 54 Defined
by its context and articulation, the fluidity of sexual difference and its inter-
sexual overtones reflect the intertextual movements and productive charac-
ter of the essay as a genre. Neither essentially feminine nor masculine, the
mark of gender and the mark of genre coincide in the transitional movement
of the essay that offers itself both as text and as intertext. The productive
interplay between text and quotation becomes the shifting terrain for the
deployment of gender and genre as transitive categories.
The Autograph of Style
Montaigne's earlier reflections on Lucretius's and Virgil's styles also consti-

tute an implicit reflection on his own style. His examination of the material
and physical impact of words, and of their rhetorical and stylistic manipu-
lation, suggests that language does not simply bear meaning, but rather
embodies and generates it. As Montaigne observes: "Plutarch says that he
saw the Latin language through things. It is the same here: the sense illumi-
nates and brings out the words, which are no longer wind, but flesh and
bone. The words mean more than they say" (III, 5: 665). Noting Plutarch's
experience of the Latin language in the encounter with material things,
Montaigne extends this notion of materiality to the realm of language, inso-
far as words incarnate meaning, not as wind, but as flesh and bone. Rather
than considering the word as a "transparent sign of a world of substance
outside itself," Montaigne locates substance in the representational medium
of language. 55 The world of language and the world of things are here
enmeshed; their can substantiality attests to their shared capacities for
embodiment. Instead of treating language merely as an instrument of
expression, Montaigne inscribes its logic in the order of things. If "words
mean more than they say" (III, 5: 665), this is because speech generates
material and physical effects in excess of any intended meaning. Given this
incarnate and physical interpretation of language, the question of style
acquires new meanings as well. Style emerges, not as the artificial expression
of eloquence, but as the organic expression of a language that has been fash-
ioned and shaped, thereby inscribing the author's signature in its manner.
However, Montaigne's essays are not reducible to stylistic mannerisms, to a
set repertoire of stock figures and rhetorical conceits. Just as the essay
becomes, through its shifting texture and shape, the bearer of physical and
erotic eloquence, so does style emerge as a movement derived from the
deployment of the changing patterns of the figurative and rhetorical struc-
tures of the text.
Rather than separating form and content, Montaigne's style incorporates
thought and expression by emphasizing their material embodiment.
Expressing his admiration for Latin authors, Montaigne exclaims: "When I
see these brave forms of expression, so alive, so profound, I do not say 'this
is well said,' I say 'This is well thought.' It is the sprightliness of the imagi-
nation that elevates and swells the words" (III, 5: 665). Breaking down the
oppositions between thought and language and between form and content,
Montaigne brings them together under the aegis of the imagination as the
generative mechanism of embodied meaning. To say or express things well
is not a superficial matter of eloquence, but a matter of combining thought
and imagination. Thought attains its physical impact through its imagina-
tive embodiments, thereby achieving form through expression. At issue is
not style understood in its literal sense of "manual dexterity," as artistic
conceit and ornament, but rather as a manner of impression that materially
influences the soul: "The painting is the result not so much of manual dex-
terity as of having the object more vividly imprinted in the soul" (III, 5:
665).56
Just as the meaning of content may shift in terms of its stylistic disposi-
tion and composition in the essay, so may the use of language and particu-
lar forms of speech be renewed through their transposition into new con-
texts. Reflecting on both the material nature of the French language and the
manner of its usage, Montaigne emphasizes the seminal role of style as it
transposes certain forms of speech:
In our language I find plenty of stuff (etoffe) but a little lack of fashioning
(faffon). For there is nothing that might not be done with our jargon of hunt-
ing and war, which is a generous soil to borrow from. And forms of speech,
like plants, improve and grow stronger by being transplanted. (III, 5: 665)
His emphasis on fashioning (faffon), rather than just material (etoffe),

reveals Montaigne's insistence that the material fabric of his essay also pre-
sents formal and stylistic concerns. The question of style is not purely about
the choice of certain forms of speech, but also about their particular deploy-
ment in the essay. Montaigne's use of the metaphor of transplantation
expresses his metaphoric translation of conventional speech forms into the
particular idioms of his own essay.57 The meaning of language and its forms
of speech is not an essential given. Like value, it is generated through use
and circulation. Montaigne valorizes his own appropriation and manipula-
tion of language in physical terms: "Handling and use by able minds give
value to language ... by stretching and bending it" (III, 5: 665). The issue is
not innovating in language by bringing new words into it, so much as
enriching it by teaching "language unaccustomed movements" (III, 5: 665).
By wresting language from its accustomed usage, Montaigne redeploys lan-
guage by transposing and transplanting it, so that its meaning can be
renewed each time with its new position and disposition. This capacity for
fashioning language as plastic material becomes the imprimatur of style
understood as physical engagement with language in order to renew and
reactivate its representational potential.
Not only does Montaigne transpose forms of speech by revalorizing them
in new contexts, but he also transforms the speech of others when he
embeds their quotations in the fabric of his own text. However, Mon-
taigne's essay is fraught with the anxiety of borrowing from other authors;
he admits that "they may interfere with my style" (III, 5: 666). Admitting to
his own aping and imitative nature, Montaigne is conscious of the imprint
of others upon his own text: "Anyone I regard with attention easily imprints
on me something of himself" (III, 5: 667). While recognizing other authors'
presence in, and influence on, his text, Montaigne's emphasis on style or
fashioning, on his own manner of transposing and disposing the speech of
others, suggests a new way of understanding value and artistic originality.
Just as Montaigne appropriates forms of conventional language by refash-
ioning it as the bearer of "unaccustomed movements," so are his quota-
tiona I borrowings from others renegotiated through their inscription into
the fabric and formal movement of his essay. Functioning in the mode of
appropriation, the style and quota tiona I structure of the essay script an
encounter with alterity in the transpositional logic of the text. Insofar as this
appropriation is strategic and is redeployed in a particular manner, it
becomes the signature of a new way of defining the value of writing as reem-
bodiment, and of authorship as intersubjective embodiment.
Speaking of other forms of writing, such as those encountered in the sci-
ences or philosophy, Montaigne notes their specialized, artificial, and thus
alienating mode of address. He takes as an example his own attendant, his
page: "My page makes love and understands it" (III, 5: 666). However, this
page will be unable to recognize his actions in the philosophical writings
that are read to him. This example is particularly telling, since the word for
page (page) is identical to the word for a page of a book (or "attendant").
Conflating in the same breath his own page and the pages of the Essays,
Montaigne affirms the uniqueness of his own text in terms that refuse its
assimilation to more technical and specialized philosophical writings. The
problem is that such language fails to capture, because of its general char-
acter, the particular and contingent nature of experience. Hence his refusal
to travesty the content of his actions by dressing them up in the philosophi-
cal language of the schools: "I do not recognize in Aristotle most of my ordi-
nary actions: they have been covered up and dressed up in another robe for
the use of the school" (III, 5: 666). The language of the essay does not hide
or dress up its author by disguising or generalizing ordinary actions beyond

any common recognition.
Montaigne's resistance to representing experience, according to the
philosophical and writerly conventions of his time, is apparent in his mus-
ing afterthought: "If I were of the trade, I would naturalize art as much as
they artify nature" (III, 5: 666). His claim to naturalize art reflects his par-
ticular position as a writer who seeks a new manner for representing ideas.
The claim to "naturalize art," rather than "artify nature," alludes both to
his conceptual emphasis on experience and to its physical and material
embodiment in the essay. Montaigne's reference to his page's making love
and understanding it, captures in effect the physical and material interplay
of the pages of the essay. The allusion to sexuality, physically figured in the
very pages of the essay, reveals its pervasive presence throughout not merely
as topic but as matter and manner of representation. Sexuality and physi-
cality thus emerge here no longer as exterior forces that shape the text of
experience and that of the essay, but as intrinsic forces that govern the
movement of style. "On Some Verses of Virgil" thus stages a reflection on
the experience and representation of sexuality as a form of erotic expres-
sion, a stylistic movement engendered by the interplay of material content
and its changing forms.
Montaigne's interest in style understood as movement, rather than a sta-
tic representation, is also visible in other essays. Speaking of his portraits in
his essay "Of Experience," he observes their obsolescence and alterity in
regard to the present: "I have portraits of myself at twenty-five and at thirty-
five; 1 compare them with one of the present: how irrevocably it is no longer
myself!" (III, 13: 846). The problem of self-portraiture is not about simply
temporal differences, or the fact that such portraits are imbued with the
taint of mortality. Montaigne's discursive portraits raise more fundamental
questions about the relationship of being and identity to representation.
When Montaigne represents himself in writing, his self-reflective stance gen-
erates effects of alterity, the discovery of the self as an "another myself"
(autre may mesme). This difference that the process of writing inscribes in
the representation of the self leads to its proliferation as multiple embodi-
ments. 58 This is why it becomes impossible to capture the self, to seize it
other than as representations whose multiple, partial, and fragmented char-
acter figure its existence as a provisional entity.
In "Of Repentance," Montaigne explains that his ambition is not to por-
tray being, but its passing: "I do not portray being: 1 portray passing. Not
the passing from one age to another, or, as the people say, from seven years
to seven years, but from day to day, from minute to minute" (III, 2: 611).
But how does one portray passage? If being is elusive, then its imperceptible
passages are all the more so. In "Of Vanity," Montaigne hints that his desire
for change finds expression in the concurrence of style and thought: "I seek
out change indiscriminately and tumultuously. My style and my mind alike
go roaming" (III, 9: 761). Reflecting on the flux and mobility of nature,
Montaigne's essays locate in the movement of style the conflation of
thought and its changing forms. 59 In the essay "Of Experience," the pursuits
of the mind are described as "boundless and without form": "It is an irreg-
ular, perpetual motion, without model and without aim. Its inventions
excite, pursue, and produce one another (s'entreproduisent)" (III, 13: 818).
The stylistic discontinuities of the material text of the Essays reflect the
changes and rapid movements of the mind, setting both the subject matter
and the reader into motion.
Commenting on his own style, Montaigne in "On Some Verses of Virgil"
stages a kind of internal dialogue with the reader and his own text, docu-
menting the stylistic particularities of his own work:
When I have been told, or have told myself: "You are too thick in figures of
speech. Here is a word of Gascon vintage. Here is a dangerous phrase." (I do
not avoid any of those that are used in the streets of France; those who would
combat usage with grammar make fools of themselves.) "This is ignorant
reasoning. This is paradoxical reasoning. This one is too mad. You are often
playful: people will think you are speaking in earnest when you are making
believe." "Yes," I say, "but I correct the faults of inadvertence, not those of
habit. Isn't this the way I speak everywhere? Don't I represent myself true to
life? Enough, then. I have done what I wanted. Everyone recognizes me in my
book, and my book in me." (III, 5: 667)
Montaigne's dialogue with the reader and with himself, his answers to the
reader's objections concerning his peculiar choice of words and paradoxi-
cal, even maddening, reasoning, constitutes his affirmation of his style of
writing, which bears the authentic signature of the author as he attempts to
represent himself true to life (vivement), as being alive. Quoting itself, the
text of the essay establishes an internal conversation that mimics through its
own address both the presence of the author and that of the reader, thereby
creating the illusion of life. As Richard Regosin notes: "Montaigne claims
his real, physical presence in the work, both by saying he is there and by giv-
ing the reader the sense that he is there. "60 This live representation of the
author thus emerges not merely as a textual conceit of the author, but rather
as a stylistic inscription of presence generated through quotational and
interstitial movements.
This quotational and self-generative aspect of Montaigne's essays allows
Montaigne's Scriptoriai Bodies. 39
the text to reproduce its author with the utmost sincerity and fidelity, sug-
gesting through its physical immediacy its capacity to intercept and directly
address the reader. 61 It is not surprising, therefore, to hear Montaigne say,
"If there are any persons, any good company, in country or city, in France
or elsewhere, residing or traveling, who like my humor and whose humors
I like, they have only to whistle in their palm and I will go furnish them with
essays in flesh and in bone" (III,S: 640). Readers only have to whistle in
their palms to be provided with Montaigne's presence, furnished through
the essay, not merely as writing matter, but as flesh and bone. The illusion
of presence that the Essays foster is provisional upon a performance enacted
by the written text, which effectuates the corporeal incarnation of its
author. Montaigne's embodiment in his encounter with the reader reflects
the movement that the text initiates and then perpetuates as a literary per-
formance. 62 Reaching out its fingers to the reader, the fabric of Montaigne's
essay grabs hold of us, all the while enfolding and unfolding its author
before our very eyes. 63
While borrowing from many other authors and decrying his imitative
nature, Montaigne inscribes through his style the trace of an irretrievable
difference, that of having lived and having represented his experience in the
most original manner possible. Montaigne's stylistic originality demarcates
the Essays from the works of the past and differentiates them from any
common or traditional use of language, allowing the author to rightfully
claim: "In Paris I speak a language somewhat different than at Montaigne"
(III,S: 667).64 The language of the Essays is particular to its author, like a
regional dialect. It reflects the position of an author whose provisional
embodiment is constituted through the particular handling and redeploy-
ment of language as contextualized performance. The incorporation of
other voices and other authors into the fabric of the text defines the alterity
of its complexion. Thus the quotational structure of the Essays attests to
embodiment, not merely as topic, but as the very mechanism that subtends
the production and proliferation of the essays. The manual dexterity of the
author inscribes within the language of the Essays the autograph of style,
which redefines representation in the very process of attempting to repro-
duce itself.
If Montaigne in "Of Experience" speaks about a "culture of the body,"
this is because he seeks a new kind of human wisdom, one that takes into
account the self's "mixed condition" or constitution (III, 13: 850). Operat-
ing "close to the ground," Montaigne chooses not only to speak about expe-
rience and the body, but to rethink the nature of wisdom as a knowledge
that is commensurate to, and reflective of, the exigencies of the body. Mon-
taigne's admission that "transcendental humors" frighten him like lofty and
inaccessible heights represents his rejection of conventional forms of wis-
dom or knowledge, of forms that seek to exceed the human condition.
Whether it involves forms of idealization or devaluation, such wisdom is
prosthetic, to the extent that it relies on the body even as it seeks to over-
come its limits. As Montaigne trenchantly concludes: "Yet there is no use
our mounting on stilts, for on stilts we must still walk on our own legs. And
on the loftiest throne in the world we are still sitting only on our own rump"
(III, 13: 857). The wisdom of the Essays and their legacy to posterity will be
that of a hybrid knowledge that is "intellectually sensual" and "sensually
intellectual" (III, 13: 850). Rather than separating the body from the soul,
and ideas from their representation, this wisdom will take the body both as
a point of departure and as destination, while recognizing embodiment as
the horizon of possibility of its always provisional condition.
Chapter 2
Emblematic Legacies: Regendering the
Hieroglyphs of Desire
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

-Shakespeare
Although widely read and broadly disseminated throughout the first half of
the seventeenth century, Honore d'Urft's monumental pastoral novel Astrea
(L'Astree, 1607-27) soon lost its appeal to the general public.! This decline
in interest reflected a shift in taste of the readerly public, who, guided by the
emergent classical aesthetics in the second half of the seventeenth century,
demonstrated a preference for the leaner and more tightly structured novella
(nouvelle), as evidenced by the success of Mme de Lafayette's The Princess
of Cleves (1678).2 Such a development is not altogether surprising, since the
novel's deliberate manipulation of figurative and literal language, as well as
its narrative conventions involving multiplying story lines, no longer corre-
sponded to the highly restrictive aesthetic criteria of verisimilitude and plau-
sibility that define classical norms and mores. 3 The novel's linguistic
excesses and its perceived preciosity are compounded by discontinuities in
time and space that fail to locate subjectivity as a unified agency. The
emphasis on illusion, deception, doubling, metamorphosis, and trans-
vestism further destabilizes the representation of both subjectivity and the
body. A veritable encyclopedia of love, documenting in over five thousand
pages its every possible permutation, Astrea shocks the reader by its unusual
conceit of representing the love interest of the two central characters,
Celadon and Astrea, through the foil of a love story between women. While
appealing to Neoplatonist ideals, the novel audaciously operates through
transvestism the material transformation of a male character into a female
protagonist, only to progressively unhinge gender positions and ultimately
the subjective agency of the protagonists. If this novel became illegible, first
for the classical readers who were no longer able to appreciate its allegori-
cal devices and representational structure, and then later for the modern
readers who were unable to overcome its perceived archaisms, this resis-
tance to legibility began to give way once it was understood that the novel's
representational structure is not merely the insignia of baroque style, but
perhaps a worldview founded on altogether different subjective and repre-
sentational premises. A brief overview of the critical approaches to baroque
style and its epistemological underpinnings will enable us to elaborate the
historical legacy of emblematic traditions that inform the novel's linguistic
and representational strategies.
The analogy of painting to literature, embodied in Horace's phrase ut
pictura poesis ("as in painting, so in poetry"), has been the implicit premise
that informs and guides baroque literary studies. 4 Once we consider the pre-
eminence of visual metaphors in baroque literature, the dominance of illu-
sion, and the trompe l'oeil character of both protagonists and narrative, the
impetus to apply pictorial categories to poetry is not surprising. In France,
the major approaches to baroque literary style are art-historical, based on
Heinrich Wolfflin's concepts of architectural and pictorial style elaborated
in Renaissance and Baroque (1888) and Principles of Art History (1915).5
Wolfflin associates the baroque with the painterly style, as opposed to the
linear style of the Renaissance, and defines it by its focus on open form, on
movement-as the expression of form in function, that is, on the thing in its
relations, rather than the thing in itself. 6 These features are the signatory
conventions of baroque representation: the "apprehension of the world as
shifting semblance."7 The baroque thus represents a new way of conceiving
plastic form, reflecting technical and artistic transformations in the way
vision is conceived and the manner in which it organizes the space of repre-
sentation. 8
Recent attempts to reassess the baroque have been marked by an effort to
move beyond stylistic considerations, in order to come to terms with its
specific historical character. 9 Concomitant to these approaches is the emer-
gence of philosophical studies that examine the baroque, not merely as the
expression of a style, but as a particular manner of apprehending and rep-
resenting the world, a worldview. 1o In this study, Wolfflin's observations
are recontextualized by considering Walter Benjamin's seminal contribution
to baroque aesthetics. In The Origin of German Tragic Drama (1928), Ben-
jamin observes that in baroque works, the "written word tends towards the
visual."!! This appeal to the visual establishes the plastic dimension of
baroque allegory as a "crossing of the borders of a different mode." 12 The
figurative character of the baroque represents for Benjamin the crossover of
poetic and pictorial conventions that baroque allegory enacts as it seeks to
go beyond expression in the self-conscious invocation of convention. 13
Emblematic legacies • 43
Instead of considering allegory as an illustrative technique, Benjamin exam-

ines it as a mode of thought, whose historical character is grounded in the
legacy of literary and visual emblem books of the late Renaissance and
the baroque. 14
Recent scholarship has provided us with a clearer understanding of the
historical and conceptual scope of this emblematic tradition. 15 Although
the earliest examples of emblem books have no illustrations, using epigrams
instead to suggest mental images, by the 1540s the emblem emerges as a
device in which a picture is framed by a title above and a motto below that
acts as a commentary on the image. 16 By the late sixteenth century, the
emblem becomes primarily a literary device whose function is to give figura-
tive reality to abstract concepts,17 The emblematic tradition thus represents
a particular way of communicating, compiling, and storing knowledge, one
in which intellectual conceits are translated into sensible images.
The emblem is a ternary representation, in which the visual content is
supplemented by a title, telling us what we are intended to see and by the
motto that tells us from what perspective-moral or otherwise-the image
and its title must be understood. The interplay of the visual and discursive
aspects of the emblem, between representation and interpretation, is alle-
gorical since "that which is depicted means more than it portrays."18 If alle-
gory as a symbolic mode represents a process of encoding knowledge, as
Angus Fletcher suggests, the question is how to think historically the specific
nature of seventeenth-century baroque allegory,19 As this study will show,
baroque allegory represents a particular manner of encoding literal meaning
by exploring its figurative character. The baroque takes as its subject matter
the very conventions that were used from antiquity to the Renaissance to
distinguish painting from poetry (defined respectively as "mute poetry" and
"speaking picture,,).2o As the embodiment of plastic and rhetorical arts, the
double nature of the emblem as mute poetry and as a speaking picture pro-
vides a conceptual nexus for rethinking the literal and figurative character of
baroque allegory.
Instead of thematizing such stylistic features as the obsession with illu-
sion, deception, doubling, metamorphosis, and transvestism, this study
demonstrates that these elements are an expression of Astrea's emblematic
worldview. Rather than documenting the presence of actual emblems in the
text, this study elucidates how representation is conceived and structured
emblematically, as a composite of speech and sight: the interplay of literal
and figurative elements. In Astrea, neither speech nor image functions as the
exclusive purveyor of meaning. By problematizing the relation between rep-
resentation and interpretation, between literal and figurative elements, the
novel stages its emblematic heritage through the interplay between word
and image. Baroque allegory thus presents us with a concept of representa-
tion whose ternary structure, as opposed to the modern binary conception
of the sign, enables us to conceive meaning as a convention whose interpre-
tative structure relies upon the mediation of literal and figurative elements.
This study of the legacy of these emblematic traditions in Astrea focuses
on their impact on the representation of subjectivity and the body. The
interplay of word and image informs the peculiar features of the novel's
depiction of the characters' apprehension, perception, and understanding of
the world in relation to landscape, to language, and to representations of
self and other. If the novel's protagonists appear to inhabit a world whose
phenomenological premises are different from our own, this is not simply
because they inhabit the utopic world of the pastoral. Rather, the emblem-
atic nature of the novel's depictions continues to attest to an "apprehension
of the world as shifting semblance," one where representation is not yet
grounded by foundational constraints. Within this representational frame-
work, even sexual difference fails to function as a stable referent or essence,
since difference is undermined by the play of always changing semblances.
This is why presentations of the body, gender, and eroticism in Astrea are
free of conventional oppositions and restraints, since notions of identity are
tied to the logic of appearance. In the pages that follow, the fluidity and free-
dom of the body, setting, speech, and gender will be read as a function of the
novel's implicit reflections on the play of representation.
Emblematic Settings: Narrative as Visual Script
The opening passage of Astrea describes the physical setting of the novel.
Despite its geographical verisimilitude, the description of this landscape has
been linked to pastoral aspirations. Yet the difficulty of orienting oneself
within this image is due to an excess, rather than a lack, of deictical mark-
ers, and this difficulty suggests that the image is a composite of divergent
points of view:
In the heart of the Country is a most beautiful plain girdled by as with strong
walls, by hills close by, and watered by the River Loire, which originating not
far off, glides gently almost through the midst of it . ... Many other rivulets
in diverse places go about bathing it ... one of the most beautiful of which
is Lignon, which though vagabond in its course, as well as dubious in its
source, runs meander-like through the plain, ... where the Loire receiving it,
Emblematic Legacies • 45
and making it lose its proper name, carries it as tribute unto the Ocean. (1:1,
1:9; emphasis added)21
Gerard Genette considers this landscape to be the embodiment of the con-

ventions of pastoral novels, a veritable Eden, whose value is purely sym-
bolicP Stressing the allegorical dimension of this pastoral space, he under-
lines the fact that this is not a "lived-in landscape." If by "lived-in" one
means that the landscape should function either as a scenic decor or a space
of containment, then this is clearly not the case. Unlike its modern counter-
parts, this landscape is not a secretion of the psychological or moral state of
the characters, as in the realist or naturalist novel,23 Nor does it function as
a coherent frame of reference, since the description is qualified by phrases
such as "close by," "not far off," "in diverse places," "vagabond in its
course," "dubious in its source," "meander-like," which confuse the ability
of the reader to attain a precise focus and totalizing view of the ensemble.
The geographical centrality of the Loire is undermined by the narrative
centrality of its tributary Lignon, which despite its physical marginality in
the frame of the description, functions as the dramatic locus of narration. In
this passage, several landscapes are conjoined, generating a sense of insta-
bility through metamorphosis. Already of dubious source ("douteux en sa
source"), Lignon is described by its loss of identity as it flows into the Loire
and loses its proper name ("luy faisant perdre son nom propre"). Thus, we
find ourselves on shaky ground, since the river Loire, or rather its minor
tributary Lignon, emerges less as a subject of location than as a "character"
in its own right. 24 The fact that the river Lignon emerges as an actual pro-
tagonist in the novel should not be altogether surprising, given the aquatic
obsession of the baroque. The centrality of water as a theme suggesting
fluidity, movement, and metamorphosis is manifest in its proliferation in
landscapes, gardens, and architectural elements. 25 However, this obsession
should not be mistaken with a fascination with nature, per se, such as we see
in the context of romanticism. 26
The author's formal dedication of his work, "The Author to the River
Lignon" [L' Autheur a la riviere de Lignon] at the head of the third part indi-
cates that the centrality of the river is comparable to that of the two main
characters, Astrea and Celadon. Lignon is addressed as an interlocutor and
accomplice of the author that does not merely witness the narration, but,
given the circuitous logic of the text, may be its very source. In his dedica-
tion, the author addresses the river directly, as both witness and muse of his
affective life. Lignon does not function as a passive source of inspiration.
Rather, the river is presented as having an active memory of events:
If you [Lignon] also have good memory of the agreeable occupations you
gave me, since your shores were quite often the faithful secretaries of my
imaginations and of the sweetness of such a desirable life, I am sure that you
will easily recognize that at this time I am neither giving nor offering you any-
thing new which you have not already acquired. (3:5-6; emphasis added)
If the novel is presented as a tribute to the river, this is because the river is
the original secretary of his imaginations, oddly recording ("conserveras
curieusement"), scrupulously preserving, and publicizing them to the vari-
ous river nymphs and gods. Lignon is thus posited both as the source of nar-
ration and as its authorizing agent. The author's indebtedness to the river is
such that the publication of his own work is presented as a repayment to
Lignon, as a tribute to its "authorizing agency."27 Thus the river is desig-
nated as the original site for the production of narrative, which corresponds
to its reproduction as narrative image and as script. The authority of the
author and the landscape become interchangeable, since it is no longer clear
which is the true source of the narration. Thus, from what appears to be
mere geographical description, we stumble upon allegory: the reduction of
the natural world to hieroglyphs whose characters shape the script of the
narrative.
In the third part of Astrea, the opening description of the novel is rein-
voked, not as an element of setting, but as the allegorical embodiment of a
state of mind. At this point, for reasons that will be elucidated later in this
chapter, Celadon, banished from sight by Astrea, returns to live with her
disguised as the druid priestess Alexis. Alexis invites Astrea to look at this
landscape, which is now the only living testimony of his former existence as
Celadon:
And upon this word, opening the window and both leaning over the ledge,
after looking about this and that way, Astrea began thus: Do you see,
Madam, the course of that river ... that is the fatal and defamed river
Lignon, along which you may perceive our hamlet to be seated .... If you
please to cast your eye a little upon the left hand, you may see the temple of
the good Goddess ... under which runs an arm of the detestable Lignon .
. . . Amongst the rest, I observed the picture of the goddess Astrea (for the
temple is dedicated unto her) much different from those by which they used
to represent her unto us: She is portrayed in the habit of a shepherdess. (2:81,
3:223-24)
Looking through a window, physically leaning on the ledge, or rather the

frame of this image, the two characters proceed to point out and discuss var-
ious features of the view. This is a wonderful moment in the novel, because
as readers we "see" the landscape that the characters inhabit and perceive.
This "fold" in the material structure of the novel provides insights into how
representation functions; that is, it provides an outlook on what constitutes
"looking" in the novel. In this context, the image of the river Lignon takes
on a new meaning. This time the description appears to follow more con-
ventional spatial rules, yet its rationale is less spatial than affective, for
Lignon is not just a river, it is a despicable one. Although this landscape is
more coherently organized, giving us, in effect, our first true view of the
scene, this view is itself a composite of two different perspectives, those of
Astrea and Alexis. This mediated perspective reflects the physical and psy-
chological distance that now enables the characters to read their lives in the
landscape. This act of reading, which corresponds to visual pointing and
interpreting, transforms the landscape into a text whose legibility relies on
the affective script of the characters.
At the heart of this description of the landscape lies another image, that of
the picture of the goddess Astrea disguised as a shepherdess. Surprisingly,
this portrait, as Astrea tells Alexis, resembles her. In true baroque fashion,
we have a series of receding representations in trompe l'oeil that enables
Astrea to discover and view herself immortalized in the landscape as a god-
dess within a temple. This discovery is not mediated through vision alone.
Rather, Astrea's ability to recognize herself in the image of a goddess is based
on her capacity to assume the script of Celadon's love, insofar as it has trans-
formed the landscape into narrative. This portrait of Astrea thus resembles
her improperly: its verisimilitude cannot be guaranteed either by her own
semblance or by her name. Despite their deictical properties, both image and
name emerge as unstable referents, since neither can define itself without
inscription into the texture of the other. The reflective mirrors generated by
the mise-en-abyme structure of this baroque text produce deictical effects,
but their referential scope is defined by the narrative fabric of the text.
Thus the protagonists of Astrea consider the landscape less a reflective
mirror than a scripted surface whose characters must be deciphered. The
only apparent exception to this rule, in the novel, is the allegorical "Foun-
tain of Love's Truth," a magic mirror of lovers' sentiments. As its title indi-
cates, this fountain provides the beholder with an image of love's truth,
reflecting the lover's innermost thoughts and desires. For Louise Horowitz,
the image of the fountain is the concrete symbol of the novel's "metaphysi-
cal base," of its Platonic presuppositions. Had access to this fountain not
been cut off, there could be no novel, since its absence is equated with the
generation of doubt: "doubt so great that it risks destroying the moral foun-
dation of the novel."28 If the absence of the fountain is to be equated with
the generation of doubt, we must examine how love's truth is revealed. Can
one even speak of love's truth without inquiring into the representation of
love as a source of illusion? In examining the fountain of love's truth, it soon
becomes apparent that the fountain reflects not only the desire of the lover,
but of the beloved:
You know what the property of this water is, and how it necessarily reveals
the most secret thoughts of lovers; for he who looks into it, shall there see his
mistress, and if she loves him he shall see himself by her: but if she loves
another, then the figure of that other shall appear ... as all other waters do
represent the body facing them, this one represents the spirits. Now the spirit,
which is only the will, the memory, and the judgment, when it loves, is trans-
formed into the thing loved; and this is why when you present yourself here,
it receives the figure of your spirit, and not of your body. (1:36, 1:93)
Upon looking into the fountain, the lover perceives the embodiment of
his/her desire: the reflected image of the beloved. The transparency of the
water yields forth the material shape of desire. This objectification of desire
into image, however, depends on the desire of the other, the beloved, whose
own desire mediates the visual reference of the beholder. Unless loved, the
beholder ceases to exist, or worse, the image of the beloved will be accom-
panied by that of the rival. The "truth" of this image of love depends not on
visual accuracy, but speech: the image can only come into existence as an
answer-a response to the image of another desire.
What is peculiar about the "reflective" properties of this fountain is that
the images it generates are the embodiment of thought. They are figures of
thought, rather than mere reflections of an external reality. The fountain of
love's truth is presented as the literal embodiment of Platonism, insofar as it
upholds the superiority of ideas over sensible reality. The fact that this foun-
tain does not reflect the lover, but the beloved, is explained by an appeal to
the Platonic and Neoplatonic beliefs that love involves the transformation
of the soul and its fusion with the love object. 29 This fusion, however, is
exaggerated in this passage to the point of caricature. For the beholder is lit-
erally erased from the image, as if s/he had no apparent physical existence.
Platonic doctrine emphasizes the fact that the sensible merely paves the way
for the intelligible. But in the baroque context, the sensible is no longer a
vehicle for signifying an idea different from itself. Rather, as the very incar-
nation and embodiment of the idea, it seems as if "the concept itself has
descended into our physical world, and we see it itself directly in the
image."3o The image of love's truth is the literal transcription of desire into
visual script. However, this image presents a fundamental problem, to the
extent that the physical embodiment of thought implies the potential disem-
bodiment of the beholder. Thus, the script of desire threatens, by its literal
character, to negate the potential subjective appropriation of the image.

Even when love is reciprocated, the lover's image is subordinate to the
beloved; the former stands next to the latter and is defined by it, thereby
inscribing one image into another and reducing them both to fragments.
Thus, in the baroque novel, the literal embodiment of Platonic and Neopla-
tonic doctrine represents the ideal as a ruin: an ideology whose decay is
scripted in and by representation. It is a poignant reminder that the evoca-
tion of this spiritual ideal exists as material fact only insofar as it is embod-
ied in representation.
The fountain of love, which is also the fountain of truth, provides the
lover not with a reflection of him- or herself, but with a picture of the
beloved. No matter how many times lovers try to lean over the fountain's
edge, to add their own image to their beloved's reflection, this effort meets
with failure. Thus it seems that the magical quality of the fountain is not
merely that of embodying desire, but denying narcissistic self-reflection.
This mirror reflects the desire for the other through the actual inscription of
the other into the picture. This image is an improper mirror of subjectivity,
insofar as the representation of desire appears to disenfranchise the charac-
ters of their own reflection. 3 ! The purloining of the lover's image by the
inscription of the rival reflects a linguistic fact: the lover's existence is pred-
icated on a response. The lover's gaze is contextualized by becoming subject
to the inscription of another's desire. Thus, neither the lover nor the beloved
can be objectified through their reduction to a pure reflection, since desire
must "speak" in order to become visible as an image. If the beloved does not
"answer" the desire of the lover, then the lover will not be reflected. This
interference in the subject's self-reflection, in its ability to see itself as an
image, marks the provisional status of subjectivity constituted in the modal-
ity of an address.
While the fountain of love's truth may be seen as a restaging of Ovid's
story of Narcissus in Metamorphoses, the overt rejection of specular self-
identification indicates that other narratives might be at play.32 Pausanias
mentions a less well known version of this myth, one in which Narcissus's
desire to seek out and contemplate his own reflection is the lamenting
answer to the loss of his twin sister. 33 In this version of the myth, the image
does not reflect the beholder, since it is the visual substitute for an absent
other, mourned through the echoes of resemblance. Visual representation
emerges in this instance, not as the insignia of presence, but as a substitute
for speech. It replaces an exchange between subjects with an image. How-
ever, this image no longer functions as an expression of narcissism-the
desire for the self as image-but reveals, rather, an absent other. This ver-
sion of the myth thus suggests the loss of the self, to the extent that sight
redefines the self as an improper site. This is why in the novel, the image is
never an object that can exist as a thing in and of itself. Rather, the image is
defined contextually through speech. Thus the gaze can no more objectify
an image than can names, in this novel of endless disguises, truly designate
the protagonists. The referential status of both image and language is in
question.
Anagrams: Language in Anamorphosis
If the representation of images in Astrea is deceptive, to the extent that their

meaning relies on the intervention of speech, this is equally true of the rep-
resentation of speech. This is not because characters explicitly attempt to
disguise what they say, but because speech is revealed to be an uncertain
mirror of meaning. Speech echoes with diverse meanings and images. Its
figurative character reveals that language is an unstable and mutable bearer
of meaning, like the liquid medium of the river. Having examined the scrip-
torial character of descriptive images in Astrea, it is important to under-
stand how language generates figurative effects. This is all the more impor-
tant because the entire plot of Astrea hinges on what some may regard as a
mere linguistic ploy. The hero, Celadon, attempts to respect to the letter (a-
la lettre-and what is at issue is the letter, or language) Astrea's injunction
not to show himself before her eyes: "I charge thee to never show thyself to
me, lest I command it" [garde-toy bien de te faire jamais voir a moy que je
ne te Ie commandeJ (1:2, 1:13). But he constantly violates the letter of the
law by producing anagrams of this injunction so that he can still see her,
even if this implies his own loss of identity. While he will appear to respect
the literal aspects of Astrea's injunction, he will violate its spirit by disobey-
ing her. In other words, Celadon restructures the terms or letter of the law,
in order to produce alternative readings and thus, new figurative meanings
that will enable him to see her.
Astrea begins where other novels end, with disaster (desastre). This ana-
grammatic play on the heroine's name Astree is by no means gratuitous. It
is part and parcel of the text's emblematic structure, which does not proceed
narratively, hut poetically, through a series of linguistic and figurative dis-
placements. 34 In his dedication to the river Lignon, d'Urfe explains that the
word "to love" (Aymer) used to be pronounced as "bitter" (Amer), thus
suggesting that speech is the bearer of deceptive echoes. Like-sounding
words may have different and, at times, even opposing meanings. Given the
fluidity of language, the word Aymer constitutes a material base that can
potentially generate different images, some in consonance, and others in
total dissonance with each other. It is not surprising that love (Amour) is
introduced in Astrea, as a flatterer who soon changes his "authority into
tyranny" [son authorite en tyrannie) (1:1, 1:9). This sudden turn in the plot
represents the linguistic ambiguity of love, the fact that its appropriation
through speech inscribes in love a double figure: the authority of love's
script may also correspond to the bitter anagram of tyranny.
In order to understand how d'Urfe explicitly problematizes speech as the
purveyor of figurative meaning in Astrea, we turn to an incident in which
Silvandre, frustrated by the unresponsiveness of Diana, seeks solace in the
echoes of his own voice. While he playfully invokes the mythological nymph
Echo, this gesture is framed by the understanding that the "oracular" pow-
ers of this nymph, her ability to speak, is nothing more than the physical
reflection of the voice as it encounters the obstacle of a material surface. Lis-
tening to his own voice, Silvandre experiences it as the expression of
another:
Nymph, who feels in these rocks so hollow.

The painful weight of love's great sorrow,
Will I ever of its heaviness be relieved? I deceived.
What! Sacred Echo, isn't it blasphemy
To charge thee with lying? What calumny!
Is it thy voice itself I hear above? Love.
(2:10; my trans.)35
While recognizing the fact that this "echo" effect was generated by his own
voice, "that he was his own answerer" [que c'estoit luy-mesme qui se
respondait), Silvandre cannot help but be pleased by the response, "feeling
great consolation from the auspicious answers which he received" [ressentir
une grande consolation des bonnes responces qu'il avoit receues] (1:200,
2:11). His pleasure involves hearing his own desire reflected back to him, as
if it were the voice of another. But how does speech generate these echoes,
and how do they become bearers of the script of desire? Similar sounds
resound with different images and may embody different meanings: a frag-
ment of the word for "relieved" (allegements), becomes "I deceived," or lit-
erally, "I lie" (je ments), and "thy voice itself" (ta voix mesme) is echoed
back as a command in the imperative: you must love ("Ayme"). Echo's
responses can be seen as a metareflection on the nature of language. She may
not be lying when slhe says "I lie" because speech itself, rather than the
speaker, is identified as the site of deception. When Silvandre asks whether
the voice he hears is her own (mesme), we witness his experience of the oth-
erness of his own voice, as it literally "speaks" back to him. 36 Echo's
response, "Ayme," playfully suggests that the reflexivity of language itself
may generate effects of desire, in a personally indiscriminate or generic
sense. These echoes are reflections, figurative folds in the material surface of
language suggesting that speech rather than the speaker is the site of illu-
SlOn.
While Silvandre explicitly recognizes the self-reflective character of the
echo, this does not prevent him from purloining this reflection as the
definitive sign of another subjective presence. Flattering his own desire, Sil-
vandre convinces himself that someone else is speaking through him. This
delusion, as the narrator of Astrea tells us, is fostered by the desire of lovers
to find hope, even when there is no apparent reason to justify it: "since it
seemed to him that nothing was governed by chance, but all by an all-wise
providence, he believed that those words which the rock returned to his ear,
were not pronounced by him with purpose, but were put into his mouth by
some good demon, that loved him" (1:200,2:11). In what appears to be an
extraordinary step, Silvandre proceeds to disown his own speech. He is the
speaker, but his speech belongs to someone else. He is merely the mouth-
piece for a demon who embodies his desire better than himself. Who, then,
is this fictitious demon or master ventriloquist who expresses Silvandre's
desire better than he can? This demon is speech itself, the alterity of lan-
guage as a symbolic order that "speaks" before it is spoken. Its arbitrary
appropriation by an individual subject reveals speech to be an improper
vehicle for communication, but a most propitious medium for generating
desire. 3 ?
If speech is shown to be an unstable medium, its written representation
fares no better. Although it would seem that writing stabilizes the inflections
of speech, script is itself vulnerable to misrepresentation. In Astrea,
Celadon's effort to consecrate the laws of love for eternity by engraving
them on a set of tablets is perversely undermined. Having dutifully recorded
the laws of love (on twelve tablets, as compared to Moses' ten), Celadon's
written record is falsified by his novelistic alter ego Hylas, ['inconstant, or
"the inconstant one" (2:194-201, 1:278-81). With a few erasures and sub-
stitutions on the part of Hylas, Celadon's pronouncements begin to express
a meaning that is entirely contrary to their former intent. Hylas's subversion
of meaning can be seen as inscribing in language a new voice, the figure of
another. Silvandre's explanation, that when he read these verses, "they were
other than they are now" [ils estoient autres qu'ils ne Ie sont], marks his
belief that the former verses alone expressed his amorous ideal. Silvandre's
question regarding this sudden alteration of his verses, "how do you think
such a new picture could be made so promptly" [pourroit-on avoir fait si
promptement un autre tableau] (1:281,2:200-201), reveals the mutability
of language, the fact that small alterations may inscribe images different
from, even contradictory to, an author's intent. Thus it is not surprising that
according to Diana they are both right: "for in one and the same place, you
may find what you both seek; you, Silvandre, may find it written as you did
read, and you, Hylas, as you did correct it" [car en un mesme lieu vous trou-
vez ce que va us cherchez taus deux. Vous, Silvandre, Ie lisant comme il
estoit escrit, et va us Hylas, comme vous l'avez corrigej (1:281, 2:201).
Diana's comment highlights the instability of represented language in
Astrea: the fact that, despite its supposedly univocal character, language's
scriptorial character can be manipulated so as to open up other figurative
interp reta ti ons.
In Astrea, the fragility of communication is most visible in the case of
love. The incessant efforts to communicate love, to ascertain it and assure it,
reveal its instability as a representation. This instability is literally captured
in the novel by the inaugural catastrophic shift in plot: from happiness to
disaster. The disaster that befalls Celadon and Astrea is due to their refusal
to recognize the allegorical character of love. Astrea forces Celadon to feign
love for other women in order to distract attention from their own love.
This ruse, however, quickly turns tragic when Astrea becomes convinced
that her lover is actually deceiving her. She stops believing in the illusory
character of the feint and mistakes it for reality. This error, the mistaking of
the feint for reality, reveals the impossibility of containing the meaning of
representation in the novel. The failure to recognize the allegorical charac-
ter of representation leads to the displacement and anagrammatic restruc-
turing of love (l'amour) into death (Ia mort).
Celadon's attempted suicide following the heroine's injunction, accom-
panied by the near death by drowning of the heroine herself, emblematizes
the dangerous anagrammatic displacement of Astree into desastre and
l'amour into la mort. The novel thus visualizes to the letter the heroine's
injunction. The sudden disappearance of the novel's protagonists into the
river Lignon, and allegorically into the fabric of the text, makes visible the
strategic analogy of the river and the text:
She believed him to be dead, for his feet still did lie in the water, his right arm
slackly stretched above his head, and the left half turned carelessly hanging
behind him and caught under his body. His neck was awry and folded for-
ward by the weight of his head which fell backward, his mouth half open,
and almost full of sand, dribbled on all sides; his face scratched and dirty in
some places, his eyes almost closed; and his hair which he wore very long, so
wet, that water ran like a stream from two springs along his cheeks, whose
effaced countenance was the very picture of death. The middle of his back
was so bent as to seem broken, and that made his belly seem even more
swollen, though filled with so much water as he once was full of himself. (1 :4,
1:16)
Graphically marked by the force of the river, the body becomes grotesque:
it is folded, broken, and discontinuous, to the point that its organic identity
is lost. 38 The contortion and fragmentation of the body is the trace of the
river's figurative force as it reshapes the body. It reconfigures the body's
organic form into a highly artificial shape, one akin to the water-spouting
statues of the baroque. This contorted reorganization of the body is an
expression of the absence of love; that is, a structuring order whose lack
becomes the script of disaster (desastre). To emphasize the lack of closure of
the body, we are repeatedly told that "the water, which he had swallowed,
came out again in such abundance" [l'eau qu'il avoit avalee ressortait en
telle abondance] (1:4, 1:16), indicating the extent to which the materiality
of the body becomes suffused and confused with that of the river.
This consubstantiality of body and landscape, their shared "liquid"
nature, suggests that the materiality of the body is conceived according to a
schema that does not make solid distinctions between matter and form. The
plasticity of water as a medium, its capacity to generate figurative effects
through the movement or "rolling of the wave" [tournoiement de I'onde] is
equated with the plasticity of the body, whose disfigurement (torsion and
irregularity) simply marks another figurative turn in the script. Rather than
presenting the body as an autonomous figure, the baroque text represents it
as a material surface that, like water, is capable of bearing different
reflections, that is, of embodying different figurative effects. In an earlier
passage, the fluidity of the water is also equated with the movement of
thoughts, "sundry thoughts ... which floated like the wave" [divers pensers
... qui flottants com me l'ondeJ (1:3, 1:12). The centrality of water in this
baroque novel thus emerges less as a stylistic conceit than as the expression
of a philosophical and poetic outlook, suggesting a notion of materiality
that encompasses figurative effects. 39 If Plato denounces poetry as a form of
knowledge because he equates it with writing on water, in Astrea it is the
material fluidity of water as a medium that becomes the figure of the poetic
character of representation as it conflates literal and formal effects.
Saturated and rearticulated by the river, Celadon's body appears as a sur-
face upon which the landscape has left its own marks, its own graffiti. His
body is a hieroglyph, inscribed upon and written by nature. In turn,
throughout the novel Celadon busily inscribes the landscape with signs of
his desire, marking upon nature his own graffiti of love. The landscape thus
becomes an extensive hieroglyphic text: it is a surface that purveys the traces
of his love for Astrea, its "characters" (chiffres) (1:198, 1:486). An emblem
in the landscape of this baroque novel, Celadon transforms the entire land-
scape into allegory: it becomes emblematic. Although he can no longer
speak to Astrea, these signs speak for him of his desire. His brother, point-
ing out Celadon's graffiti on a tree, remarks to Astrea: "You recognize only
too well his characters" [Va us reconnaissez trap bien ses caracteres] (1:5,
1:20). These engraved letters are marks that visibly speak Celadon's desire,
in his absence, since they become literal emblems of his character as a
devoted lover.
The correspondence of Celadon and Astrea is an endless series of
exchanges problematizing the representation of love: how can one be sure
that one is loved, faithful, et cetera, and that one's feelings signify properly?
The doubt expressed in this correspondence, which is also a noncorrespon-
dence of sorts, reflects the impossibility of baroque discourse's guaranteeing
itself as a representation, since the absence of the writer opens up the letter
to unintended interpretations. The letters are relays attempting to frame,
but unable to suture, the absence of the other. The problem is that these let-
ters, like the letters of the alphabet, do not belong to anyone in particular.
They circulate, and to that extent they can become the mirror of anyone and
everyone's desire. Thus, the letters do not merely represent the metonymic
character of desire, by supplementing an absence; they also function as the
site of a figurative excess whose hieroglyphic character emerges as the
insignia of desire.
Celadon and Astrea's love correspondence is intercepted by the nymph
Galathea. Upon reading these letters, Galathea's own affection is awakened
and she proceeds to project into the lovers' exchange her own desire. The
act of reading, of performing the desire of others, leads to her appropriation
of the sentiment expressed by the letters. By adding her own letter to the
pack, Galathea adds the image of her own desire to the correspondence,
thereby appropriating it as a vehicle for her own love. The correspondence
between Astrea and Celadon thus becomes the deceptive mirror of three dif-
ferent desires. Celadon's comment upon getting back his bundle of letters-
"Oh secretary of my former, happier life! how did you fall into strange
hands?" [0 secreta ire de rna vie plus heureuse! comment t'es-tu trouve entre
ces mains estrangeres?] (1:65, 1:73)-summarizes the alterity that marks all
correspondence. As the novel playfully suggests, all letters come from the
hands of strangers, including those one has written oneself. Desire in the
novel thus emerges as the literal expression of previous desires, an allegori-

cal circuit into whose conventions it writes itself.
The incident of Silvandre's discovery upon his body of Celadon's letter,
intended for Astrea, clarifies how language may serve as a medium for self-
expression while generating other subjective effects. 40 Upon finding the let-
ter, Silvandre attempts to identify both the addressee and the letter's signer,
but both these identifying marks are missing. Instead, Silvandre finds a
hyperbolic formula for both address and signature: "Unto the fairest, and
most loved shepherdess in the whole Universe" [<'1 la plus belle et plus aimee
bergere de I'univers], signed by "the most unfortunate, yet, the most faith-
ful of your servants" [Ie plus infortune comme Ie plus fidelle de vos servi-
teurs] (1:230, 2:86). These hyperbolic formulas stand in for the proper
name, and appropriate its referential function. Silvandre immediately inter-
prets this exaggerated mode of address as the most proper signature of his
own sentiments. Seduced by the correspondence between his own exalted
sentiments and those expressed by the letter, Silvandre concludes that he
must be the letter's true author:
When he would find therein something resembling what he had once thought
(as when different people quite often come across the same conception when
contemplating the same topic), he would pose the tip of his finger on that
place, and when he would find another, he marked it in the same manner.
But, when he found the conclusion of the letter to be thus subscribed, The
most unfortunate, yet, the most faithful of your servants: Oh! cried he, there
is no doubt that it is me who wrote this letter; and it must be, that my good
Demon, who has care of my life, having read the thoughts of my soul, has
written them in this paper, that I might show them unto Diana. (1:230-31,
2:86)
Both Celadon (author) and Silvandre (presumed author) consider the letter
the truest expression of their sentiments, as well as the signatory mark of
their unique identity as suffering lovers. As a figure of speech that expresses
more than the truth, the hyperbole creates the illusion of a unique referent
through poetic exaggeration. 41 To the extent that it invokes something
unique, the hyperbole may be seen as a substitute for the proper name. But
the referential status of the hyperbole implies an impossible summation, one
in excess of represented truth.
Any individual's effort in Astrea to appropriate language exclusively by
attempting to produce an excess of determination or meaning runs the risk
of complete indeterminacy. This risk is reflected by Silvandre's conviction
that he is the true author of the letter. This shift in identity is made possible
by Silvandre's mistaking the hyperbolic signature for the actual gesture of
communication that is open to anyone. Represented language in Astrea thus

functions as a relay: it has no meaning in and of itself. Its meaning is consti-
tuted through its use, instance, and performance as discourse. Silvandre rec-
ognizes the ambiguity of the letter when he admits that perhaps his double,
a "demon secretary," wrote it: "I found a better secretary than myself" [j'ay
trouve un meilleur secreta ire que je ne suis pas] (1:237, 2:99). Silvandre's
double, or demon secretary, is a metaphor for the baroque concept of
emblematic language, whose auditory and visual echoes purloin the subjec-
tive identity of the speaker. While ostensibly embodying the speaker, these
echoes embody the figurative character of speech. This demon is a fictional
figure, a "double" whose persona is the embodiment of the alien character
of speech. Thus, the hyperbole and the demon thematize the problem of
baroque poetic speech, since the interplay of literal and figurative effects is
recovered in terms of illusion and deception.
Sexuality: The Materiality of Allegory
The representation of gender and eroticism in Astrea, involving elaborate

disguises and feats of transvestism, has continued to fascinate readers for
centuries. What is most striking for the modern reader is the freedom with
which characters shift their gender in order to adopt positions that endan-
ger not only their sexual identity, but also their identity as individuals.
Genette interprets this depiction of eroticism in the novel as the affirmation
of a spiritual ideal that is systematically violated by the actual conduct of the
characters. 42 This distinction between spiritual ideal and physical love,
however, is not sustained by either the plot or the metaphorical structure of
the novel, which consistently conflate and, ultimately, confuse these terms.
While Jacques Ehrmann recognizes eroticism as a generator of illusion, he
nonetheless persists in the belief in an essentialist eroticism based on the
opposition of the sexes. 43 However, as this study of Astrea has shown, the
distinction between the spiritual and the sensible is eroded through allegory.
In an analogous manner, gender distinctions and the identity of the charac-
ters are systematically erased through visual disguise and verbal imperson-
ation. The novel begins with actual transvestism, only to culminate with
metaphysical travesty, since the characters impersonate each other so suc-
cessfully that no one is able to tell them apart. In this novel where everything
is reduced to feint and fiction, neither eroticism nor identity escapes the alle-
gorical play of representation.
The turning point of the novel comes when Celadon decides no longer to
respect to the letter Astrea's injunction not to show himself before her eyes.
The solution that is suggested to him, that of disguising himself as a woman,
is offered to him as the only way to prove that he is still a man. As the druid
priest Adamas explains: "But now that time is expired, you must return
unto your self again, and make it appear that you are not only in love, but
a man as well" [il est temps que vous reveniez en vous mesme, et que vous
luy fassiez poroistre que vous n'estes pas seulement amoureux, mais homme
aussi] (1:329, 2:316-17). Transvestism is presented as the solution to
Celadon's failure to recognize that he is not merely a pining lover, but a
man. Thus transvestism becomes a way of observing the dictum of Astrea's
law, while displacing its meaning as interdiction. Adamas's suggestion that
he pass himself off as his daughter, Alexis, demonstrates his literal interpre-
tation of the law: Astrea has not forbidden Celadon to see her, but merely
to be seen by her. Celadon's inability to understand how he will fail to be
recognized by Astrea is answered by Adamas's interpretation of what it
means to be seen:
Do you think that she can see you, when she does not know you? And how
can she know you, when you are in such a habit? -But replied Celadon, let
me be habited as you will, I shall be still Celadon in reality; so that I shall
thereby truly disobey her.-That you are still Celadon, there is no doubt,
answered Adamas, but still you do not by this disobey her command, for she
has not forbidden you to be Celadon, but only to show her this Celadon.
When she sees you, she will not see you, but Alexis. (1:36],2:398)
Rather than considering Adamas's argument as a fine example of casuistry,
his interpretation provides a significant insight into the mediated character
of vision. 44 Adamas points out that the act of seeing is itself codified: sight
is based on recognition, on contextualizing perception on the basis of prior
knowledge. Celadon's fears about disobeying the dictum of the law are
answered by an even more interesting argument. In having assumed the
external signs of Alexis, Celadon is not challenging Astrea's law, because he
alone and not Alexis has been forbidden to show himself. According to
Adamas, Astrea did not command that he cease "being" Celadon, only that
he stop "showing" her this Celadon.
Thus Celadon's persistence in the belief that "a change of clothes does
not change the man," is answered by Adamas's claim that disguise does not
merely dissimulate, but also creates a new persona. Visual disguise provides
a new frame of reference whose referential status is enhanced in turn by lin-
guistic disguise. Adamas's ability first to establish, and then appropriate, the
slippery distinction between Celadon's "being" and his "showing" demon-
strates his understanding of the plastic character of identity. Adamas's

restaging of Celadon's persona reveals his poetic ability to manipulate visual
and linguistic codes. In other words, in assuming the signs and language of
another, in assuming another position within representation, Celadon can
coexist, as both himself and another, as male and female. However, as the
novel continues, Celadon's "being," his identity as a man, will be eroded by
his "showing," that is, by his appearance as a woman.
While the prevalence of disguise as a theme in baroque novels has been
noted, its significance in Astrea clearly exceeds its ostensible function as
Romanesque convention. 45 In Astrea, disguise is not merely a momentary
subterfuge for the characters or a mechanism for advancing the plot.
Rather, transvestism is presented as a poetic solution to Astrea's visual ban
of Celadon. It is important to recall that Astrea's injunction to Celadon, for-
bidding him ever to show himself before her eyes, may also be construed as
a response to his prior visual transgression of Astrea. Disguised as a woman,
Orithie, and playing the role of Paris, Celadon abuses his position as judge
of a beauty contest by subjecting Astrea to his voyeuristic gaze and by
attempting to extort her consent. Although reduced to a passive object,
Astrea refuses to praise her own beauty in order to persuade her judge. By
refusing to objectify herself as a spectacle for the eyes of the beholder,
Astrea succeeds in maintaining a veil over her nudity. Celadon's efforts to
violate allegory, by reducing vision to voyeurism, are punished by his reduc-
tion to an allegorical object; for Celadon's very existence is predicated upon
the fiction that transvestism engenders. Thus, transvestism emerges as the
visual analogue of linguistic anagrams: it implies a restructuring of the
visual through the manipulation of its frames of reference.
The novel consequently brings Celadon back into the picture as a traves-
tied self, "an other myself" [un autre moi-mesme]. Starting with part 2,
Celadon ceases to exist in the world of the novel, and Alexis, his female per-
sona, takes over. Except for moments of self-reflection, Celadon literally
disappears into the fabric of the text. His presence is erased through a
double transvestism: the masquerade on the level of plot is reinforced by the
supporting structure of the narrative, since both the name and the pronouns
used to designate the protagonist are female. Rather than merely disguising
Celadon, these linguistic markers inscribe in the novel the pervasive pres-
ence of femininity, one whose initial figural character threatens to become
litera1. 46 A new eroticism emerges in the text, one that uses the figurative
conventions of female friendship as a relay for conveying a double sexual
script, homosexual and heterosexual, at the same time:
And while saying these words, she [Alexis-Celadon] was kissing her eyes,
sometimes her mouth, and sometimes her breast. And Astrea, thinking her a
woman, did freely permit it; on the contrary, she was so extremely contented
to be thus caressed by one whose face so much resembled Celadon, that she
never remained indebted to Alexis for kisses received, as she immediately
paid back kisses unto Alexis with double interest. None can express the full-
ness of this disguised druid's joy. (2:28, 3:598-99)
Scenes such as this have continued to fascinate readers because they scram-
ble the frames of reference traditionally associated with eroticism. The rep-
resentation of female friendship receives such avid expression as to suggest
lesbianism, yet this lesbianism is also the bearer of heterosexual echoes.
Astrea's pleasure at being caressed by her dear friend Alexis is doubled by
the fact that Alexis is the living portrait of her dead beloved, Celadon. Thus
two different sexual scenarios, homosexual and heterosexual, coincide
within the script of the same situation. Their coincidence reveals the pro-
found affinity of sexuality with other terms, such as disguise and illusion,
that problematize the status of representation in Astrea. Rather than con-
sidering the eroticism of the novel in Horowitz's terms, as an "essential sex-
uality entirely independent of gender," it is more appropriate to regard gen-
der as the figurative expression of sexualityY Considered in these terms, the
inscription of these two gender positions is merely an index of the figurative
character of eroticism in the novel.
Though thrust from the obscurity of desire into the bedazzlement of its
fulfillment, "dazzled with too much light" [ebloui de trop de darte] (1 :334,
2:330), Celadon's daily life with Astrea continues to frustrate his desires.
The apparent advantage that he has over the situation by being transvested
as Alexis is purloined from him by this very disguise. Although he is able to
see and talk to her all day, as well as share the intimate rituals of dressing
and undressing, this visual and discursive access leaves him unsatisfied. To
behold her properly, he wishes that, like Argus, he could have "a body all
covered with eyes" [tout Ie corps couvert d'yeux] (1:334,2:330). Unable to
totally possess Astrea by visually objectifying her into an image, he desires
to hear Astrea confirm her own affection, as object of his love. But
Celadon's desire cannot be satisfied, since when Astrea sees him, she sees
Alexis, and when she expresses her love, her declarations are made to
Alexis, his transvested self and not Celadon:
Oh God, said she, that Alexis would be happy without Celadon and that
Celadon would be happy without Alexis! Were I really Alexis, and not
Celadon, how happy should I be in Astrea's favors, and how much more
happy would I be, if being Celadon, she did not bestow upon me these favors
as being Alexis! Was there ever a lover more happy and unhappy than I?
(2:30-31,3:604-5)
Despite his erotic fulfillment, Celadon is unable to enjoy his pleasure. This
pleasure divides him by reminding him that its true referent is not himself,
but another: Alexis, his disguised self. If he assumes Astrea's ardent love
declarations literally, then his own identity is in question as a man. Celadon
thus becomes victim of his own feint, insofar as his assumed persona
appears to enjoy pleasures denied to him. Thus the mask attains a "reality"
that objectifies its putative author. Having attempted to disrupt the struc-
ture of allegory by transgressing its limits, Celadon now finds himself
reduced to an object of allegory.
The visual and physical pleasure he derives from being with Astrea only
confirms his lack of self-possession. Celadon's identity is fractured by plea-
sure and purloined from him, thereby reducing his body to an "enigma
about the object of its pleasure."48 Rather than designating Celadon, the
experience of pleasure only reaffirms his allegorical status as an object frag-
mented by love. 49 Although Celadon attempts to sort out whether Astrea's
love really applies to Alexis, the name or the person, his efforts meet with
failure. While Astrea assures him that she loves not the name, but the per-
son-"what it is that I unchangingly love is your person, your spirit, and
your merit" [ce que j'ayme sans changement c'est vostre personne, c'est
vostre esprit, et vostre merite] (2:179, 4:263)-her response further perpet-
uates his confusion. The inability to determine whether he is loved as a man
or as a woman leads Celadon to question his identity. Meditating upon his
condition, Celadon recognizes his dependence on his fictive persona, leading
him to conclude that he is a hybrid: "1 am then both Alexis and Celadon
mingled together" [Je suis done et Celadon et Alexis meslez ensemble]
(2:174, 4:252). This conclusion highlights the extent to which disguise in
the novel leads to the actual transformation of the characters, since by
assuming other personae, they come to embody different gender positions at
the same time. Scripted upon Celadon's body, these gender roles restage his
identity as a composite entity, one whose hybrid essence cannot extricate
itself from allegory.
Sexuality in Astrea thus emerges as the referent not of some intrinsic
essence or reality, but rather as the referent of representation, of one's posi-
tion within it. If transvestism plays such a crucial role in this novel, this is
because it reveals that gender is constructed as the composite of a descrip-
tive image and its frames of reference. As a form of impersonation, trans-
vestism involves the appropriation of someone's image and its fictitious cir-
culation by another name and set of expectations. Transvestism thus

emerges as yet another mirror through which the novel reflects its emblem-
atic legacy, since it illuminates how the lover's image may become the bearer
of two different names: Alexis and Celadon. The problem is not that the
image is marked by difference in some intrinsic fashion, but rather that this
image can be framed by different contexts and thus be endowed with differ-
ent sexual traits. The freedom of this baroque text regarding the question of
sexual identity is not an ideological freedom. It is a freedom embedded in
the novel's emblematic character, in the fact that representation is acknowl-
edged as a convention, the allegorical character of which is always open to
further interpretations.
Disguise in Astrea does not stop, however, with the reversal of gender,
nor with the usurpation of the concept of identity. Rather, the notion of
transvestism is pursued ad absurdum, until it becomes the vehicle for an
erotic solution otherwise unattainable in the text. Not content to resign
himself to be disguised as Alexis, Celadon stumbles accidentally upon the
possibility of disguising him/herself in Astrea's clothes:
Love, who offers his followers extreme pleasures, ... represented to this
feigned Alexis such great delight to be in the gown, which covered the body
of her beautiful shepherdess, that failing to undress her quick enough, she
began kissing her and pressing her tenderly against her own bosom .... Car-
ried away with affection, Alexis then took the rest of Astrea's clothes, kissed
them, put them on and adjusted them, so that no one would fail to have
taken her for a shepherdess. (2:27,3:593)50
For the modern reader, this scene may be interpreted as a classic instance of
fetishism, since it reflects the lover's pleasure in a token or substitute object
for the beloved. 51 However, such a reading obscures the fact that clothing in
Astrea does not function as a mere object, as costume.)2 Rather, clothing
defines in crucial ways the identity of the protagonists, since like language it
may disguise as well as generate illusion. 53 Celadon's pleasure in being
dressed in Astrea's clothes is the literal expression of the erotic proximity
that he sought all along, with the exception that his metaphorical fusion
with Astrea implies his being further split up or divided from himself. The
pleasure of impersonating Astrea to the point of "becoming" her involves
his own fragmentation into the three personae of Celadon/Alexis/Astrea.
Each of these personae embodies competing desires that redefine the scope
of sexuality, as well as its perception, by the reader. 54
Not content to settle for this new disguise, Alexis and Astrea proceed to
exchange their clothes and thus exchange their identities. Henceforth, they
reverse not only their roles as lovers, but also their roles as individuals, since
they decide to banish any action that may establish a difference between
them. Initiated by Alexis, this pact formalizes transvestism as a legitimate
expression of love in the novel: "I do ordain therefore that Astrea shall be
Alexis, and Alexis shall be Astrea, and that we banish from amongst us, not
only all words, but also all manner of actions that may put any difference
between us" (2:86, 4:44; emphasis added). Alexis's command literally
enacts the spiritual union espoused by Neopiatonism, by presenting the
transformation of the lover into the beloved. But this Neoplatonic ideal is
transcribed literally, since the mutual exchange of the lovers' names mimics
their exchange of identities through transvestism. Their mutual loss of selves
in each other, accompanied by the loss of their proper names, can only be
sustained through an impossible fiction, that of abolishing all differences.
Hence, the spiritual ideology that Neoplatonism espoused through the
figurative union of lovers becomes in this passage a travesty of identity.
Neoplatonism is undermined by its literal embodiment, since its figurative
ideal, that of spiritual union, relies on the actual negation of representation
and its material reality.
Consequently, Astrea presents us with what initially appears to be a con-
tradictory representation of sexuality. On the one hand, the novel seems to
reject the notion of sexual difference as a foundational term, as a given
physical and social reality. On the other hand, this work also rejects a spir-
itual ideal that could be seen as an attempt to overcome the notion of dif-
ference. How then is the notion of sexual difference to be thought? The
answer to this question lies in the way Astrea problematizes representation.
As this study has shown, the prevalence of disguise ranging from trans-
vestism to a travesty of the notion of identity demonstrates the power of
representation not only to dissimulate, but also to create new situations and
identities. The freedom that Adamas and later Celadon display in manipu-
lating representation attests to their understanding of its allegorical charac-
ter: the fact that neither vision nor language can function as exclusive pur-
veyors of meaning. In a scene where Alexis and Astrea exchange their
dresses, their discussion about the way they should be retailored in order to
fit properly reveals the plastic nature of the representation of sexual differ-
ence in the novel. Alexis explains: "We shall do to mine the opposite of
what I must do to yours, were I to wear it today, for, said she rising to her
feet, you can well see that yours is too short for me, but as soon as I untuck
these puffs and pleats, it will be to my measure; likewise one must put a tuck
in my hem for it to suit your height" (2:28, 3:597, emphasis added). The
small adjustments to be made in the fabric of these two dresses resituate the
notion of sexual difference as a figure generated by the untucking and tuck-
ing of material folds. 55 The dress emerges as material surface that can be
manipulated to engender different figurative effects. The novel thus suggests
an alternative model for representing sexual difference, one in which it is
conceived as a figurative construct, rather than as a predetermined entity or
essential reality. In a novel where everything partakes in illusion, gender is
no morc real than the reality of fiction. Like the text, or the river into whose
folds the characters appear and disappear, sexual difference emerges as an
emblematic mark, inscribed as script but figuratively fluid. If sexual differ-
ence is otherwise marked in the text, this is because it does not belong to a
fixed symbolic order that would reinforce duality, but to an allegorical
order whose figurative freedom marks the rhetorical nature of representa-
tion. Sexuality thus emerges as a stance within representation, an allegorical
fold produced by the emblematic structure of the text.
The legacy of emblematic traditions in Astrea is perceptible in the fact
that representation is deliberately structured to highlight the allegorical
interplay of word and image, of literal and figurative elements. Despite its
ostensible obsession with visual illusion and voyeurism, images in Astrea
(what is seen and how it is seen) are mediated by the discursive frames of
reference (what is said or written). For this reason, baroque representation
cannot be reduced to a stable frame of reference, thereby liberating the char-
acters and their setting to continued transformations that prevent them
from attaining a fixed or defining semblance. Instead of delimiting and pre-
scribing the protagonists and the settings through an essentializing frame,
baroque representation retains its openness by presenting things in their
relations, rather than the thing itself. As the expression of form in function,
it presents a particular manner for apprehending and representing the
world. Whether representing the body, setting, speech, or gender, the fluid-
ity and the freedom that define Astrea reflect this emblematic legacy to
baroque aesthetics, a mediated apprehension of the world, not as image, but
as changing semblance.
Part 2
Cartesian Bodies, Virtual Bodies
Chapter 3
The Automaton as Virtual Model: Anatomy,
Technology, and the Inhuman
Although less than fifty years separate the publication of Michel de Mon-
taigne's Essays (1588) from Rene Descartes's Discourse on Method (1637;
published anonymously), the representation of the body in these works is
radically different. l Considered from a historical perspective this span of
time appears relatively short, yet it marks one of the most significant turn-
ing points in the conception of the body in the European tradition. For with
Descartes we witness surprising new ways for conceiving the body as an
anatomical, technological, and philosophical entity. These include the
anatomical redefinition of the body in terms of the circulation of blood, its
technological resynthesis as a machine, and its philosophical reduction to a
material thing. Descartes's elaboration of the duality of the mind and body
will relegate the body to an autonomous entity, the objective and mechani-
cal character of which will mark a fundamental departure from previous
traditions. As my analysis of Montaigne demonstrated in part 1, the
baroque body is conceived neither as an autonomous object nor as a mere
instrument. Fully embedded in the fabric of the world, the body functions as
the horizon of subjective being and becoming. Contrary to Montaigne,
Descartes advances a conception of the body that not only decontextualizes
it from its worldly fabric, but, more significantly, replaces it with various
mechanical and virtual analogues. In examining the question of the body in
Descartes, we must ask ourselves whether we are still talking about the
body, as we ordinarily understand it, or about something so altogether dif-
ferent and new as to render obsolete all our previous conceptions. The expe-
riential, lived body in Montaigne's works is replaced in Descartes's works
by an artificial, virtual entity that only summarily mimics certain attributes
linked to the body. It is precisely this rupture and radical redefinition of the
body by Descartes, so radical as to no longer resemble the experiential body,
that will constitute the focus of our discussion. 2
In order to elucidate more precisely the differences in Montaigne's and
Descartes's accounts of the body, a brief summary is necessary. The latter

part of the sixteenth century and the early part of the seventeenth century
were dominated by a humoral conception of the body, one that does not
privilege any of its component fluids. The body's physiological complexion
is governed by the interplay and balance of the four humors: blood, phlegm,
choler (yellow bile), and melancholy (black bile). Dating back to Galen
(Claudius Galenus, A.D. 130-200?), this humoral conception presents an
understanding of the body that is flexible and transitive based on the specific
combinations and particular mixture of these four fluids." The dominance
of any particular humor creates an imbalance that shifts the individual's
complexion from health to disease. In Montaigne's Essays, this humoral
conception of the body inflects its embodied character and reflects its ana-
logical relations to nature, as the juncture of the microcosm and the macro-
cosm. If the body is defined transitively, that is because its definition shifts
in regard to its position and demeanor in the world. Like rivers or seas
whose borders fluctuate and shift, the body is neither bounded nor defined
as a fixed, self-enclosed entity. Montaigne's fluid interpretation of the body
reflects an understanding of its shifting complexion, the result of the inter-
play of natural and cultural forces. Perceived in the mode of signature and
citation, the body is the site of multiple reinscriptions, marking the imprints
of both nature and culture and thus reaffirming its vital connections to the
world. 4 Rather than being a mere object of observation, the body disposes
of forms of agency; it has the capacity to inform and transform the knowl-
edge that the self seeks to attain. The body in Montaigne is not merely the
physical body, based on experience, but also the imagined one, constructed
by personal desire and mediated by social and cultural institutions.
In contrast to Montaigne's scriptorial body, whose fluid complexion is
defined by the interplay of humors, as well as of the personal, social, and
cultural imaginary, Descartes presents a radically new interpretation. The
Cartesian body is no longer defined by experience, custom, or habit. Reason
is its sole guide and defining principle. The role of perception, imagination,
and memory will be devalued by their association with the body and notions
of embodiment. Their capacity to inform and shape the mind will be in
question. I will argue that Descartes's affirmation of the separation of the
mind from the body reflects not merely a metaphysical position, but a tech-
nological one as well, since it implies the objectification and instrumental-
ization of the body through its reduction to a mechanical device-a
machine. Descartes's definition of the body is based on two newly emergent
systems of reference: Harvey's anatomical discovery of the circulation of
blood, and mechanical analogies that rely on the mathematization of
The Automaton as Virtual Model • 69
nature. As this study shows, Descartes's appropriation of Harvey's model

for the circulation of blood results in the disembodiment of the body as flesh
and its reconstitution as a mechanical analogue. The mechanical organiza-
tion of the organism supplants its organicity, so that the logic of the
automaton as a simulacrum displaces the priority of the lived, experiential
body. Descartes's prioritization of rational consciousness based on episte-
mological principles, as alluded to in the Discourse and elaborated exhaus-
tively in the Meditations, leads to the errancy and subsequent loss of the
body as a site for knowledge. In this and the next two chapters, I demon-
strate that it is precisely this convergence of the anatomical, technological,
and metaphysical models that generates a new understanding of the body as
a virtual entity, an entity whose spectral legacy will continue to haunt the
destiny of modernity.
From the Circulation of Blood to Bloodless Machines
The soul of all flesh is in the blood.

-Leviticus 17:14
Descartes's account of the circulation of blood in The Discourse on Method,

part 5, is significant not merely because it purports to give a description of
the body based on anatomical principles. Rather, the effort to valorize
blood, as opposed to other bodily humors, involves a fundamental shift in
the conception of the body. To privilege blood as the defining paradigm of
the body is to effect a shift away from its former symbolic centrality in a
society founded on the link between sanguinity and nomination, such as we
find in kinship structures and paternity, toward a new symbolic order that
valorizes blood not only as a figure of hereditary transmission, but also as a
system that defines the self-enclosure of the body.5 Descartes's selective
appropriation of Harvey's model for the circulation of blood will lead to the
redefinition of the intelligible essence of the body in terms of its material and
mechanical functions. 6 Harvey's discovery reflects the emergence of a new
concept of medicine, one that no longer relies on the "supposed isomor-
phism between the cosmic order and the equilibrium of the organism"
reflected in nature's presumed powers to correct its own disorders? In con-
trast to this therapeutics of watchfulness and self-regulation, Harvey's and
Descartes's interventions exemplify the emergence of a modern medicine
that is activist in orientation, since it relies on an operational approach to
the body understood as an autonomous entity.
As opposed to earlier concepts of blood, which did not involve the notion
of circulation, in De motu cordis et sanguinis (1628) Harvey describes the
circulation of blood as a closed circle, thereby preserving blood against con-
sumption. This self-enclosure of blood within the pathways of the arterial-
venal system establishes it as an autonomous system of exchange within the
body. The continuous and circular movement of blood insures both
the preservation and regeneration of the body. 8 Moreover, as a microcosm
the circulation of blood reflects the movements of the macrocosm, that of
the circular motion of celestial bodies. This analogy of circular motion
inscribes the circulation of blood within the framework of the Renaissance
and baroque worldviews that sought to establish analogical relations
between the microcosm and the macrocosm. 9 Within Harvey's system, the
heart emerges as the true sovereign of the body, the guiding principle of life
whose movements are perceptible throughout the body in the tangible form
of the pulse. 10 Although Harvey compares the heart, in passing, to various
mechanical devices (a pump, fire engine, or hydraulic device), these mechan-
ical analogies still reflect an Aristotelian vitalist view regarding the central-
ity of the heart, rather than a mechanical worldview. 11 It is interesting to
note that despite his mechanist tendencies, Descartes does not appropriate
Harvey's interpretation of the heart as a pump. He explains the motion of
blood as a result of the generation of heat in the heart, a position that he
believes to be different from Aristotle's prior formulation. 12
What may have interested Descartes in Harvey's anatomical model of the
circulation of blood is precisely its autonomous character, a closed and self-
regulating system of exchange, which redefines the physical closure of the
body as material fact. The circulation of blood defines the body as a self-
enclosed system whose network character provides the pathways for its
mechanical functions. The circulation of blood provides a map for the body;
it enables its schematic and figurative representation as a virtual ground-
plan that autonomizes the logic of the body, dislocating, separating, and iso-
lating it from the external world as its frame of reference. The capacity of
the body to mirror and reflect analogically the macrocosm still present in
Harvey's account is disrupted, since Descartes's objectification of the body
reduces its capacity to sustain and generate meaning. The body is no longer
a mirror of the larger cosmos; it is a mere object whose mechanical logic and
material definition reflects his philosophical understanding of nature as
inanimate, defined purely as matter, extension, and motion. 13
The autonomy, centrality, and circuitous nature of the arterial-venal
system enables Descartes to provide a physical analogue to the philosoph-
ical reflections regarding the centrality and autonomy of the cogito in part
4 of the Discourse. Here, Descartes describes the discovery of the cogito as

a hypostatic moment based on a fiction of total negation: "And then,
examining attentively that which I was, I saw that I could conceive that I
had no body, and there was no world nor place where I might be; but yet
I could not for all that conceive that I was not."14 The validity of the cog-
ito is founded on its radical denial of all bodily and material qualities, on
their elimination in order to affirm the identity of thought with a new form
of existence. The artificial veracity of the cogito supplants, in the realm of
existence, the material reality of the body and its place in the world. By
defining the cogito purely "as a substance the whole essence or nature of
which is to think," and independent of "any place" or "material thing," as
well as "entirely distinct from body" (HR, 1:101), Descartes removes it
from the realm of worldly existence. 15 Thus when the body is brought
back to be rejoined to the cogito, its own reality no longer references the
same order of existence as the cogito. The body, as described in the Dis-
course, part 5, returns not as an organic entity but as a dissected corpse,
whose mechanical logic is associated with the artifice of automata (HR,
1: 116). The anatomical description of the body in terms of the circulation
of blood thus provides a blueprint, an understanding of the body as an
apparatus, the intelligibility of which will be governed by material and
mechanicallaws. 16
The Automaton as a Spectral Model
Every metaphysics of man as the protagonist in the natural

theatre of creation is embodied in the automaton.
-Jean Baudrillard
The analogy of the human body to mechanical devices was not new to the
seventeenth century, but dated back to the late Middle Ages. In his treatise
on surgery (1306-20), Henri de Mondeville compares surgery to the
mechanical arts, specifically to architecture. 1? More importantly, he goes on
to define the body as the "instrument of the soul" and dismembers this
instrument, its constituent parts analogous to various mechanical devices
involved in artisanal production: the lungs are compared to the bellows of a
blacksmith, the elbow to a pulley, et cetera. 18 However, Mondeville's
instrumentalization of various body parts preserves the overall organic
character of the body, to the extent that these specific parts function by
analogy to a generalized understanding of artisanal modes of production,
including metaphors that cover the diverse utensils, materials, and products
entailed. Moreover, this anatomical description of the body as an organism

involves notions of cohesion and social solidarity among the component
parts, so that the anatomical body mirrors in its composition the hierarchi-
cal structure and bonds of obligation and debt that define the social body.19
This homology between the human body and its social organization pre-
serves its organic character, since the component parts are connected and
tied together under the aegis of the social contract.
Other sources for Descartes's analogy of the organism and the machine
date back to Thomas Aquinas's passing metaphorical comparison of ani-
mals and clocks, as well as to Gomez-Pereira's claim that animals are
machines, lacking any sensitive sou1. 20 Sources may even include literary ref-
erences. 21 Descartes's analogy of the human organism to a machine departs
from these earlier formulations, in that the Cartesian machine acquires a
new network of meanings. It designates an instrument for the transforma-
tion of natural forces or an ordered arrangement of parts that can function
autonomously. It can also signify a combination of machines of varying
degrees of complexity. In Descartes's time the word machine also has an
additional meaning, that of a ploy, ruse, or a machination. This latter mean-
ing is implicit in Descartes's use of the machine as an heuristic device, inso-
far as it functions as the insignia of human ingenuity, of its capacity to
manipulate nature and deploy artifice.22 The machine in Descartes's works
is not merely a technical and mechanical analogue of nature; rather, its mar-
velous, quasi-artistic character attests to the erosion of the distinctions
between nature and art. It represents an usurpation of the Aristotelian inter-
pretation of the organon, which designates a functional part of the animal,
toward a wider notion of functionality by erasing any distinction between
organization and fabrication. 23 The Cartesian machine results from the dis-
memberment of the natural body and its resynthesis, manipulation, and
control according to the dictates of a rational model.
In his Treatise on Man (written during 1629-33 alongside the Discourse
and the World and published posthumously in 1662), Descartes does not
speak directly of man. Rather, when speaking of men he refers to "fictional
men," hypothetical.analogues intended to cast light on "real men" in the
same way that the axiomatic "new world" in the World is invoked to illu-
minate the nature of the "real world.,,24 This ghosting and doubling of the
human, by positing the priority of a fictional hypothesis in order to elucidate
the real, emerges as a strategy of virtualization that enables Descartes to
speak of the body not as a lived entity, but as a disembodied technical and
mechanical thing. What are initially presented as mere tools for conceptual-
ization, the "fictional men" of the Treatise, or the "new world" of the
World, become the theoretical prototypes that will dictate what can be
known about "real men" or the "real world." Commenting on the Treatise,
Canguilhem underlines the deception that Descartes's theory effectuates,
since the analogy of the organism with the machine ignores the concrete
existence of the lived body in order to substitute for it a rational recon-
struction:
The theory of the animal-machine would, therefore, have the same relation
to life that a set of axioms has to geometry, that is, nothing more than a ratio-
nal reconstruction. Thus the theory operates by deception: it pretends to
ignore the concrete existence of what it must represent, and it denies that
what it actually produces comes only after it has been rationally legit-
imized. 25
But this rational reconstruction of the organism as a machine is itself a con-

struction based on mathematical, geometrical principles. Its legitimacy is
derived not from the body that it putatively represents, but from the general
mathematization of nature. Its priority relies on the preeminence of episte-
mology, which, as a theory of knowledge, must precede all other under-
standing of the world. 26
Having inaugurated his Treatise with the claim that these (fictional) men
are composed like us of a soul and a body, Descartes in effect separates the
two by considering the body alone. Although he briefly mentions the union
of the body and the soul, this topic will be left largely untreated, for the
Treatise focuses on the workings of the body alone, considered not as a real
entity, but as hypothetical, virtual construct:
I suppose the body to be nothing but a statue or machine made of earth,
which God forms with the explicit intention of making it as much as possible
like us. Thus God not only gives it externally the colors and shapes of all the
parts of our bodies, but also places inside it all the parts required to make it
walk, eat, breathe, and indeed imitate all those of our functions which can be
imagined to proceed from matter and to depend solely on the disposition of
our organs.
We see clocks, artificial fountains, mills and such other machines which,
although man-made, have the power to move of their own accord in many
different ways. But I am supposing this machine to be made by the hand of
God, and so I think you may think it capable of a greater variety of move-
ments than I could possibly imagine in it, and of exhibiting more artistry than
I could possibly ascribe to it. (PWD, 1:99)
Briefly alluding to the biblical creation of the body as a statue made of earth
(Gen. 2:7), Descartes rewrites this mythic origin by suggesting that this body
is also a machine deliberately made to resemble the human. His description
of the human body as a statue and then as a machine undermines its bibli-
cal status as a vessel that is animated by the breath of God. Endowed with
the external semblance of the human body, this artificial replica mechani-
cally imitates human functions, such as walking, eating, and breathing. The
fact that Descartes includes breathing among these mechanical functions
alerts us to the secularization of the body, insofar as it is removed from the
sacred purview of the pneuma (breath, or soul).27 This secularization,
implicit in the removal of the body from the realm of the creation, is accom-
panied by its dehumanization. By describing human functions in purely
mechanical terms, as proceeding from matter and depending solely on the
disposition of the organs, Descartes dehumanizes them to the extent that
they cease to refer to the organic reality of the lived body. These mechanical
analogues simulate elements involved in the organization of the lived body
only to sublate them technologically. This conflation of the material and
mechanical aspects of the organization of the body with its overall definition
as an organism will lead to the reassignment of the human to the mind,
instead of the body.
Descartes's subsequent mention of man-made machines, such as clocks,
artificial fountains, and mills that have the power to move of their own
accord, serves to underline human technical ingenuity. This allusion to the
power of machines as artisanal products in turn is a testament to God's
superior productive capacity to fabricate the human body as an infinitely
complex mechanical device. According to Descartes's account, God the cre-
ator becomes God the fabricator, the consummate artisan who disposes of
infinite resources and artistry. The gesture of divine creation that constitutes
the realm of the natural world is now redefined as a form of fabrication that
indelibly conflates technique and art. The natural world is thus sublated by
the artificial logic of the artifact, just as the body is replaced by its mechan-
ical specter-the automaton. As Canguilhem points out: "The intention
behind the construction of an automaton was to copy nature, but in the
Cartesian theory of life the automaton serves as an intelligible equivalent of
nature. There is no room in Cartesian physics for an ontological difference
between nature and art." 28 The Cartesian automaton does not copy nature,
but seeks to gain ascendancy over it by becoming its intelligible equivalent.
In so doing, it conflates organization with fabrication and erases the dis-
tinctions between nature and art. This can be seen in Descartes's claim in
Principles of Philosophy that "it is not less natural for a clock, made of the
requisite number of wheels, to indicate the hours, than for a tree which has
sprung from this or that seed, to produce a particular fruit" (HR, 1:300).
But Descartes is not content merely to secularize divine creation by
equating it with human technical and artistic ingenuity. Nor is he satisfied

with eroding the distinctions between nature and art. He goes a step further
by suggesting that nature itself, in making animals, has created automatons
superior to artificial ones: "Since art copies nature, and people can make
various automatons which move without thought, it seems reasonable that
nature should even produce its own automatons, which are much more
splendid than the artificial ones-namely, the animals" (letter to More, Feb-
ruary 5, 1649, PWD, 3:366). While Descartes appears to recognize the
superior powers of nature, insofar as it produces animals, he considers them
to be nothing more than automata that are more accomplished than man-
made, artificial ones. In the process, nature as source of creation for animate
life is replaced with an interpretation of nature as consummate artisan,
whose superior technical achievements represent merely a higher degree of
virtuosity measured in terms of a human scale. Descartes's analogy thus sug-
gests that just as art copies nature, so does nature produce artistic artifacts.
Considered from this perspective, when art copies nature, it only reproduces
processes of production attributed to nature itself. This instrumentalization
of nature as technical producer of automata-animals removes from its
purview the evidence of its animate character, divesting it of life and vital
action. 29
When Descartes mentions machines to explain how the organism works,
he relies on the technical devices of his time: clocks, artificial fountains,
water mills, et cetera. But in the Treatise, Descartes frames his mechanical
analogies for the human organism by presenting them in an elaborate gar-
den setting. 30 Here, grottoes and fountains, constitutive elements of land-
scape architecture, function as marvelous embodiments of the human body
represented as a mechanical system:
Similarly you may have observed in the grottoes and fountains of the royal
gardens that the mere force with which the water is driven as it emerges from
its source is sufficient to move various machines, and even to make them play
various instruments or utter certain words depending on the various arrange-
ments of the pipes through which the water is conducted.
Indeed, one may compare the nerves of the machine I am describing with
the pipes in the works of these fountains, its muscles and tendons with the
various devices and springs which serve to set them into motion, its animal
spirits with the water that drives them, the heart with the source of water,
and the cavities of the brain with the storage tanks. Moreover, breathing and
other such activities which are normal and natural to this machine, and
which depend on the flow of the spirits, are like the movements of a clock or
mill, which the normal flow of water can render continuous. (PWD,
1:100-101)
If God created man in the Garden of Eden, Descartes re-creates the body
using the marvelous artifices of the gardens of his time as a paradigm for the
human body.3l Instead of simply describing the body in mechanical terms,
he now stages its workings as the unfolding scenography of a garden land-
scape. The mechanical complexity that underlines Descartes's description of
the human body is represented as a veritable feat of landscape architecture
and engineering, a complex system that weaves in its conceptual fabric var-
ious kinds of machines, the structural and hydraulic principles of which
ensure continuous motion. The human body is represented as a composite
of various technical devices, parts of it operating like springs and others
operating like channels and storage tanks, that is, conduits for the flow,
pressure, and circulation of blood and the animal spirits.
What is notable in Descartes's discussion is the fact that the system for
the circulation of blood also doubles as the carrier of animal spirits. The ani-
mal spirits represent the most rarefied and subtle parts of the blood that are
separated through a process of mechanical filtration (based on the smallness
of pores) into the pineal gland situated in the brain cavity (PWD, 1:100).32
These minute corpuscles "cease to have the form of blood," since they attain
an almost immaterial status. Their subtlety or fineness is such that they take
on the character of a "very fine wind" or rather a "very lively and pure
flame" (PWD, 1:100). Descartes also makes an analogy between the nerves
and the system of pipes underlying a garden. He models the nervous system
on the arterial-venal system, suggesting that neural circulation follows a
hydraulic model involving tiny doors or valves placed in nerves (PWD,
1:107). The nerves are animated by the passage of animal spirits that have
the power to change the shape of muscles (PWD, 1:100). Descartes thus
mechanizes the nervous system by automating its functions, in order to
explain its physiological processes in terms of the activity of the animal spir-
its. What is ingenious about the Cartesian model for the human body is that
its hydraulic circuitry simultaneously accounts both for the circulatory and
the nervous system, at the same time that it serves as a conduit for the ani-
mal spirits, intangible substances that visibly animate the body.
Descartes pursues his analogy of the human body with the gardens of his
time, comparing external objects and their capacity to stimulate sense
organs with garden visitors who unwittingly trigger mechanisms that set an
elaborate spectacle in motion:
External objects, which by their mere presence stimulate its [the body's] sense
organs and thereby cause them to move in many different ways depending on
how the parts of its brain are disposed, are like visitors who enter the grottos
of these fountains and unwittingly cause the movements which take place
before their eyes. For they cannot enter without stepping on certain tiles
which are so arranged that if, for example they approach a Diana who is
bathing they will cause her to hide in the reeds, and if they move forward to
pursue her they will cause a Neptune to advance and threaten them with his
trident; or if they go in another direction they will cause a sea-monster to
emerge and spew water onto their faces; or other such things according to the
engineers who made the fountains. (PWD, 1:101)
Instead of presenting sense perception in technical terms, Descartes restages

it as an elaborate spectacle whose theatrical character is intended to illus-
trate its mechanical underpinnings. The artifice of the hydraulic machine
functions here as an analogue for the human, displacing the priority through
the display of the illusionistic artifice that mimics it. The choreographed
movements of these devices triggered by the movements of the spectators
suggest not only their autonomous existence, but also the illusion of per-
sonality and even psychology, insofar as these figures appear to respond and
interact. The seemingly autonomous movements of these machines create
the illusion of agency, they mechanically ghost the human, since they appear
to be moving as if by their own accord.
Descartes's representation of the workings of the human body by means
of this scenographic garden display recalls the presentation of the anatomi-
cal body made available through the spectacle of display afforded through
dissection. 33 In both these cases, the human body itself is rendered invisible
insofar as it makes itself available as a display of complex mechanisms com-
posed of specific mechanical parts and devices. 34 For Jean-Claude Beaune
the Cartesian automaton is a theoretical instrument, a virtual model that
elides through its mechanical displays its intervention as a heuristic device:
"Most of all, the automaton is a spectral model, a sort of theoretical micro-
scope enabling a 'sighting of depth': the anatomy and the internal move-
ments are seen across the corporeal envelope, supposedly negligible, as one
would see the wheels of a machine.,,35 The opacity of the body as a corpo-
real entity is rendered transparent by the automaton, its spectral and
mechanical analogue. Considered from this perspective, the body is no
longer the means for the world's disclosure, for its autonomization as a
machine supplants its corporeal character by substituting for it an organiza-
tional, mechanized logic.
In the conclusion to his Treatise on Man, Descartes returns to his earlier
elaboration regarding the relation of bodily parts to their requisite functions
by reiterating his materialist and mechanist position: "these functions fol-
low from the mere arrangement of the machine's organs every bit as natu-
rally as the movements of a clock or other automaton follow from the
arrangements of its counter-weights and wheels" (FWD, 1:108}.36 These

functions proceed solely from matter and the disposition of the organs,
understood as the wheels and cogs of a machine. The capacity for move-
ment, which generates the illusion of agency, is based solely on the internal
arrangement and disposition of bodily parts and does not require an exter-
nal principle of animation. As Descartes subsequently explains, these
organic functions permit the machine to be conceived without recourse to a
"vegetative or sensitive soul or other principle of movement and life, apart
from its blood and animal spirits" (FWD, 1:108}Y Descartes here rejects
the medieval conceptions of the soul as vegetative and sensitive entities that
animate the body, in order to emphasize the purely material and mechanical
nature of the body. According to Stephen Gaukroger, Descartes's aim was
to show that certain psychophysiological functions that had already been
recognized as corporeal could be accounted for in a manner that did not
render matter sentient. 38
Ferdinand Alquie observes that Descartes's rejection of these medieval
conceptions of the soul prepares the mechanized body for the reception of
the soul, understood as a unique entity whose sole function will be that of
being rational and intellectual. 39 Descartes's identification of the soul with
reason alone goes against the Renaissance vitalistic or animistic interpreta-
tion of nature, where the soul permeates the universe and is identified with
life. 40 Earlier in the Treatise Descartes notes that "when a rational soul is
present in this machine it will have as its principal seat the brain, and reside
there like the fountain-keeper" (FWD, 1:101). The rational soul resides in
the mechanized body as the ghost in the machine, the centralized fountain-
keeper, sale agent and administrator of the mechanized functions of the
body. The immaterial presence of the rational soul that haunts the auto-
mated body controls its bodily and material manifestations. As Descartes
later explains to Regius (letter of May 1641), "There is only one soul in
human beings, the rational soul; for no actions can be reckoned human
unless they depend on reason" (FWD, 3:182}.41 The rational soul becomes
the only point of reference for the human, for all forms of agency achieve
their humanity through their dependence on reason alone. Thus the locus of
the human becomes the mind alone, defined as consciousness, intellection,
and volition. The removal of agency from all aspects of the body and its
equation with a machines will bring it within the purview of animality,
understood no longer as a natural phenomenon but as the ultimate embod-
iment of artifice and mechanics. Descartes considers animals to be like
clocks, that is, machines governed by the disposition of their organs and not
by reason (HR, 1:117}.42 Thus the reification and secularization of the
human soul to a purely rational entity, accompanied by the total mecha-

nization of the corporeal body, runs the risk of a materialist reduction, of
the evacuation of all spiritual elements, since they may be perceived purely
as effects engendered through material causes. Although Descartes denies
that his rejection of the sensitive and vegetative soul will open the way for
atheists to deny the presence of even a rational soul in the human body, the
rise of French materialism in the eighteenth century, as attested by the writ-
ings of Julien Offray de La Mettrie and the marquis de Sade, will prove oth-
erwise. 43
In part 5 of the Discourse 011 Method, Descartes proceeds to recapitulate
the mechanical analogies elaborated in his Treatise on Man by reaffirming
the equation of the body to automata and moving machines. He also reiter-
ates his earlier contention, elaborated in the Treatise, regarding the analogy
of the body to a machine, as product of human industry and invention, only
to reaffirm the superiority of the human body as a product of divine indus-
try (HR, 1:115-16). The perfectibility of the human body as a machine
brings Descartes back to the question of how to distinguish the human from
its mechanical analogues. If there exist such machines, capable of both
resembling our body and simulating its actions, then a fundamental ques-
tion arises regarding how to distinguish the human from its inhuman,
mechanical doubles:
On the other hand, if there were machines which bore a resemblance to our
body and imitated our actions as far as it was morally possible to do so, we
should always have two very certain tests by which to recognize that, for all
that, they were not real men. The first is, that they could never use speech or
other signs as we do when placing our thoughts on record for the benefit of
others .... And the second difference is, that although machines can perform
certain things as well or perhaps better than any of us can do, they infallibly
fall short in others, by the which means we may discover that they did not act
from knowledge, but only from the disposition of their organs. (HR, 1:116)
In this passage, the machine-body analogy reveals its troubling implications,

insofar as the possibility of mechanically simulating the human body raises
the specter of an inhuman double that could come to haunt it. The body's
dispossession of its human qualities by the machine implies that the human
must be forcefully relocated and redefined as an attribute of the immaterial
mind-the "ghost" in the machine. 44
Descartes's appeal to speech or signs as the distinguishing mark of the
human relies on his valorization of reason. However, the reason in question
here is no longer the disembodied thought of the cogito, defined by its self-
identity and transparency, but rather of an embodied reason that makes
itself visible and perceptible precisely because of its communicative, repre-

sentational, and intersubjective character. As Jean-Pierre Seris points out:
"The loquela, the speech, performance and usage proper to human language
is the unique and certain indicator of the presence of a soul that thinks in the
bodies of others. "45 Seris's emphasis on language as the defining character-
istic of the human is based on Descartes's explicit references to language in
the Discourse and in his correspondence. 46 However, Descartes's appeal to
speech and signs suggests a more general appeal to the subject's capacity for
representation understood as the manipulation and recording of signs, be
they verbal or nonverbal. As Descartes observes in the Discourse, even the
deaf and dumb are able to use signs to make themselves understood (HR,
1 :117). Descartes's statement regarding man's use of speech and other signs
locates the humanity of the subject within the realm of representation.
However, the representation of ideas involves the use of material signs and
thus modes of linguistic or nonverbal embodiment. Despite Descartes's ear-
lier denial of the body as the locus for the human, his affirmation of the sub-
ject's humanity through representation inescapably reintroduces the mater-
ial traces of the body and embodiment within the purview of rational
subjectivity.
Descartes's second distinction between the human and the machine relies
on his critique of the machine as a thing whose capacity to act is limited pre-
cisely because of its purely instrumental character. But it is important to
keep in mind that when Descartes criticizes the instrumental nature of the
machine, he is also necessarily alluding to his earlier equation of the body to
the machine. He goes on to claim that, while reason is a universal instru-
ment that can serve all contingencies, organs need special disposition or
adaptations for each particular action. 47 Hence, Descartes concludes, it is
impossible that there would be sufficient diversity in any machine to act in
all events of life (HR, 1:116). Thus while machines may be able to perform
certain functions better than we do, in the end they are limited by the fact
that they do not act out of knowledge but simply out of the disposition of
their organs. Descartes's critique of the machine serves as a strategic device
to highlight the omnipotence of reason as the true and sale referent for the
human. It also underlines the subservience and dependence of the body on
reason, that spectral entity which informs and controls the body's workings.
Struggling against the simulacral verisimilitude of the automaton,
Descartes locates the human in a knowledge that derives not from the logic
of the organism, but rather that supersedes the organic, since it governs its
very mechanisms. In so doing, he underlines the superiority and autonomy
of reason as a faculty that is independent of the material and mechanical
organization of the body, since the rational soul "could not be in any way
derived from the power of matter" (HR, 1:118). While Descartes recognizes
that it is insufficient to think of the rational soul as "lodged in the human
body like a pilot in his ship," and that it is "necessary that it should also be
joined and united more closely to the body" (HR, 1: 118), the Discourse will
provide no further details about how their conjoined nature could even
begin to be thought. Descartes's final conclusion that "our soul is in nature
entirely independent of the body" (HR, 1: 118) will make it all the more
difficult to envisage and mediate their relation. The rational soul's ultimate
autonomy from material and bodily reality implies that it functions in an
entirely different realm of existence. Having radically severed the relation of
the mind to the body, Descartes's subsequent efforts to suture their division
will continue to pose problems throughout his later works. 48
Descartes's insightful and powerful comments regarding the distinctions
between the human and the machine bring out the fundamental paradoxes
that underlie his conception of the body, and that continue to haunt con-
temporary discussions as well. Descartes's first test for identifying the
human with the capacity for representation, understood not merely as
speech but as the ability to communicate and embody ideas through non-
verbal signs, enters into conflict with his second test, which involves the lim-
ited instrumentality of the machine as material artifact. 49 If representation
signifies the capacity for embodiment, for attaining material manifestation
through signs, then the limited or specialized performance of the body as
material artifact could no longer be construed in opposition to the mind.
The material limits of the body would merely reflect a condition to which
reason is subject as well, to the extent that it seeks to define and communi-
cate its own nature. For the capacity of the mind to engage in representation
is not a virtual event, but becomes perceptible and communicable through
material signs, thereby bringing reason within the horizon of the body. Thus
Descartes's insightful and pioneering effort in the Discourse, his test to dis-
tinguish between the human and the machine raises questions that will
remain implicit in his subsequent elaboration of the mind-body dualism in
the Meditations.
As the next chapter will demonstrate, the problem that continues to
haunt the Cartesian system is that of conceptualizing the notion of embodi-
ment, finding a mediation between a disembodied reason and the mecha-
nized body. Descartes's initial anatomical schematization of the body
through the circulation of blood, and his subsequent resynthesis of the nat-
ural body as a machine dismembered from the mind, emerge as instances of
a process of virtualization that document the ascendancy of the automaton
over the experiential body. This virtualization of the body attains its philo-
sophical culmination in the Meditations, where Descartes elaborates a meta-
physical framework that first casts into doubt, only to supersede altogether,
the horizon of the experiential body. Haunted by an errant, disembodied
mind, the triumph of these virtual bodies over the lived body will raise the
specter of the inhuman as one of Descartes's most significant legacies to
the modern age. As the later chapters will demonstrate, this virtualization of
the body as physical entity will entail the aggressive resolidification of the
body as the object of practical discourses that will attend to its administra-
tion. 5o The dehumanization of the lived body, as physical organism, by the
machine will enable its instrumentalization and incorporation into the dis-
cursive and institutional frameworks of newly emergent disciplines in the
sciences, politics, and the arts.
Chapter 4
Spectral Metaphysics:
Errant Bodies and Bodies in Error
For I am one of those who deny that man understands by means

of the body.
-Rene Descartes
Descartes's Meditations on the First Philosophy are puzzling to the extent

that the ostensible aim of demonstrating the existence of God and the dis-
tinction between the mind and the body is underlain by the haunting invo-
cation and recurrent appearance of errant, spectral, and mechanical bodies.
From Descartes's insistent appeal to the presence of his own body, seated by
the fire with paper in hand, we find increasingly estranged representations of
the body, ranging from sleeping bodies to mad bodies haunted by specters
of automatic men. 1 This insistent focus on bodies in the context of medita-
tions is surprising, to the extent that its earlier counterparts, such as Loy-
ola's spiritual exercises, used contemplation exclusively to gain access to the
divine. 2 Descartes's Meditations, however, present a philosophical account
of a mental journey the stages of which are marked by a process of progres-
sive disembodiment, toward the inauguration of the birth of a rational, sec-
ular subject. 3 Given the metaphysical thrust of the Meditations, as evi-
denced in its efforts to define subjectivity according to rational criteria, the
persistent denunciation of the natural body as a site for error and its con-
current reappearance in the form of alienated or mechanical bodies is trou-
bling and invites further inquiry.4
In this detailed reading of the Meditations, I follow the trajectory of the
body both as a conceptual construction and as a rhetorical and metaphori-
cal figure. From the very inception of the Meditations, the radical critique of
the lived, experiential body emerges as the pivot that enables the emergence
of a metaphysical discourse that seeks to define human ontology within a
theological horizon. The progressive philosophical virtualization of the
lived body, culminating in its material disappearance, coincides with the
lived body's insistent reappearances as spectral, disembodied, or mechanical

apparitions. The proliferation of errant bodies in the Meditations will be
examined as a function of Descartes's derealization of the body and, hence,
as a manifestation of the larger problem of embodiment that haunts the
work. The reintroduction of the body and the material world at the end of
the Meditations will not resolve, nor correct, the initial erasure of the body
from the content of rational subjectivity. Having defined the scope of ratio-
nal subjectivity outside the purview of the body, the difficulty of addressing
the issue of embodiment will emerge as one of the most troubling legacies of
this compelling work.
Rather than reexamining and recapitulating the major arguments regard-
ing the passage from ordinary doubt to hyperbolic doubt, the sum argu-
ment, or the arguments for the existence of God, which I have treated exten-
sively in my earlier work on Descartes's elaboration of subjectivity, this
study of the Meditations examines them as a function of the body and
notions of embodiment. 5 For instance, the analysis of the hyperbolic doubt
argument will focus not merely on Descartes's radicalization of doubt, but
rather, on the form that doubt will take in the guise of the evil genius. This
propensity for error that defines the condition of the natural subject will be
resolved by an appeal to a fictional and axiomatic entity, the evil genius,
whose capacity for total embodiment and deception will remove the burden
of doubt associated with the ordinary condition of the subject as an embod-
ied entity.
Similarly, the "piece of wax" argument will not be read simply as an
argument for the unreliability of the senses, but as evidence of the difficulty
of conceiving the body, not as mathematical abstraction, but as an embod-
ied nature. This mechanical reduction of perceptual processes will foreclose
the possibility of a phenomenological access to the horizon of perception.
Descartes's belated efforts at the end of the Meditations to reembody the
rational subject through the reintroduction of the senses, along with imagi-
nation and memory, will prove to be a failure given the fundamental incom-
patibility between the definition of the nature of the mind and that of the
body. Although not specifically intended as a reflection on the body, the
Meditations suggest powerful new insights into the representation and
legacy of Descartes's conception of the body. They make visible the pivotal
role that the erasure of the lived body plays in the elaboration of the meta-
physical underpinnings of a subjectivity that can only sustain itself by con-
taining the representation of the body as a virtual entity, defined by the
confines of a mathematical-geometrical system.
From the very beginning of the Meditations, the question of doubt and
Spectral Metaphysics • 85
error is inalienably linked to the body. The quest for certitude, for the foun-
dations of a discourse of truth counters the evidentiary obstacle presented
by the body and the senses: "All that up to the present time I have accepted
as most true and certain I have learned either from the senses or through the
senses; but it is sometimes proved to me that these senses are deceptive, and
it is wiser not to trust entirely to any thing by which we have once been
deceived" (HR, 1:145). Descartes begins by recognizing the significance of
the body as a conduit for knowledge, insofar as learning proceeds from or
through the senses. This momentary affirmation of sensorial experience is
quickly supplanted by the ghostly traces of possible deception or error. The
fact that the senses are sometimes deceptive leads Descartes to call them into
question altogether and thus remove the body from the purview of knowl-
edge. 6 This initial affirmation of the body and of experience as a source for
knowledge is particularly interesting, since it represents Descartes's unique,
albeit provisional recognition of knowledge as embodied experience. The
removal of the body as an obstacle to true knowledge engenders not merely
its loss to a theory of knowledge, but the corollary loss of embodiment as a
constitutive paradigm.
This disqualification of the body, not merely as instrument but as conduit
for knowledge, reflects the impact of scientific developments in the seven-
teenth century, those of the Copernican revolution, and the research and
production of new scientific instrumentation? The counterintuitive discov-
ery that the earth moves around the sun is supplemented by optical experi-
ments with lenses that prosthetically enhance and expand the horizons of
the senses. The testimony of the senses is undermined by forms of mathe-
matical or technical evidence that supplant experience and the immediacy of
perception. 8 The living body ceases to function as a site both for knowledge
and as a generator of meaning, since the perceptual realm is being replaced
by notions of cognition that function in either purely virtual or technical
realms. The knowledge that the body supplies will be found to be contingent
and partial, and thus irreducible to a universal paradigm or governing
model. This is why perception in the Meditations will be in question both as
external and as internal fact, for its evidentiary nature will be deemed to be
deficient and disruptive, and thus fragmentary and insufficient for any ratio-
nal philosophical synthesis.
The First Meditation is marked by the paradoxical interplay of two
opposing representations of the body. On the one hand, Descartes's
advances the immediacy of his own bodily presence as evidence of the per-
suasive power of the senses; on the other hand, he uses his bodily presence
as a representation intended to cast doubt on the validity of all sense
perception. In this second instance, his bodily presence functions as a site for
deception, ranging from madness to dreams, suggesting that all forms of
sensorial evidence must be cast into doubt:
For example, there is the fact that I am here, seated by the fire, attired in a
dressing gown, having this paper in my hands and other similar matters. And
how could I deny that these hands and this body are mine, were it not per-
haps that I compare myself to certain persons, devoid of sense, whose cere-
bella are so troubled and clouded by the violent vapors of black bile, that
they constantly assure us that they think they are kings when they are really
quite poor, or that they are clothed in purple when they are really without
covering, or who imagine that they have an earthenware head or are nothing
but pumpkins who are made of glass. But they are mad and I should not be
any less insane were I to follow examples so extravagant. (HR, 1:145)
Presented in the first person, this passage reinforces the reader's attention
not merely on the present, but on the bodily presence of the speaking sub-
ject of the Meditations. The fact of Descartes's bodily presence brings into
focus the author of the Meditations as an embodied subject whose evidence
as a material and physical entity is presented as a rhetorically unassailable
fact. I say rhetorically, rather than philosophically, since it is precisely the
evidence of the senses and of the body that have already been in question
and placed under radical erasure through the bias of a totalizing negative
fiction in the Discourse. Descartes asks us rhetorically as to how he could
deny the evidence of his bodily presence. He is quick to reassure the reader
that such a denial is in the order of madness. 9 But the threat of madness that
Descartes conjures up in regard to the denial of the senses is a purely rhetor-
ical gesture, since that precise denial was enacted very simply and categori-
cally in the Discourse, in the hypostatic formulation by which he could feign
that he had no body, that there was no world, "or any place he might be"
(HR, 1:101).10 Thus what is interesting about the Meditations is precisely
the fact that bodily presence is affirmed first as the evidence of the senso-
rium, as an affirmation of the persuasive powers of the perceptual realm,
only to be denounced later as a dangerous lure capable of deluding the per-
spicacity of the mind.
The question that Descartes asks in this passage is, however, crucial to
his philosophy. Let us repeat this question as we read along with the text:
"And how could I deny that these hands and this body are mine?" 11 How in
fact can this denial be operated, for it would imply not merely the threat of
alienation or even madness, but an even more radical gesture of disposses-
sion, that of the loss not merely of our own body as we know it, but of its
facticity as it is experienced by others. However, the evocation of self-decep-
tion and madness in this passage takes place in the context of a strangely
reassuring experience; for Descartes relies on the performative evidence of
his own intimate representation, attired in a dressing gown, pen and paper
in hand to suggest the difficulty that he, and by extension the reader, would
encounter in its denial. 12 The madness that Descartes is invoking here has as
its precise object the possibility of the subject's disavowal of its own body,
a maddening contention that Descartes will audaciously pursue, against the
reassuring background of his self-presentation and performance as an
embodied subject. 13
If denying the evidence of the senses risks the threat of madness, their
naive affirmation will be proved to be a matter of illusion or even delusion.
Descartes pursues his argument by reminding himself of his own humanity,
particularly by suggesting that he can conjure up representations of himself
by the fire or even more extravagant ones in his sleep than in a state of mad-
ness. 14 The sensorial evidence of his own presence by the fire is now framed
by the doubt that such a representation does not refer to the external world,
but to the interior world of dreams leading him to conclude that "there are
no certain indications by which we may clearly distinguish wakefulness
from sleep" (HR, 1:147).15 However, the problem is not merely one of dis-
tinguishing the states of sleeping and wakefulness, but of accounting for the
veracity of the sensorial content present both in wakeful and dreaming
states. Whether it is a question of the physically experienced or imagined
body, these representations of embodiment are equally compelling in their
respective realms of wakefulness or sleep, thus casting into doubt the relia-
bility of all sensory data. Descartes's invocation of dreams here is particu-
larly interesting, since during sleep the body becomes in a certain sense "dis-
connected" from the mind. It is precisely the body's physical immobilization
and its shutting down of the external world that coincides with its mental
errancy, its illusionary freedom to embody itself in different guises by defy-
ing the conventions of space and time.
Descartes goes on to hypothesize that he is asleep in order to consider the
nature of the sensorial representations he experiences in dreams, while rec-
ognizing that "possibly neither our hands nor our whole body are such as
they appear to us to be" (HR, 1:146). Having uncovered the doubtful char-
acter of external sense perception, he now proceeds to explore the nature of
doubt as it applies to internal perceptions. While denying any direct refer-
ence between the waking and sleeping world, Descartes suggests that the
"things which are represented to us in sleep are like painted representa-
tions," which could only be formed as "counterparts of something real and
true" (1:146). Pursuing this painterly analogy, Descartes goes on to suggest
that these imaginary representations of eyes, a head, and hands refer less to
actual bodies in the external world, since they may be merely a composite
medley, than to "some other objects yet more simple and more universal
that are real and true" (1:146).16 Thus the imagined body in dreams is dis-
embodied and virtualized, insofar as its referential reality comes to be con-
stituted less by its perceptual semblance than by its abstract generalization
as a corporeal nature. As Descartes explains: "To such a class of things per-
tains corporeal nature in general, and its extension, the figure of extended
things, their quantity, magnitude and number" (1:146). But this notion of
universal corporeality no longer references the reality of the lived body as an
embodied entity, but rather the certitude of a mathematical system that
schematizes the body in the same way that it treats all other objects of
inquiry. Descartes proceeds to reify the lived body, first by undermining its
veracity through association with the errors of sense perception; and sec-
ond, by questioning its reality as the imaginary entity of dreams, only to
suggest its tenuous existence as a virtual entity whose hypothetical charac-
ter is that of a mathematical object, a disembodied thing lacking the very
indices of corporeality.
As Descartes is quick to admit, those sciences that have for consideration
the nature of "composite things are very dubious and uncertain," whereas
arithmetic and geometry treat things so very simple and very general that
without ascertaining whether things are "actually existent" they can attain
some measure of certainty and indubitability. It would seem that the
difficulty of determining the existence of the body, be it the physical or the
imagined one, is a consequence of its composite, embodied character. Only
the disembodiment of the body and its reduction to a hypothetical thing can
guarantee, not necessarily its existence in the world, but its virtual existence
within a system of mathematical certitude. Given this fundamental dismissal
of the body as a phenomenological and psychic entity, due to its consistent
identification as the site of error, the meditating subject must now contem-
plate the ultimate deception, the fact that it may not be the subject, but
rather the object of a deception enacted by someone else. This shift in
agency between being subject, as opposed to object, of doubt is essential
insofar as it reveals the fundamental epistemological impossibility of resolv-
ing the question of doubt within the confines of the embodied subject. It is
only by positing an exteriority that exceeds the limits of the lived body, by
fictionalizing doubt in the guise of the evil genius who acts as supreme
deceiver, that the lived body will be purged of the specters of error attached
to the manifestations of its own agency.
The Evil Genius: Fiction and the Loss of the Body
Thinking, like writing and painting, is almost no more than

letting a givable come towards you.
-J-F. Lyotard
It is in the context of the hyperbolization of doubt that the possibility of a
total doubt imposed by an exterior agent arises. First identified with God,
only to be later conveniently reassigned to the fictitious persona of the evil
genius, the possibility of a total, all-encompassing doubt comes into view:
Nevertheless 1 have long had fixed in my mind the belief that an all-powerful
God existed by whom I have been created such as I am. But how do I know
that He has not brought it to pass that there is no earth, no heaven, no
extended body, no magnitude, no place and that nevertheless [1 possess per-
ceptions of all these things and that] they seem to me to exist just exactly as
I now see them? (HR, 1:147)
Descartes concludes that although it is contrary to God's goodness that he

should thus be deceived, yet it is also true that he does "permit me to be
sometimes deceived" (1:147).'7 It is from the fact that he is subject to occa-
sional error that Descartes proceeds to produce the fable, first of God, and
later the "double of God": the evil genius whose function is to enact upon
the meditating subject the possibility of a total deception. 18 This fictitious
being removes the burden of agency from the meditating subject, as well as
the problem of occasional error tied to its ordinary existence as an embod-
ied subject, by inflicting upon the subject from the outside the incapacitat-
ing web of an absolute and totalizing deception.
Descartes goes on to suppose the existence of the evil genius, who
employs all his energies to deceive him and renders the world and all exter-
nal things mere illusions or dreams, elaborate traps of his credulity: "1 shall
consider myself as having no hands, no eyes, no flesh, no blood, nor any
senses, yet falsely believing myself to possess these things" (HR, 1: 148).
This hypothetical disavowal by the meditating subject of its own embodied
nature, involving the progressive self-mutilation of its body and senses,
enables the meditating subject to escape precisely those errors and decep-
tions to which it is subject by virtue of its embodied character. The meditat-
ing subject annuls, as it were, its condition as subject of error and experi-
ence, by submitting itself to the agency of the evil genius. As an agent of
total deception, the evil genius possesses an infinite capacity for embodi-
ment, since it can mislead the subject that considers itself as having no
hands, no eyes, or no body, into believing that he or she is still so incar-

nated. Such a deception is no longer in the realm of human error, but within
the purview of a metaphysical deception whose fictive character undermines
the referential capacities of the real,19
Thus the creation of Cartesian subjectivity in the Meditatiuns is mediated
by a special representation, that of the evil genius-a representation of
fiction par excellence. Its totality is not in the order of error, deception or
madness, but rather in the hyperbolic leap of reason through which the
meditating subject attempts to escape the possibility of error attached to its
embodied condition. The hypothesis of the evil genius is no ordinary
hypothesis, not merely for theological reasons, but for philosophical reasons
as well. As a self-posited and self-defined proposition this hypothesis shares
affinities with other types of axiomatic discourse, such as we encounter in
mathematics and logic. However, this hypothesis also has a figurative and
fictional character, insofar as the figurative reach of the hyperbole becomes
the basis for a contract that the subject enacts with the evil genius, its fictive
counterpart, through the medium of rhetoric in order to posit itself as an
originary point before all determinations of its particular modes of exis-
tence. The totalizing power of the hyperbole as a rhetorical gesture thus
arches both before and beyond subjectivity and becomes the index of its
purely rhetorical existence. The hyperbolic audacity of the evil genius is to
postulate the possibility of a totality that spares nothing, neither bodily "or
intellectual perceptions, thus overriding the limitations of the meditating
subject as an embodied and reasoning entity. "20
In the Second Meditation, Descartes obsessively returns to his earlier for-
mulations of hyperbolic doubt by stating again that he has persuaded him-
self that nothing exists of all that fallacious memory represents to him.21 His
passing mention of memory expands his earlier critique of the senses and
dreams, since memory contains and preserves the traces of the meditating
subject as an embodied entity. He restates that he possesses no senses, and
that body, figure, et cetera are but fictions of his mind. Descartes then pro-
ceeds to elaborate the sum argument, establishing the certitude of his exis-
tence no longer by relying upon thought as a founding premise, as he did in
the Discourse, but by virtue of the deception perpetrated by the evil genius:
I myself, am I not at least something? But I have already denied that I had
senses and a body. Yet I hesitate, for what follows from that? Am I so depen-
dent on body and senses that I cannot exist without them? But I was per-
suaded that there was nothing in all the world, that there was no heaven, no
earth, that there were no minds nor any hodies: was I not then likewise per-
suaded that I did not exist? Not at all; of a surety I myself did exist since I
persuaded myself of something [or merely because I thought of something].

But there is some deceiver or other, very powerful and very cunning, who
ever employs his ingenuity in deceiving me. Then without doubt I exist also
if he deceives me, and let him deceive me as much as he will, he can never
cause me to be nothing so long as I think that I am something. So that after
having reflected well and carefully examined things, we must come to the
definite conclusion that this proposition: I am, I exist, is necessarily true each
time I pronounce it, or that I mentally conceive it. (HR, 1:150)
In the articulation of the sum argument, Descartes moves quickly away

from an argument for existence based on a model of self-persuasion, which
would be liable to internal deception, toward a determination of existence
founded on an external deception enacted upon him by the evil genius. 22
The sum argument strips away not only all bodily qualities, but also mental
attributes, since the earlier arguments regarding dreams and madness have
rendered even mental content suspect to deception.23 Defined as a proposi-
tion of pure existence, "I am, I exist," the representation of subjectivity fos-
tered by the sum argument represents an impossible reduction, a hypotheti-
cal zero point, attained through the fictional and rhetorical virtualization of
the notion of subjectivity.24
Engendered through the decentering figurative reach of the hyperbole,
this zero point of subjectivity, defined as pure existence, is so general that it
makes it difficult for the subject to properly identify itself and not mistake
itself for some other object: "But 1 do not know clearly enough what 1 am, I
who am certain that I am, and I must be careful to see that I do not impru-
dently take some other object in place of myself" (HR, 1:150). Descartes's
expressed prudence, however, is not merely a reflection of his fear of conta-
minating the indubitable nature of the certitude attained regarding his exis-
tence. Rather, the problem is that this certitude regarding existence does not
provide one with any particular knowledge about oneself. This proposition
regarding existence is so general that it makes it impossible for the meditat-
ing subject to locate and identify its own specific content. The purely virtual
existence of the subject endangers its capacities for recognizing itself as a
specific entity, thereby generating the possibility of both error and errancy,
of mistaking oneself for something else. For this reason, Descartes must
backtrack in his argument to what he formerly believed, to his belief in
being a man, in order to reconstitute the content necessary to reembody or
reincarnate himself as a particular subject.
Eschewing the Scholastic definition of man as a reasonable animal, which
would require further inquiry into the meaning of these terms, Descartes
proceeds to consider his own thoughts in order to derive an understanding
of his own being. 25 He begins with a description of his body that is so clin-
ically remote as to suggest that he is speaking in the third person. The body
is itemized with such complete detachment that its personal attachment to
the speaker comes into doubt: "In the first place, then, I considered myself
as having a face, hands and arms, and all that system of members composed
of flesh and bones as seen in a corpse which I designated by the name of a
body" (HR, 1:151). Thus, when the body is brought back in the Medita-
tions in order to be rejoined to the subject, defined as pure existence, its own
nature has changed, for the body returns not as an animate entity, but an
artificial, mechanical one. Thus another body comes onto the scene, one
whose prosthetic logic organizes mechanically a cadaver. Having been dere-
alized as subjective agency, the body returns as brute physical fact, as a
thing whose purely material and mechanical nature excludes all forms of
agency and memorial imprints, such as we saw in Montaigne's formulation
of the body.
When Descartes goes on to specify the nature of his existence, he focuses
on thought as the sole attribute that belongs inseparably to him. 26 Thought
is now reintroduced into the sum argument, no longer a founding premise
that enables the elaboration of the existence of the subject as in the case of
the cog ito argument, but as an attribute or characteristic that defines the
existence of the subject as a thinking thing (sum res cogitans}.27 In the con-
text of the sum argument thought itself is objectified, since it returns in the
guise of a thing. The reintroduction of thought here serves to preserve it
from contamination by forms of error and deception that the meditating
subject encountered earlier in the Meditations. However, the problem is to
identify the nature of this thinking thing, or as Marin Mersenne argues in
Objections II: "but you do not know what this thinking thing is" (HR,
2:25). This thought that appears in the mode of a thing is one that is difficult
to know precisely because its disembodied character does not reference any
corporeal natures. 28 If Descartes begins to speak about the imagination at
this point, this is precisely because he seeks to identify clearly the disem-
bodied nature of thought. 29 Descartes goes on to specify that the knowledge
and certitude he possesses of his own existence does not depend on the
imagination, nor those things he can feign in imagination:
An indeed the very term feign in imagination (effmgo) proves to me my error,

for I really do this if I image myself as something, since to imagine is nothing
else than to contemplate the figure or image of a corporeal thing. But I
already know for certain that I am, and that it may be that all these images,
and, speaking generally, all things that relate to the nature of body are noth-
ing but dreams [and chimeras). (HR, 1:152)
This dissociation of thought from the imagination is very significant insofar

as Descartes seeks to preserve thought from the errors and illusions of the
imagination. However, since Descartes defines the imagination as the con-
templation of a figure or image of corporeal things, its removal from the
realm of thought associated with certitude suggests that his definition of
thought is disembodied, for nothing corporeal is known to exist in it. 3D It is
only later in Meditation Six that the separation of the body and soul will be
formalized, culminating in the assertion that the essence of the soul is in
thought alone and that the body cannot think.
In trying to specify further the nature of his content as a thinking thing,
Descartes modifies his earlier formulation by introducing the imagination
and the senses as powers or modes by which the mind thinks. But this rein-
troduction of the imagination and the senses not as faculties but as modes of
thought is confusing to the extent that it appears to cast into question the
incorporeality of the mind: "What is a thing which thinks? It is a thing
which doubts, understands, [conceives], affirms, denies, wills, refuses,
which also imagines and feels" (HR, 1:153). In this second formulation of
the sum res cogitans argument, understanding is included as a mode along-
side imagination and sensation. Stephen Gaukroger notes that this second
characterization of the thinking thing must be qualified, since the inclusion
of such corporeal faculties as imagination and sensation (which also pertain
to animals) threatens the specificity of the human mind. He identifies the
distinctive character of human cognition as an awareness of one's mental
states. 31 However, this modal expansion of thought does not redefine the
priority accorded to the disembodied mind, for to do so would imply, as
Gueroult suggests, the substitution of an ordinary psychological conscious-
ness for mathematical-rational intelligence. 32 Descartes's subsequent
demonstrations in the Meditations support this contention, insofar as he
maintains the indivisible nature of the mind as opposed to the divisibility of
the body (HR, 1:196). Moreover, the elaboration of the wax argument,
which immediately follows this discussion, will prove that the understand-
ing alone, and not the imagination and the senses, belongs to the true order
of the mind.
Descartes advances the argument of the piece of wax as a means of test-
ing the naive belief that objects known through the senses and the imagina-
tion are better known than those truths that he has established regarding his
"real nature," such as his definition of the subject as a thinking thing. The
argument pits the limits of sensorial and imaginative evidence against the
abstract cognition of the understanding. In so doing, Descartes elucidates
the nature of the thinking thing through a particular analysis of the modes
of thinking in relation to external bodies. The tangibility of the piece of wax

becomes paradigmatic of the immediacy and presence of corporeal bodies,
of their rhetorical force as bodies available to the senses:
Let us take, for example, this piece of wax: it has been taken quite freshly
from the hive, and it has not yet lost the sweetness of the honey which it con-
tains; it still retains somewhat of the odor of the flowers from which it has
been culled; its color, its figure, its size are apparent; it is hard, cold, easily
handled, and if you strike it with the finger, it will emit a sound. Finally all
the things which are requisite to cause us distinctly to recognize a body, are
met within it. (HR, 1:154)"
The piece of wax represents the total gamut of perceptual qualities in all
their immediate eloquence: those of taste, odor, color, figure, size, and
sound. 34 The clarity and distinction of these perceptions is, however,
quickly undermined once Descartes brings this piece of wax into the prox-
imity of fire, since taste is exhaled, color altered, figure destroyed; size
increases and the wax liquefies to the point where it can no longer be held.
While Descartes ascertains the permanence of the wax after this change, he
concludes the impermanence of the senses to provide us with reliable infor-
mation, since what was perceptible in one form is now perceptible under
others. 35 When he proceeds to abstract "all that does not belong to the
wax," he discovers that "nothing remains except a certain extended thing
which is flexible and moveable" (1 :154): that is, an abstract conception that
he will assign to the mind alone, rather than to the senses or the imagina-
tion. 36
Before being altogether swept away by the persuasive elegance and sim-
plicity of this argument, let us backtrack for an instant, for the argument of
the piece of wax proves less the unreliability of the senses than the problem
of thinking the body not as a mathematical abstraction, but as an embodied
natureY The difference in perceptual experiences that qualify the two states
of the wax reflects precisely the fact that the wax is not only matter defined
abstractly as extension, flexibility, and movability, but that it has particular
configurations in its various physical manifestations. The differences in per-
ception involving the particular states of the wax at two different moments
attest less to the deceptive or illusory aspects of perception than to the prob-
lem of universalizing perception across time. The problem posed by the
piece of wax as a hody is its multiplicity in its various physical states and
temporal manifestations. The choice of wax in this context is particularly
telling, since its malleability and flexibility as a substance implies that it can
take on multiple configurations or embodiments. Whereas earlier in his
writings Descartes argued for the passivity of the senses by using the anal-
ogy of the imprint of a seal on wax, here in the Meditations he uses the wax
in its multiple embodiments to argue the failure of perception to provide
meaningful information about the world. In so doing, he redefines the wax
as a thing that is no longer a body. Now defined as an "extended thing," this
"same wax" no longer references the phenomenal world, but rather the
immaterial reality of a geometric and mathematical schematism. This geo-
metric description of the wax as an extended thing does not describe it as a
body in the world, since this geometrical notion of thinghood is so general
as to defy embodiment. This reification and disembodiment of the wax,
through the removal of its perceptual qualities as a body, leads to its math-
ematical virtualization. As it recedes from the realm of perception, it
becomes ghostly and spectral, since its reality is no longer defined by the
physical world, but rather by its capacity for being instrumentalized in order
to confirm and find adequation in the virtual realm of mathematical
schematism. Thus the validity of the senses and experiential reality arc rad-
ically undermined through this homology between the mind and the order
of mathematical schematism.
Following the wax argument, which concludes with the affirmation of
the powers of the understanding or the mind, Descartes returns in a last··
ditch effort to consider the power of vision. As the noblest sense, vision is
singled out precisely because its perceptual qualities of clarity and distinc-
tion rival the mind's own ambitions to attain such mental intuitions in its
search for certitude. 38 Since the perceptual clarity of vision stands in com-
petition with the mind's conceptual clarity, Descartes will suggest that the
validity of perceptual vision is based on an ultimate illusion, an elaborate,
artificial chimera engendered by automatic machines pretending to be
human. 39 He concludes the wax argument by positing a highly theatrical
and contrived spectacle:
From this I should conclude that I knew the wax by means of vision and not
simply by an intuition of the mind; unless by chance I remember that, when
looking from the window and saying that I see men who pass in the street, I
really do not see them, but infer that what I see is men, just as I say that I see
the wax. And yet what do I see from the window but hats and coats which
may cover automatic machines? Yet I judge these to be men. (HR, 1:155)40
This spectral parade of automata that mimic humans by appropriating their

vestments in order to pass by Descartes's windows is disconcerting, not in
terms of its deliberate intent to cast doubt on our faith in vision, but because
it reveals something fundamental about Descartes's usurpation of the
senses, the body, and what it ultimately means to be human. What is inter-
esting about Descartes's example is precisely the fact that it is paradigmatic
of his general strategy in the Meditations, since the invocation of the virtual
or the machine as fictive entities functions to reveal the deceptive and illu-
sionistic character of visual and other forms of perception. These automatic
machines are in fact embodiments of Descartes's reductionist account of the
body, with the exception that they are here given an agency and the ability
to haunt the human by impersonating it. The simulacrum appears to gain on
the real, not merely by supplanting it, but by mimicking it so successfully as
to destroy reality itself as a frame of reference. Like the evil genius, the
double of God who can perpetuate the ultimate fiction of a total deception,
so do these automatons undermine through their fictional verisimilitude the
human world of perception and the material world that it references.
As Descartes's attempts to strip the automatons of their hats and coats,
in order to denounce the artifices and deceptions perpetuated by vision, the
body has ceased to be in question, having been replaced by a machine.
Descartes's subsequent claim to strip the wax to its bare essentials as a body,
to "distinguish the wax from its external forms" as if he "had taken from it
its vestments" in order to consider it in its "naked" form, reveals that both
the notion of the body and that of embodiment are evacuated in the
process. 41 Ostensibly an argument about the force of perception, insofar as
it engages with the world in the guise of bodies in order to affirm the valid-
ity of the mind alone as the site for true knowledge, the wax argument sun-
ders both the subject's relation to the world, and by extension to its own
body, effectively evacuating it from the world. The world is thus derealized,
transformed into chimeras whose spectral and ghostly nature taunt and
undermine the possibility of any human reality. These automatons and
machines adumbrate the anamorphic, virtual reality of a posthumanist
world whose technological essence defines itself through impossible fictions,
hypotheses of inhuman conceits.
Is It Human?
For the exclusive prioritization of consciousness is of course a

kind of madness.
-Francis Barker
What then remains of the human, when it has been stripped not only of per-
ception but of its very connection with and embeddedness in the world? The
Third Meditation outlines this new condition of the subject, as it meditates

upon its own solipsistic, almost apocalyptic existence:
I shall now close my eyes, I shall stop my ears, I shall call away all my senses,
I shall efface even from my thoughts all the images of corporeal things, or at
least (for that is hardly possible) I shall esteem them as vain and false; and
thus holding converse only with myself and considering my own nature, I
shall try little by little to reach a better knowledge of and acquaintanceship
with myself. I am a thing that thinks. (HR, 1:157)
The meditating subject blinds itself to the world by closing its eyes, it can-
cels the intrusion of the world by stopping the ears, and more radically, it
even erases the internal traces of the world in the mind by effacing from
thought all images of corporeal things (as if this were possible) by esteeming
them as vain and false. The attempt to efface all images of corporeal things
is intended to erase the imprint and memory of the bodily traces of the
world that populate the mind of the introspective subject. Thus this self-
mutilatory stripping of the subject through the severance of all connective
ties to the world is enacted both externally and internally. This violent and
forcible removal of the subject from the fabric of the world coincides with
the introspective closure and enfolding-over of the subject onto itself into a
private conversation that the subject undertakes with itself. However, this
radical deracination of all bodily things from the subject and denial of its
embodied character uses a model of introspection, only to deny alterity as
possible content or result of self-reflection. It is important to recall that in
Augustine's Confessions, introspection is a model for faith, rather than self-
understanding, and that it functions as a vehicle for an encounter with the
alterity of the divine. 42 Moreover, as the earlier discussion of Montaigne's
Essays indicated, the introspective examination of the self leads invariably
to the discovery of the other, to the redefinition of the self in an intersubjec-
tive mode. For Montaigne, it is precisely the solitude and isolation of the self
that reveals to the self its embodied character in the writings of others, bear-
ing within itself the estranging script of its worldly and cultural history.43
Breaking with these traditions, the Cartesian model for introspection seeks
to establish through self-reflection the rational essence of the meditating
subject.
Descartes's effort to get to know himself "by holding converse only with
myself," recalls the Platonic definition of thinking as a discourse that the
mind carries on with itself without spoken sound. But as Merleau-Ponty
reminds us, the meditating subject's effort to engage with itself through con-
versation, by seeking an invisible intimacy with itself, implies an impossible
transparency: "We must accustom ourselves to understand that 'thought'

(cogitatio) is not an invisible contact of self with self, that it lives outside this
intimacy with oneself, in front of us, not in us, always excentric. "44 His
reminder serves to alert us to the fact that the transparency that the Carte-
sian subject seeks with itself is illusory, insofar as thinking, understood as
this internal conversation or dialogue, necessarily implies the use of signs, of
forms of material mediation that are "excentric" to the extent that they
imply the alterity of intersuhjective exchange and the use of embodied signs.
The subject's effort to come to know itself as a thinking thing thus brings
hack the previously excluded world, insofar as the internal reflection of
thought cannot sustain itself without the support of some form of worldly
embodiment. 4s
It is interesting to note that Descartes's contemporaries Arnauld and
Gassendi, in their objections to the Meditations questioned the wisdom of
Descartes's account of the mind to the exclusion of the body. In the Fourth
Objection, Arnauld cautions that it is not clear to him that a knowledge
obtained by excluding the body from one's essence is either complete or ade-
quate (HR, 2:83). Gassendi in the Fifth Objection is even more pointed, for
he questions Descartes's exclusion of all corporeality from his thinking
essence, including the introspective, self-reflective turn of the mind: "But
what if the mind is unable to turn towards itself or towards any idea with-
out at the same time turning itself towards something corporeal, or repre-
sented by a corporeal idea?" (HR, 2:192). Gassendi's question addresses the
very fallacy of the Cartesian account of the mind presented above, to the
extent that it sought to autonomize thought and afflrm its transparency.
Although Descartes affirms the self-identity of thought by severing its rela-
tions to the body and carries this operation to its hypothetical extreme by
effacing from the mind all images of corporeal things in order to deny its
embodied character, his thought remains within the inescapable horizon of
the body. But the philosophical and rhetorical illusion that the mind can free
itself of the body, that there can be a thinking without the body, will con-
tinue to persist both for him and for the tradition. 46
Although Descartes tries, through the reintroduction of other elements of
his subjective existence as modes of thought, to specify his nature as a think-
ing thing, as one who doubts, affirms, denies, wills, desires, and also imag-
ines and perceives, this reintroduction of modal content is secondary to his
primary claim regarding the self-identity of thought. This strategy of rein-
troduction is by no means intended to restore our conventional understand-
ing of the subject as an embodied entity. Rather, the belated reintroduction
of the material world and the body in the Sixth Meditation coincides with
their reappearance as mathematical objects and takes place in the context of

the elaboration of the separation of mind from the body.47 Descartes opens
the Sixth Meditation with the claim, "Nothing further now remains but to
inquire whether material things exist. And certainly I at least know that
these things may exist insofar as they are considered as the objects of pure
mathematics, in this aspect I perceive them clearly and distinctly" (HR,
1:185).48 The reintroduction of the material world in the guise of mathe-
matical objects-that is, as virtual entities devoid of any sensorial or embod-
ied character-signals Descartes's persistent effort to maintain the separa-
tion between the virtual world of cognition and that of the material world
made available through imagination and perception.
When Descartes considers attentively the imagination, he finds that "it is
nothing but a certain application of the faculty of knowledge to the body
which is immediately present to it, and which therefore exists" (HR,
1 :185).49 This passing comment that derives the existence of the body from
the imagination is deceptive, given Descartes's initial rejection of the imagi-
nation as a foundational term and his later qualification that the existence
of the body can only be derived from the imagination as conjecture or prob-
ability (1:187).50 Having attempted to recognize the imagination as a mode
of thought in the Second and Third Meditations, he now goes on, however,
to establish a radical distinction between the imagination and intellection. 51
Taking the example of the chiliagon, a thousand-sided geometric figure,
Descartes underlines the limited capacity of the imagination to visualize this
virtual figure, as opposed to the conceptual grasp attained through pure
intellection (intellectionem).52 This leads him to remark that "this power of
imagination which is in one, inasmuch as it differs from the power of under-
standing, is in no wise a necessary element in my nature, or in [my essence,
that is to say, in] the essence of my mind; for although I did not possess it I
should doubtless ever remain the same as I now am" (1:186). Compared to
the understanding that comes to constitute the essence of the mind, the
imagination is marginalized because of its turn toward the world, since "it
depends on something which differs from me" (1:186).53 The imagination is
presented as extrinsic, even incidental, to the essence of the subject defined
in terms of the self-reflexive mind. 54
Descartes's critique of the imagination references directly the question of
the body. He goes on to specify that the imagination differs from pure intel-
lection precisely because of its engagement with the body: "as mind in its
intellectual activity in some manner turns on itself, and considers some of
the ideas which it possesses in itself; while in imagining it turns towards the
body and there beholds in it something conformable to the idea which it has
either conceived of itself or perceived through the senses" (HR, 1:186). The
mind's self-reflective inspection of itself excludes the body, which is rele-
gated to the domain of the imagination. 55 For Descartes, the imagination
involves this turn toward the body, in order to confirm something previ-
ously conceived or perceived through the senses. However, as Descartes
subsequently notes, the existence of the body cannot be deduced from the
imagination other than as probability or conjecture (1: 186-87). Hence the
idea of corporeal nature derived through the imagination proves to be
insufficient for the elaboration of a philosophical argument regarding the
existence of the body. While the reintroduction of the imagination into the
subjective content of the meditating subject involves the recognition of its
bodily character, this claim does not modify in any substantive sense
Descartes's previous philosophical position regarding the self-identity of the
mind and its distinction from the body.
Upon their reintroduction by an appeal to commonsense experience, the
senses and the body fare no better than the imagination. While Descartes
admits to having persuaded himself that he "had no idea in his mind that
had not formerly come through the senses" (HR, 1:188), this insight rapidly
leads him to a radical critique of the unreliability of the senses. Similarly, his
admission that his body belongs to him is undermined by the subsequent
affirmation of the separation of the mind from the body. It is through the
senses that Descartes forms the belief that his body belongs to him, and that
he cannot be separated from it, as from other bodies: "Nor was it without
some reason that I believed that this body (which by a certain special right I
call my own) belonged to me more properly and more strictly than any
other; for in fact I could never be separated from it as from other bodies"
(1: 188). This sense of belonging that qualifies the sensorial experience of the
body affirms less the inseparability of the body proper than the sense of sep-
aration experienced in relation to other bodies. Descartes's difficulty in
articulating how the body belongs to him and his inability to describe the
nature of that bond other than by an appeal to a "certain special right"
whose nature is left unelucidated reveal the dilemma posed by embodiment.
It also serves to alert us to the absence of a system of mediation that would
bridge the gap between the senses and the subject's experience of itself.
The reintroduction of the senses in the Sixth Meditation results in their
final dismissal, since Descartes uses his experiences to uncover the errors
and illusionism of sensory perception:
But afterwards many experiences little by little destroyed all the faith which
I had rested in my senses; for I from time to time observed that those towers
which from afar appeared to me to be round, more closely seemed square,

and that colossal statues raised on the summit of these towers, appeared as
quite tiny statues, when viewed from the bottom; and so in an infinitude of
other cases I found error in judgments founded on the external senses. (HR,
1:189)
The multiplicity of experiences with their various even contradictory sen-

sory content leads him to conclude their total unreliability. 56 It is precisely
because experience is embodied as multiple and apparently discontinuous
representations, that he is led to conclude the error of the senses. 57 But the
problem here concerns less the senses than Descartes's incapacity to con-
ceive the variable and changing nature of experience. 58 Descartes uses expe-
rience both to claim the deceptive nature of the senses and to cast experience
itself into question, as an evidentiary system capable of generating an objec-
tive-that is, a universal and consistent-understanding of the world. 59 The
multiplicity of experience fragments, by its partial and framed perspectival
character, the illusion of a unified and coherent subjective vantage-point
that would be continuous temporally and spatially. The error in the judg-
ment based on the senses suggests not only the embodied nature of sensor-
ial experience, but also a fundamental discontinuity and cognitive incoher-
ence in the viewing subject insofar as it is also an object in the world.
If the senses prove to be deceptive with regards to the external world, the
internal perceptions regarding the body's own awareness and knowledge of
itself prove no less unreliable. 6o The internal experience of the body is
proved to be as much the subject of error as that experience provided by the
external senses. Taking as an example the mutilated body of an amputee,
Descartes derealizes the referential reality of pain by describing it as the
effect of a phantom limb:
And not only in those founded on the external senses, but even in those
founded on the internal as well; for is there anything more intimate and more
internal than pain? And yet I have learned from some persons whose arms
and legs have been cut off, that they sometimes seemed to feel pain in the part
that has been amputated, which made me think that I could not be quite cer-
tain that it was a certain member that pained me, even though I felt pain in
it. (HR, 1:189)
He attempts to show that the reality of pain does not reference the body
directly, since pain is experienced by the amputee as a reflection of the sub-
ject's prior embodied condition. 61 Despite its immediacy, its intimate and
personal character, the experience of pain appears to designate not merely
the reality of the physical body, but also that of the imagined body.62
Descartes's example thus suggests less the unreliability of internal sensorial

experience than the fact that the body it references may be a multiple entity.
Internal sense perception disrupts the unity of both the subject and the body
not through deception per se, but by making visible the embodied condition
of the subject in terms of multiple referents. The undecidability between the
physical and imagined body renders the evidence of the internal senses prob-
lematic, insofar as it disables the subject from grasping the certitude of its
own body as a single and unified totality. Thus the question regarding the
doubtful character of internal sense perception reveals a far more funda-
mental problem concerning both the referential instability of the body and
its plural existence as diverse modes of embodiment. After having dis-
qualified the senses, both in terms of external and internal perception,
Descartes returns to his earlier elaboration of the subject as a thinking thing
by noting that no other thing necessarily pertains to his essence: "my essence
consists solely in the fact that I am a thinking thing [or a substance whose
whole essence or nature is to thinkl" (1:190). This reaffirmation of his ear-
lier conclusion that he is a thinking thing, however, is intended not only to
define the essence of the meditating subject, but also to establish definitively
the separation of the mind from the body:
And although possibly (or rather certainly, as I shall say in a moment) I pos-
sess a body with which I am very intimately conjoined, yet because, on the
one side, I have a clear and distinct idea of myself inasmuch as I am only a
thinking thing, and as, on the other, I possess a distinct idea of body, inas-
much as it is an extended and unthinking thing, it is certain that this I [that is
to say, my soul by which I am what I am], is entirely and absolutely distinct
from the body and can exist without it. (1:190)
While restating the possibility that he possesses a body to which he is inti-

mately conjoined, Descartes reiterates the two things that he knows with
certitude, since he possesses a clear and distinct idea of them: on the one
hand, that he is a thinking thing, and on the other hand, that he has an idea
of the body as an extended, but unthinking thing. 63 However, Descartes is
not content to merely affirm these two notions separately; he goes on to
emphasize explicitly the distinct separation of the soul from the body and
concludes by stating that the soul can exist without the body.64 This latter
conclusion does away with the body as material support by upholding the
soul's independence and autonomy from the body and suggests its immor-
tality, its capacity to escape, by virtue of its immaterial nature, all material
and worldly constraints. 65
This radical claim regarding the separation of the mind from the body
makes it difficult, even impossible, to think the nature of subjectivity as an

embodied entity. Given the chasm between the immateriality of the soul and
the materiality of the body, the effort to mediate between them by thinking
their union emerges as one of the most problematic sites in Cartesian phi-
losophy.66 Although a few pages later Descartes will stress the substantial
union and intermingling of mind and body, this effort to reintegrate the two
. . .
remams unconvmcmg:
Nature also teaches me by these sensations of pain, hunger, thirst, etc., that I
am not lodged in my body as a pilot in a vessel, but that I am very closely
united to it, and so to speak so intermingled with it that I seem to compose
with it one whole .... for all these sensations of hunger, thirst, pain, etc., are
in truth none other than certain confused modes of thought which are pro-
duced by the union and apparent intermingling of mind and body. (HR,
1:192)6~
As opposed to his Treatise on Man, where he described the rational soul in

its relation to the body-machine as a fountain-keeper, Descartes seeks here
to change his position. In his reply to Arnauld's objection, Descartes explic-
itly states that he wants to avoid the inference that "man was merely a spirit
that makes use of a body" (HR, 2:102).68 Such an inference would imply
precisely what Descartes has suggested all through the Meditations, that the
mind as pure spirit "haunts" the body by disposing of it as a mere vehicle.
Moreover, given Descartes's prior critique of internal sensation, and espe-
cially of the doubtful nature of pain insofar as it references the body, it now
becomes difficult to recoup pain as the insignia of the substantial union of
the mind and the body.69 The fact that there may be an interaction between
the mind and the body does not clarify, nor does it necessarily attest to, their
substantial union.7° Thus Descartes's attempt to reembody himself, so as to
compose a whole with his own body, conflicts with his prior claims regard-
ing the philosophical centrality and metaphysical exclusivity of the mind.71
The mind's essential definition in terms of thought and exclusive of corpo-
reality renders the conceptual task of reinfusing it and intermingling it with
the body difficult, if not altogether impossible.72 For it is precisely the
description of the body as an unthinking and extended thing, and the lack
of a theory of embodiment, that hinders the body's substantial reconnection
to the mind.
Descartes's subsequent analogy of the human body to a clock observing
the laws of nature, his description of the body as a machine, reveals tangi-
bly the dilemma of integrating the mind into a mechanical system: "if I con-
sider the body of a man as being a sort of machine so built up and composed
of nerves, muscles, veins, blood and skin, that though there were no mind in
it at all, it would not cease to have the same motions as at present, excep-
tion being made of those movements which are due to the direction of the
will, and in consequence depend upon the mind [as opposed to those that
operate at the disposition of its organs] ... " (HR, 1:195). The analogy of
the human body with a machine, where the organic components are reduced
to mechanical counterparts, implies an objectification of the body that
deprives it of any possible agency. Operating purely as a mechanism, such a
body functions by virtue of the disposition of its organs, independently of
the mind. 73 The appeal to the will, and thus by extension to the mind, only
serves to underline the difficulty of locating these forms of human agency
within the logic of the mechanism. These forms of agency appear to haunt
the mechanism, as an afterthought. The disembodiment of the body into a
machine, a purely mechanical analogue of an organism, removes the body
from the surrounding world and undermines its ability to inform and com-
municate with the mind. While the mechanization of the body renders it
available as an object of knowledge, it forecloses the possibility that the
body may function as an agent and site for mediating knowledge. It is pre-
cisely the objective clarity of the mechanized body that elides its capacity to
be reconnected either with the mind or with the world. When Descartes
later specifies that the body is by nature divisible and the mind indivisible
(1:196), this fundamental re-affirmation of their difference makes it even
more difficult to imagine how two such different natures may be intermin-
gled and connected so as to attain a substantial union.
At the end of the Meditations something surprising happens. Descartes
mentions laying aside hyperbolic doubt, not only to recognize that the
senses may indicate more truth than falsehood, but more significantly to
reflect on the role of memory, a term previously devalued in the text?4 But
Descartes is not interested in considering memory itself as a faculty, but
rather in positing memory as an answer to the earlier question that he posed
himself regarding the distinction between waking and sleeping states. Mem-
ory proves to be instrumental to the identity of the rational subject, for it
provides the temporal continuity necessary for the perceived existence of the
meditating subject in time.7 5 According to Descartes, the role of memory is
that it "can never connect our dreams with one another or with the whole
course of our lives, as it unites events which happen to us awake" (HR,
1 :199). It is memory that provides the bridge for the Cartesian subject to
extend and expand its rational dominion, by providing a horizon for both
synthesis and continuity otherwise unavailable to it. It is memory that sup-
plies the temporal horizon of the waking subject:
And, as a matter of fact, if someone while I was awake, quite suddenly

appeared to me and disappeared as fast as do the images which I see in sleep,
so that I could not know whence the form came nor whither it went, it would
not be without reason that I should deem it a specter or phantom formed by
my brain [and similar to those I form in sleep], rather than a real man.
(1:199)
The specter or phantom that haunts Descartes, the sudden apparition and
disappearance of a man that he is unable to contextualize either in terms of
origin or destination, captures the very drama of the Cartesian text. At issue
is less the manifest distinction that he seeks to draw between the states of
wakefulness and sleep than the far more fundamental problem that the very
subject of the Meditations, as it is defined to date, is like the spectral entity
that he conjures up as the effect of his dreams. Without memory, without
the capacity of dwelling in time, the rational subjectivity of the Meditations
remains purely punctual and discontinuous.?6 It is only by contextualizing
perceptions and connecting them with the course of his life through memory
that Descartes can assure the position of the waking, rational subject.
This appeal to and inscription of memory, which appears almost as an
afterthought at the end of the Meditations, alerts us not merely to its
significance, but also to the impossibility of maintaining the rational subject
in its disembodied condition. Although throughout his earlier writings and
his correspondence Descartes has denounced and even rejected the role of
memory, his reintroduction of memory at this point demonstrates precisely
how necessary memory is, both in terms of locating the subject in time, and
in enabling it to connect a variety of experiences. Memory ensures the per-
petuation of the self-identity of the rational subject. As the faculty that
makes it possible for an individual to retain and recall past experiences into
consciousness, memory involves images, impressions or thoughts, embodied
imprints capturing the semblance of the experiential world, which Descartes
up to this point has radically called into question. Along with the imagina-
tion, which Descartes associates with the body, these memorial traces
record the condition of the subject as embodied nature.
By severing the relation of the mind and the body in the Meditations, and
reintroducing only belatedly and as an afterthought the imagination and
memory into the content of subjectivity, Descartes undermines the possibil-
ity of their functioning as a site of mediation for the mind-body duality. It is
precisely the exploration of the sensorial character of the imagination that
could provide insight into the embodied nature of the subject. Considered as
a system of inscription and transcription, memory offers a scriptorial model
that would enable the subject to record and transmit its embodied nature.
Without imagination and memory to capture and transmit its embodied

imprints, the Cartesian body is bereft of any ability to communicate with,
inform, or connect with the mind. By depriving the body of any agency
through its summary equation with a machine and by overlooking the con-
ceptual implications of both the imagination and memory insofar as they
may provide models for embodiment, Descartes reduces the body to a mute
existence as a pure, material thing. Despite his insistence on the substantial
union of the mind with the body in the Meditations, his metaphysical
definition of the subject as a thinking thing will undermine his subsequent
efforts to reintegrate it within the material and technical fabric of the body.
The effort to think and situate the body and its relation to the mind would
require a theory of embodiment whose representational character would
imply the radical redefinition of both the body and the mind.
Insofar as the Meditations represent the metaphysical culmination of his
earlier elaborations of the body in the Treatise on Man and the Discourse,
they make explicit Descartes's progressive virtualization of the lived, expe-
riential body. Ranging from the anatomical schematization of the body
through the circulation of blood, to its technical reorganization as a
machine, and to its ultimate philosophical reduction to a material entity
devoid of all agency, the priority of the lived body and its experiential realm
are systematically eroded. As this study has shown, the elaboration of the
metaphysical framework of the Meditations relics not only on the progres-
sive erasure and dehumanization of the body, given its associations to error,
but also on its ultimate disappearance, insofar as it ceases to be essential to
the definition and existence of the thinking subject. Thus, it is precisely the
metaphysical framework of the Meditations that constitutes the decisive
obstacle toward the reintegration of the body into the Cartesian system.
If bodies, be they sleeping, mad, automatic or spectral, persistently haunt
the Meditations, their errant and elusive traces attest both to the erasure of
the experiential body and to its inevitable return in the guise of virtual and
spectral apparitions. Just as Plato's cave functioned as the allegorical appa-
ratus for the projection of truth, so does the body in Descartes's Meditations
function as a horizon and apparatus of projection that stages the elabora-
tion of rational subjectivity. Plato's effort to free truth from its simulacral
and deceptive semblances, those of shadows, phantoms, and reflections on
water, is echoed in Descartes's own attempt to free subjectivity from an
error by disengaging it from its deceptive semblances and errant appari-
tions. Thus, the virtual, spectral bodies that haunt the Meditations emerge
as the insistent traces and reminder of subjectivity as an embodied condi-
tion. For this condition to become not only explicit, but also philosophically
necessary and inevitable, will require the overturning of the Cartesian meta-
physical edifice and its subsequent legacies.?? As chapters 6 and 7 will
demonstrate, the development of French materialism in the eighteenth cen-
tury, as elaborated in the writings of La Mettrie and Sade, while appearing
to undermine the Cartesian mind-body dualism through a materialist reduc-
tion, will challenge but not overturn its authority. It is only later, in the writ-
ings Nietzsche and Merleau-Ponty, that the philosophical authority of the
body will be reclaimed as a necessary condition of a subjectivity reembed-
ded into the fabric of the world.
Chapter 5
Incorporations: Royal Power, or the Social
Body in Corneille's The Cid
The concurrent publication of the Discourse on Method (1637) with the

performance of Pierre Corneille's The Cid (1637) affords a special opportu-
nity for observing how seventeenth-century French culture represented and
understood the body. The Cid provides a literary counterpart to Rene
Descartes's anatomical and philosophical analysis of the body in the Dis-
course and thus enables a broader understanding of the cultural and social
context in which his ideas were elaborated. The play's ostensible concerns
with heroism and the competing demands of love and honor are staged in
terms of reflections on the body, documenting the submission of the physi-
cal body to the larger interests of the body politic, and they involve explicit
discussions regarding its social and political significance. 1 The literary rep-
resentations of the body in the play reflect a veritable obsession with blood,
its genealogical transmission and heroic expenditure, providing a social con-
text to Descartes's anatomical account of the circulation of blood.
Corneille's focus on the body is less physical than social, for the play
explores changes associated with the social and symbolic significance
attached to blood. Corneille's figurative fragmentation and reification of the
physical body in the service of an emergent notion of the body politic echoes
in social terms issues of objectification and instrumentalization implicitly
associated with the Cartesian virtualization of the body in its analogy to a
machine. These concerns internal to the play resonate in the extensive
debates surrounding its performance (the so-called Quarrel of The Cid),
thereby supplying us today with historic insights into the play's reception
and its anomalous use of figurative language to represent the body. Given
this literary and critical evidence, modern readers can begin to understand
how the body is conceived, the competing meanings attached to it, and the
dilemmas it poses for the broader cultural framework of seventeenth-cen-
tury French society.
In his "Judgement of The Cid," (1637) Charles Sorel draws attention to
Pierre CorneilIe's use of metaphorical figures (pointes) in The Cid. 2 Instead

of focusing on questions of genre, specifically CorneilIe's observation of the
classical theatrical rules of the three unities of place, action, and character,
Sorel comments on Corneille's anomalous use of blood, body, and valor as
interchangeable metaphors. He observes that blood is personified in the
play, through its endowment with subjective qualities such as thought,
speech, and writing. 3 Sorel's observations on Corneille's style, echoed by
other critics such as Georges de Scudery and Chapelain, demonstrate that
the objections against the play cannot be resumed as mere complaints of the
play's formal structure. They involve arguments about Corneille's inappro-
priate use of figurative language in regard to the body, and the inclusion of
juridical and economic terminology and discourse deemed unsuitable for
the context of the tragicomedy genre. 4
The problem for Sorel is that abstract notions such as valor are given
agency through personification, thereby creating unintended effects. Not
only does valor "speak," even after the death of the protagonist who incar-
nates it, but more surprisingly, the valor of the dead hero proceeds to "bor-
row" the voice of his daughter in order to make heard its demand for
revenge. The Corneillian passage central to Sorel's discussion is as follows:
Rather, his valour, now reduced so low,

Spoke to me through his wound, called for revenge.
And, to appeal to the most just of kings,
Borrowed by these unspeaking lips (triste bouche) my voice.
(Vv. 677-80)5
Taking the logic of the Corneillian text literally, Sorel satirizes its circuitous
representation and transformation of valor, since valor is no longer pre-
sented as being embodied by any particular person:
This valor, firstly, takes on a fantastic body, then it places itself at the open-
ing of this wound, it speaks through this hole and calls to Chimene; then the
author checks himself, and says, however, that this valor does not speak, but
uses the mouth of this wound in order to speak, and finally through this
mouth it [this valor] borrows the voice of Chimene. What detours! This dead
man, no longer able to speak, borrows the voice of his valor, his valor bor-
rows the mouth of his wound, and the wound borrows the voice of
Chimenc. 6
At issue here is more that a question of literary style and the use of figura-
tive language, involving the personification of blood, body parts, and
abstract values. Rather, Sorel's objections focus on Corneille's figurative
Incorporations • 111
language, his indiscriminate mixture at the metaphorical level of abstract

and concrete, organic and inorganic, and natural and social categories.
Sorel's parodic reading reveals the logical implications of Corneille's figura-
tive language, which assimilates values (man-made categories) to organic
metaphors in so exaggerated a fashion as to defy even the mortality of the
body. The scandal of valor as a ventriloquist free-agent, speaking through
the dead body, itself reduced to the status of a fantastic megaphone, only to
later borrow the body of Chimene to make itself heard, epitomizes a denial
of the natural character of the body as a proper and private entity. It seems
that the physical body is merely the vehicle for abstract values such as valor
or virtue, the expression of which exceeds its material limits and thus its
physical facticity whether alive or dead.
As the present analysis of The Cid will demonstrate, the scandal that
Sorel identifies in the play's figurative language represents more than mere
poetic or stylistic license. The figurative structure of The Cid will be exam-
ined as a symptom of the larger cultural and political forces at play in sev-
enteenth-century French society. The metaphorical fragmentation of the
body and its circulation and recuperation within the body politic indicate a
shift in the way the body is conceived both as a private and as a public
entity. Reflecting the consolidation and centralization of monarchic power
in the seventeenth-century France, begun under Cardinal Richelieu and later
followed through on by Mazarin, we see an emergent emphasis on social
identity and the recuperation of the individual as agent and instrument of
the state'? The figurative structure of the Corneillian text reflects this histor-
ical and social shift in its metaphorical representations of the body. As this
study will show, in The Cid the body's identity as a physical organism is
consistently violated by the indiscriminate exchange of bodily parts, which
are traded as currency in the service of personal glory or for the sake of the
king. This disarticulation of the body as a physical organism will coincide in
the play with its social reorganization and incorporation in the body politic
of a monarchy whose political economy inaugurates the emergence of the
a bsolutist state.
Jacques Ehrmann's seminal study of structures of exchange in Cinna has
brought to our attention the extent to which notions of obligation, gift,
prize, and exchange govern the language of Corneillian text. 8 The persistent
presence of concepts of exchange in the Corneillian theater will be consid-
ered as an index of the significance of social exchange, as the social body is
being restructured in relation to the emergence of a new, absolutist concept
of monarchy. Taking into account Serge Doubrovsky's dialectical analysis
of the Corneillian hero, it becomes clear that the concept of exchange that
governs the play cannot be viewed from a purely structural perspective, but
rather must be specified in order to account for the different kinds of bodily
and social exchange that function in the play.9 Although Doubrovsky
identifies in the play the trace of feudal aristocratic values, based on a sys-
tem of obligation that relies on individual prowess and physical force, this
study will show its paradoxical coexistence with a mercantile and emergent
bourgeois interpretation of value, since value is also presented as payment
and accrued interest from the husbanding of resources. In order to demon-
strate the coexistence of these apparently mutually exclusive systems of
value, this study will examine the circulation of blood, as a figure of social
exchange-that is, the fragmentation of the body and its artificial recupera-
tion in terms of its social function-as a means of explaining the constitu-
tion of royal power. The physical body in the Corneillian text no longer
functions as a microcosm of the state. 10 The prominence of blood, the cir-
culation of which demarcates the closure of the physical body and its reduc-
tion to an artificial mechanism, marks the emergence of a new concept of
statehood in which the law establishes principles of bonding and social
organization that replace blood bonds.
This transformation in the conception of blood is reflected in the Corneil-
lian hero's dilemma regarding the authentic character of his nobility. The
question of the political efficacy of heroic valor and its duration mirrors the
dilemma in the position of the king, whose power is marked by two com-
peting systems of social exchange. The king in The Cid is an absolute sub-
ject, whose position is assured through a process of nomination tied to his
issue from a princely, that is to say "divine," bloodline. But in addition to
being the symbolic guarantor of the collective social body of his subjects
through consanguinity, the king is also an individual who is subject to his-
torical and political pressures. I I Consequently, the king can maintain his
political power only through the economic management and expenditure of
heroic acts that will affirm his symbolic role-that is, to say his valor-as
interest accrued from the wise management of the bodies and blood of his
subjects.
Legible Blood versus Legible Bodies
The play opens with the question of how to judge valor within an aristo-
cratic system, where nobility is "naturally" inherited through consanguin-
ity, so that valor can be shared by two people of equal genealogical
descent. 12 The count (Don Gomes) attempts to make a choice between two
potential grooms for his daughter. He is unable to discern a legible distinc-

tion between the suitors, since their comparable social status undercuts the
effort to single out one of them as worthy. This dilemma is reflected in the
remark of the count, who attempts to read their eyes to divine their valor:
"They're young, but in their eyes already shines (mais qui font lire aisement
dans leurs yeux) / The glorious mettle (vertu) of their ancestors" (vv.
27-28). The count's inability to distinguish the particular merit of the two
contenders on the basis of genealogical descent and physical considerations
leads him to shift from nominal to historical considerations. Rather than
rely on the given name as guarantor of nobility, his judgment of the suitors
will also reflect the acquired heroic valor of the fathers, that is, their capac-
ity to make a name for themselves. Genealogical standing is thus enhanced
through the heroic valor that accrues to the hero's name.
The imposition of a performative criterion, that of making a name
through particular deeds instead of merely inheriting it, redefines the body's
legibility in terms of its social and political contribution. Valor ceases to be
consubstantial with the body; it can longer be genealogically inherited but
must be earned. The count chooses Don Rodrigue (Don Diegue's son) as his
daughter's groom because his perceived genealogical worth is increased by
the accrued value of his father's heroic acts. The son represents the embod-
iment of both his father's name (genealogy) and his social history (perfor-
mative acts). For the count, Don Diegue embodies a legible monument, one
that has engraved upon it the glories of its historical feats. He describes the
wrinkles on Don Diegue's forehead as the living trace of his past exploits,
which, despite the passage of time, "speak" to ldisentJ the count: "His feats
are graven on his wrinkled face / Which still reflects his might in former
times / The son may be what once his father was" [Ses rides sur son front
out grave ses exploits, / Et nous disent encore ce qu'il fut autrefois. / Je me
promets du fils ce que j'ai vu du pereJ (vv. 35-37). The body is presented as
the stage for historical acts, where the traces of past exploits give voice to
heroism as a performance in the present. History is written upon the body,
and its legibility in the act of interpreting its value enacts the speech of the
past, thus creating the illusion of the present. The father's past existence
thus becomes that of a "living" monument, legible in the present.
The count's affirmation of wrinkles as an unambiguous monumentaliz-
ing trace prompts Sorel to comment on their dubious legibility as absolute
proof of heroism: "these wrinkles that have graven Don Dieque's exploits
on his forehead, cause me to imagine that one sees in them the battles won,
and the positions taken and traced by the lines that make up the wrinkles:
as though those of a warrior and those of a laborer were very different."13
For Sorel, the figurative trace of heroism on the body cannot be interpreted
as an absolute sign of heroism, since this engraving on the body outlines the
natural passage of time, rather than individual heroic acts. The universality
of wrinkles among men, be they heroes or ordinary laborers, renders this
figure an inappropriate and even ridiculous embodiment of heroism. Sorel's
critique of Corneille's abuse of figurative language touches on the problem-
atic status of heroism in the play in relation to both language and history.
For Sorel, the legibility of the human body cannot be reduced to the abstrac-
tion of valor by becoming consubstantial with it, for the aging body's phys-
ical traits ill serve the effort to portray the embodiment of a heroic ideal.
The count's effort to interpret the heroic promise of his daughter'S suit-
ors is echoed by the subsequent dispute and duel between the two fathers,
Don Diegue and the count, regarding their own heroism. Paradoxically,
their quarrel takes place in the context of their potential union, that is, the
mixture of their blood through the marriage of their children. While Don
Diegue recognizes their comparable standing as heroes of equal stature, he
attempts to mark their hierarchical difference, since he has been awarded a
higher position in the king's administration. Don Diegue argues: "You are
today as great as once I was. / You see that nonetheless a king has drawn /
A certain difference between us two" (vv. 212-14). Although Don Diegue
recognizes the count's current valor, he understands the king's award of
governorship as a reward for his past valor. The count, on the other hand,
interprets the king's reward as a measure of his political fallibility, observ-
ing that "kings reward not (savellt mal payer) present services" (v. 160).
The count challenges Don Diegue's aristocratic ethos by suggesting that the
king's failure to reward or pay for services performed in the present may
endanger his political viability. For the count, the traditional system of aris-
tocratic exchange based on obligation that defers payments for the past into
the present represents a failure to reward valor in the present. As such, it
does not reward those who presently embody valor and who assure the pro-
tection of the state.
The debate between the two heroes regarding their heroism past and pre-
sent reflects different interpretations of valor as regards history and time.
When Don Diegue suggests that the story of his past life suffices to explain
to his son his present glory ("he / Need only read the story of my life" [v.
186]), the count responds, "Living examples are of much more power. / No
prince can learn his duty in a book" (vv. 191-92). The count's response
indicates that a prince cannot merely rely on recorded past history, since he
needs more than books (livres) to defend his present glory, in order to be
delivered (delivrer) of his enemies. When the recognition of his own valor is
Incorporations. 115
at issue, the count redefines his earlier position, since he views valor as an
objective embodiment in the present, rather than as a nostalgic category.
Although he was willing to "read" and thus infer Don Rodrigue's potential
heroism in the acts of the father, the father's aged body is dismissed as inca-
pable of bearing any longer the inscription of heroic activity.
The count's interpretation announces the emergence of a new system for
measuring valor, one whose terms are based on mercantile, rather than aris-
tocratic, categories. A worthy name and a heroic past do not guarantee
effective intervention in the present. The count underlines his position by
concluding: "If you were valiant, I am valiant still (aujourd'hui)" (v. 195).
The count challenges the king's interpretation of valor and thus his power,
since he feels unjustly excluded by this aristocratic system that favors tradi-
tion and thus past performance over heroic action in the present. In so
doing, the count challenges not merely Don Diegue's position within the
hierarchy, but also the principles of its function and its transmissability. His
insistence that his heroic acts be rewarded through present recognition
marks a reinterpretation of symbolic exchange in mercantile terms as direct
payment, as opposed to deferred reward in a gift-based economy. Thus,
despite its ostensible feudal appearance, the Corneillian ideology of power
also has a mercantile, even bourgeois character. Jean Starobinski observes:
"In the face of such an ideology, typically feudal in structure, Corneillian
psychology seems to define, in contrast, the attitude of the upper bour-
geoisie who make a name for themselves on the strength of their exploits
and of their service to the king and to France" (emphasis added).14 This
mercantile system of social exchange will compete with its earlier feudal
models in order to establish its own ascendancy.
Value and Systems of Social Exchange
As we have demonstrated, the quarrel that defines the play is hinged upon
two different, but concurrent, interpretations of valor. On the one hand,
valor is defined aristocratically as inherited through nomination and trans-
mitted through genealogy, so that the past symbolically informs the present.
On the other hand, valor is interpreted as a function of an act performed
and recognized in the present, so that past valor no longer serves as a mea-
sure of current worth. This interpretation of valor breaks with aristocratic
traditions, since it is no longer genealogically or nominally coextensive with
the past. The redefinition of heroism in performative terms affirms the coin-
cidence of valor with the exercise of immediate force, so that heroism is
revalued in terms of its pragmatic impact in the present, rather than its
deferred symbolic value. The immortality of heroism as an aristocratic sym-
bol is brought into conflict with pragmatic and utilitarian considerations
that subject it to the demands of history and time. This interpretation of
heroism reflects a new understanding of kingship, understood not merely in
divine terms, but also in worldly and thus political terms.
It is important to note, however, that this equation of heroism with pure
performativity, while mimicking traditional heroism, actually usurps the
traditional aristocratic concepts of genealogy and obligation. The self-
invented character of this new interpretation of valor is summarized in the
count's words, "And all alone ensure the victory" [ne devoir qu'a soi Ie gain
d'une bataille] (v. 183), and his conclusion, "Explain to him your lessons by
your deeds" (v. 184)]. The count sees himself as the executive political arm
of the king, and his own name as the rampart whose symbolic stronghold
preserves Castille. The king's power is represented as being mediated by the
count's actions, or in the count's words, "under my protecting arm" [a
l'ombre de mon bras] (v. 204). The count's demand for direct "payment"
for his services represents a transformation of the traditional aristocratic
structure of obligation, since the obligation of the noble to the king is no
longer conceived in symbolic terms involving retroactive or deferred pay-
ment. Thus, two competing interpretations of the value of heroism are at
work in the service of the king: the first representing traditional aristocratic
values, and the second representing the emergence of mercantile and bour-
geois values. These competing systems of exchange embody the paradox of
the king's symbolic role in the social system, reflecting his dual nature as a
"twinned person." The king's position is double: he is man by nature, sub-
ject to history, mortality, and the possible loss of power; but as the
genealogical inheritor of kingship, he represents divine rights, whose sym-
bolic character make him immortal. As the creator and guarantor of human
laws, kingship places him above those very laws of which he is the supposed
executor. IS
In order to settle the affront to his honor, Don Diegue places his quarrel
with the count in better hands, those of his son. Appealing to his genealog-
icallink with his son, he "borrows" his son's arm in the service of their com-
mon cause as a means of redressing the injustice done to their shared name
and to the heroic purity of their shared blood. Paternity enables the father
to overcome the physical limits of his body by appropriating his son's body,
as an extension of his own being. 16 The conceit upon which this communal
body is based involves the total erasure of the female body that mediates
paternity through its physical intervention. This can be clearly seen in Don
Diegue's exclamation: "Come, 0 my son! my blood!" (v. 266), as if the

shared blood with his son rendered them indistinguishable as separate per-
sons. This erasure of the distinction between persons marks decisively the
absence of the female body as mediating force. The legal claims of the phys-
ical body are elided by paternal claims of social reproduction. The
reification and fragmentation of the physical body in the play corresponds
to its reduction to a function in a system of social reproduction, where
paternal filiation mediated through nomination substitutes for the natural
attributes of the physical body.
It is important to note that it is the exclusion of the female body that
marks the coincidence of both the feudal and the mercantile systems of
social exchange. Both systems rely on a disenfranchisement of the female
body in favor of a symbolic, socially reproduced body, either through force
or through commodification. But this socially sanctioned body is no longer
identical with the physical body. This can be seen in Don Diegue's expedi-
ent solution to correcting the loss of the count through the heroic gains of
his son: "Come, follow me, to fight and show your king / What in the Count
he's lost, he's gained in you" (vv. 1099-1100). Don Diegue hopes to rec-
ompense the king's loss of the count through the deeds of his son, as if the
two were interchangeable bodies in his service without any particular iden-
tity. Identity is thus reduced to a function, privileging use value over an
aristocratic definition of value based on inherited value. Don Diegue's func-
tional solution must be understood as the logical extension of the patriar-
chal position that underlines both the feudal and the mercantile traditions.
The exclusion of the female body coincides with the more radical erasure of
the physical body in general. If Rodrigue can replace the count, it is because
the count's body has no meaning in and of itself, other than as the embodi-
ment of political exigencies.
The erasure of female body in the Corneillian text will lead to a crisis of
legitimacy in the later plays. As Anne Ubersfeld has shown, the denial of the
female body will prevent direct access to kingship and thus to the possibil-
ity of reintegrating the law and divine rightsY This crisis of legitimacy is
prefigured in Rodogune (1645), since Queen Cleopatra can reign only
through the mediation of men, who embody the political force of the state.
Her body as a queen, while the legitimate medium for the transmission of
royal power, does not represent an adequate symbolic substrate of political
power; hence her reign quickly becomes assimilated to tyranny. In the later
plays, such a Heraclius (1647), Nicomede (1651), and Sertorius (1662), the
queen represents a medium of legitimacy without power. She is, as Ubers-
feld observes in her analysis of Sertorius, "kings of names" [rois de noms],
that is, a nominal but powerless agency. IS The only power left to her is a
potential one, that of reinstituting legitimacy through heredity and thus
guaranteeing the reproduction of the monarchy.
The King, the Law, and the Social Body
The king interprets the duel between Don Diegue and the count as a chal-
lenge to his own absolute power. The independent use of force by the two
nobles threatens the law of the monarchy, since it raises the specter of ille-
gitimate and even tyrannical power. The king reminds the count, through
his spokesman Don Arias, that his legitimacy is above the circuitry of social
exchange, even if his actual power is established through human feats. To
serve the king is a matter of duty and not personal glory: "Whatever glori-
ous deeds a subject does, / These never put the monarch in his debt (Jamais
a son sujet un roi n'est redevable)" (v. 370). The king suggests that his obli-
gation to his subordinates is not reciprocal, since his duty is symbolic and
thus beyond direct measure and recompense. However, the count's perspec-
tive is that the scepter of the king would fall without the intervention of his
own arm, thereby underlining once again the impossibility of separating the
king's symbolic and political power. The conflict of power between the two
nobles, while embodying the paradox of the king's twin nature, also men-
aces its system of law and order.
The king recognizes the challenge posed by the count's interpretation and
redefinition of social exchange in mercantile terms. His vehement response
to the count's persistent desire to engage in a duel underlines the threat pre-
sented by the count's claims about heroism in relation to his own power:
Heavens! this overweening subject, then,

So lacks respect or eagerness to please
He slights Don Diego and he scorns his king.
Here in my court he even dictates to me (il me donne la loi).
He may be brave and a great general,
But I will take his haughty humour down.
Were he value itself (fa ualeur meme), and the god of war,
He'll see what it can mean, not to obey.
(Vv. 561-68)
As the giver of the law, the king questions the count's autonomy and his
efforts to impose his own laws, challenging as an individual subject the
king's unique position as absolute subject. The count's act of disobedience
in attempting to settle by force a dispute to which the king provided a diplo-

matic solution is perceived as a challenge to the king's legal authority as the
sole maker of new laws. The count's arrogant gesture infringes on the
divinely sanctioned authority of the king, for it affirms the triumph of nobil-
iary self-interest over the authority of the state.
The king values acts of individual glory in terms of their potential service
to the state, whose political economy cannot tolerate the gratuitous expen-
diture of its agents. 19 As the representative of the state, the king presents
himself as the preserver and manager of the blood and bodies of his subjects:
A king whose wisdom aims at better things

Is far more sparing of his subject's blood (meilleur menager du sang
de ses sujets).
I watch over my people, keep them safe (mes soucis les conservent),
As does the head the members serving it.
So what is right for you is wrong for me.
You speak as a soldier. I must act as a king .
. . . To slight my choice is to attack myself
And seek to weaken my authority (Ie pouvoir supreme).
(Vv. 595-606)
The king's analysis reveals his extraordinary standing in relation to his sub-
jects. His position is defined by prudence, not by force. As king, he is the
steward managing the blood and bodies of his subjects by conserving and
preserving them, even against their own private predilections. As the sym-
bolic head of the social body, the king views himself as its extension, its rea-
son. But his reason is not an ordinary one, since it is the reason of the state,
with him as its figurehead. Thus, the count's challenge to the king's reason
is not an ordinary gesture, as between one subject and another. It is, rather,
an attack on the king as supreme Subject, as the maker and giver of univer-
sal and divinely sanctioned laws to ordinary subjects.
In the play, the king's power is represented as great enough to challenge
and exceed human limits, such as death. When Chimene presents her plea of
vengeance for her dead father, the king appeals to his own immortality
through kingship, in order to suggest that he will take the place of her dead
father: "Your king will be your father in his stead" (v. 672). This symbolic
assurance to Chimene is intended to pacify her desire for vengeance, since
the king as the representative of the social body can substitute himself for
any of the missing parts. By taking on her legal tutelage, he cancels the
demand for Rodrigue's head and thus conserves his arm in his own service.
However, Chimene is not seeking protection from a substitute father, but
the vengeance of her real father. She refuses to accept the king's tutelage
unless its legality can be defined in terms of interpreting the king as both
father and executor of the law.
Femininity, Desire, and the Law
Chimene's demand for justice is expressed in legal terms that echo the king's
logic, in order to show that Rodrigue's victory against her father menaces
the very structure of the state. 20 Chimene's argument mediates between the
feudal and the mercantile systems of exchange, in order to show that
Rodrigue represents a danger to both. She creates an analogy between her
own vengeance, her demand for payment "blood for hlood"-an allusion to
the feudal system-and the threat that Rodrigue's heroism presents to the
power of the king and to that of the state within a mercantile system:
In short, my father's dead. Vengeance I cry

More in your interest (interet) than for my relief.
You suffer (perdez) by the death of such a man.
Avenge it by another's, blood for blood.
Sacrifice (lmmolez) not to me, but to your crown,
And to your greatness, to your person, Sire;
Sacrifice (lmmolez) to the welfare of the State
All that so great an outrage swells with pride.
(Vv. 689-96)
Chimene argues that by not punishing Rodrigue, the king will lose in terms
of all his interests, whether personal, symbolic, or political. If Rodrigue
must be sacrificed, this is because the Crown and its interests have already
been symbolically immolated. The private aspirations of the hero and his
use of illegitimate force represent a feudal perspective and are here pre-
sented as the challenge of potential tyranny to the order of the state. The
threat of tyranny that haunts Corneille's plays is embodied in this struggle
between nobility sanctioned by force, and the king whose power is assured
through divine rights. 21 Plays such as Horace (1640) and Cinna (1641) rep-
resent in explicit terms the danger that the heroic ethos and its individualis-
tic character present to the legitimate power of the state, since they chal-
lenge privileges of heredity by the use of political force.
Chimene's demands for justice are answered by the plea of Rodrigue's
father, Don Diegue, who claims that his son had merely lent him his hand
and that he, Don Diegue, is the true "head," the one worthy of punishment:
Incorporations. 121
"I am the head; he, Sire, is but the arm" (v. 724). In other words, the father
asks that his son be recognized as a mere instrument, as the extension of
their common incorporated feudal body. The problem is, however, that it is
exactly this feudal body and its principles of incorporation based on force
that present a menace to the modern state understood as a social body,
whose legal and administrative principles of incorporation exceed genealog-
ical bonds.
The scandal of this endless circulation of body parts is put to an end
when Rodrigue confronts Chimene and asks her to kill him in order to
avenge her father. He offends her by presenting his sword to her, which
Chimene perceives to be covered with the blood of her father and thus, fol-
lowing the implicit logic of the scene, to be tainted with her own blood. Don
Rodrigue's solution to Chimene's internal conflict between the competing
demands of filial and erotic love is to insist on the possibility of his own
elimination, in order to efface, as it were, the stains of her own blood on his
sword: "Plunge it in mine, / And thus efface the stain of your own blood"
[Plonge-le dans Ie mien / Et fais-lui perdre ainsi la teinture du tien] (vv.
863-64). This final mixture of the blood of the two protagonists in the act
of death performs a mock marriage that would settle the differences of their
delayed marriage. The erotic subtext of the play indicates the only possible
issue for reconciling social differences: either by shedding blood or by mar-
riage. 22 But the solution that marriage can provide by reconciling the differ-
ences between the demands of genealogy and those of personal history is not
available to the protagonists, since this is not a ceremony that they are free
to authorize and perform by themselves.
Rodrigue's recourse to a heroic ethos, that of a direct encounter and con-
frontation with Chimene, is challenged by Chimene's appeal to the law,
since she recognizes the mediated character of their social encounter. Her
use of legal terminology challenges the critical tradition that has sought to
feminize Chimene by describing her as a victim of passion.23 Chimene pre-
sents her claim as a case would be presented before a judge, thus countering
the illusory freedom of Rodrigue's heroic intervention that assimilates the
judge and the criminal: "1 wish to prosecute, not execute (je suis ta partie, et
non pas ton houreau). / Is it for me to lop your proffered head? (Si tu m'of-
fre ta tete, est-ce II moi de fa prendre?) / I must attack, you must defend
yourself. / I must obtain it from another's hand. I must pursue you but not
punish you" (vv. 940-43}.24 Chimene's reminder to Rodrigue that her quar-
rel is of a juridical, rather than personal, nature defers any immediate solu-
tion. Their quarrel is of a symbolic order, involving the principle of the law
and thus not open to heroic intervention. Chimene's reply to Rodrigue'S
challenge represents her denial of force as a socially valid principle. She

refuses to assume the position of executioner that would bring her within
the very order and logic of heroism within which she has already suffered
the loss of her father, and which now threatens her with a new loss, that of
her lover.
Chimene's solution involves neither the denunciation of the patriarchal
system nor the refusal to participate in it. Rather, she attempts to maintain
the law and its symbolic order and thus contain legally Rodrigue's heroic
force-based ethos. Her refusal to kill Rodrigue can also be seen as an
implicit critique of a heroic order founded on force, within which the claims
of her own body have been excluded. Chimene's appeal to justice in the play
will only be recognized because her drama echoes the king's own dilemma
regarding the conflict between a no biliary heroic ethos and the authority of
the state. Her use of juridical terms reflects the very principles that govern
the king's administrative stewardship, that of upholding the abstract legiti-
macy of the law over the political forces at play within society.
Residues of the Body: Death
Since the public appreciation of Rodrigue's valor is also the vivid reminder
and living emblem of her father's death, Chimene is not free to forget her
quarrel with her lover. The reality of her father's death is not an abstract
fact, since it is tangibly inscribed upon her own body:
If he's enslaved two kings, he's killed the Count [my father],
And these sad garments which proclaim my woe
Are the first outcome of his gallantry [valor] (valeur).
Elsewhere this lionheart may be extolled;
Everything here speaks to me of his crime.
(Vv. 1130-34)
The objective reality of her father's death, which corresponds to her own
physical appearance marked by mourning, makes it impossible to erase his
death by abstractly incorporating him in a system of exchange that would
trade him for Rodrigue'S valor. Chimene cannot accept Infanta's suggestion
that her father is resuscitated, as it were, through Rodrigue's heroic perfor-
mance: "Your father lives again in him alone" [Que ton pere en lui seul se
voit ressuscite] (v. 1180). Her father cannot be reborn as another person and,
particularly, not in the guise of his assassin. The attempts on the parts of the
king and the infanta to appeal to the welfare of the state in order to console
Chimcne for the loss of her father demonstrate the challenge that the body of
the dead father and its remembrance pose for the well-being of the state.
Chimene's refusal to allow the incorporation of her father's body into the
social body of the state, by recognizing that his heroic traits are now embod-
ied by Rodrigue, indicates her persistence in ensuring his recognition. She
continues to affirm her father's individual existence and rights before the
law. It is interesting to note that the question of the claims of the count's
dead body are echoed by Corneille's own dilemma as author, as he attempts
to justify his elision of extensive references to the funeral and other ceremo-
nial treatments of the dead body in the play. In his "Examen du 'Cid'"
(1660), he elaborates the logistical difficulties of alluding to the count's dead
body, since such references make the possible marriage of Chimene and
Rodrigue at the end of the play seem implausible:
The funeral of the Count was still a very burdensome matter, be it carried out
before the end of the play, or be it that the body remained present in the
palace, awaiting someone to put it in order. The least word that I were to let
fall of it would have broken the heat of attention, and would have filled the
spectator with this cumbersome notion. And I believed it more appropriate
to hide it from the imagination by my silence ... ; I finish with a remark on
what Horace said, that that which one exposes to sight touches much more
than that which one only learns of through a tale. 25
However, the scandal that the dead body poses for Corneille is not merely
one of maintaining, through silence, a plausible ending for the play. Rather,
the residual presence of the body challenges the very logic that seeks to
incorporate the body within the state apparatus and thereby silence its for-
mer existence and legal claims. Corneille's quote from Horace, affirming the
precedence of sight over story, and thus the precedence of present over past
performances, is ironically a reiteration of the count's valorization of per-
formative over narrative representations of heroism. Corneille thus doubly
silences the claims of the physical body. He first excludes it from the stage,
the scene of the representation, and then he elides it again by attempting to
silence its legal claims. This double erasure of the count's dead body enables
Corneille to perform on stage its subsequent incorporation within the inter-
ests of the state, as symbolized by the marriage of Chimene and Rodrigue.
The Economy of Absolutism
The name" Leviathan" is only too significant of this monster of a state.

-F. A. Lange
Rodrigue's subsequent victory over the Moors leads to the resolution of the
crisis between the feudal and mercantile interpretations of heroism. By his
victory over two pagan kings, Rodrigue establishes himself in a new relation
to the king and acquires a new identity, a new name, the Cid, a name that
unlike Rodrigue is no longer associated with crime. The king's summation
renders this explicit: "The Moors in flight have carried off his crime" [Les
Mores en fuyant ant emporte son crime] (v. 1414). The king represents
crime in physical, rather than legal terms, so that it can be "objectively"
removed and replaced by valor, as if it were a physical object, rather than a
legal entity. The removal of the count's legal claims through Rodrigue's vic-
tory over the king's enemies indicates the priority of the legal claims of the
state over the rights of any private subject. Moreover, it signals the eco-
nomic reinscription of the body, which, having no intrinsic value in and of
itself, can now be traded for the higher values represented by those of an
incorporated state.
By battling the Moors, Rodrigue/the Cid establishes himself as a new
kind of agent, one whose valor exceeds the domain of the king's compensa-
tion. Through his victory over two pagan kings, the Cid becomes the head
of a new system of merit and exchange. Within this new system, Rodrigue,
alias the Cid, has been named and thus legally recognized by two pagan
kings as their supreme leader. By bringing the pagan kings within the gov-
ernance of his own king, the Cid marks the affirmation of his own subjec-
tion to the order of the state. Rodrigue's submission of his own victory to
the king, which he brings within the dominion of the king proper, is recog-
nized by the king as a gesture that has legal consequences:
But your reward (recompense) comes from two captive kings.

They've named you both in front of me the Cid.
Since in their tongue Cid is as much as lord,
I'll not begrudge you this fair title. Be
Henceforth the Cid. Sweep all before you. Fill
Granada and Toledo with affright,
And let it show (marque) to all beneath my sway
Both what you are and what lowe to you (Et ce que tu me vaux, et ce
que je te dais).
(Vv. 1221-28)
By acknowledging the legal claims of the captive kings, the king recognizes
Rodriguelthe Cid's new legal position, which is at once within his own juris-
diction and also outside of it. Whereas Rodrigue has committed a crime, the
victorious Cid is a hero; that is, he has become a "new" person, despite the
fact that he shares the same body with the criminal. Rodrigue'S new name,
the Cid, or "Sire," from the Arabic el Sayyid, no longer designates him
merely as an individual, but also indicates his newly acquired social stand-
ing. Rodriguelthe Cid's divided social and legal status, which echoes the
king's own position as a "twinned person," enables the king to recover the
Cid's victory and his body as interest or surplus value in the economy of his
royal organization and power. The king's recognition of the Cid's heroism is
not merely a sign of generosity, but the sign of the recognition of the politi-
cal and historical contingencies of kingship. Although the Cid's heroism
exceeds the sphere of his social body, the king is able to incorporate and pre-
serve this excess within his own economy of obligation and power. The legal
differences between the king and Rodrigue/the Cid are resolved through this
appeal to a new referential system. As the Cid, Rodrigue can no longer be
held legally accountable to the king, since he is also now a king in his own
right, and thus free to dispose of his power over the bodies of his subjects.
The king's legalistic solution, which upholds the interests of the state,
does not resolve the moral claims of the two protagonists, Chimene and
Rodrigue, since they must continue to argue and uphold their personal
duties and valor. Chimene persists in her demand for justice, since she con-
siders Rodrigue's death to be the only appropriate punishment for murder.
Although she recognizes Rodrigue's value to the state, she insists on the
validity of her own legal position by asking for his death for her father:
"And for my father, not the fatherland" (v. 1365). Rodrigue must be pun-
ished for his crime, so that he may not triumph over crime in the same way
that he triumphed over his enemies. Chimene's call for justice is reinforced
by Rodrigue's own father, who is afraid that the king's refusal to judge
Rodrigue may tarnish his glory (v. 1421). When he insists that the law be
observed, "What! Sire, for him alone you flout (renversez) your laws" (v.
1415), his appeal is based on recourse to heroic, rather than to legal codes.
Rather than attempt to mitigate the crime of his son in court, he would like
him to defend it by force in a duel. Don Diegue's appeal to a heroic solution
marks the shift in his political position. His speech represents his partiality
for his own interests, which he now upholds, like the count before him,
above the interests of state.
Having proven his valor to the state, Rodrigue offers to uphold his duty
to his love by sacrificing himself to it. He once again offers to be sacrificed
by Chimene, even if this sacrifice must be mediated through the hands of his
rival. He tells Chimene, "I shall, in fighting him, lay bare my breast, / Rever-
ing in his hand your instrument (Adorant de sa main La votre qui me perd) "
(vv. 1499-1500). By offering his body to Chimene to be immolated by Don
Sanche's hand, Rodrigue attempts to distinguish between his love for his
country and his love for Chimene. In so doing, he seeks to resolve the imp os-
sible difference produced by competing demands-of his honor and of his

love-upon his body, "Preferring still in his enamored heart, / Honour to his
beloved and her to life" [Preferant quelque espoir qu'eut son arne asservie, /
Son honneur a Chimene, et Chimene a sa viel (vv. 1541-42).
But Rodrigue's proposal to a solution mediated through the hands of
Don Sanche is also unacceptable, for Chimene recognizes that she would be
objectified as the prize awarded to the victor. Rodrigue's appeal to a mer-
cantile ethos, where value is generated through exchange, does not struc-
turally alter her position. When she urges that Rodrigue fight and even that
he fight to win her, she is not merely expressing her passion, as the critical
discussions of Corneille would have us believe. Rather than the pure expres-
sion of affect, Chimene's gesture represents her refusal to be objectified and
traded within systems of both feudal and mercantile exchange. This is
because such a gesture would imply a double sacrifice: in addition to giving
up her love, she would also be given away by her lover to his rival, "to a
man whom I abhor" [a l'objet de mon aversion] (v. 1552). In so doing, she
would betray both her love and her honor, unlike Infanta, who earlier in the
play gives away Rodrigue to Chimene in exchange for her personal glory,
"This youthful knight whom I bestowed on her" [cet amant que je donne]
(vv. 82-83).
The end of the play resolves the differences that divide Chimene and
Rodrigue. The king upholds the legality of the marriage of Chimene and
Rodrigue, noting that Chimene has been freed by her obligation to her
father by having upheld her call to justice over her own passion: "Honour's
redeemed and duty is discharged (Ta gloire est degagee, et ton devoir est
quitte). / Your father's satisfied. He is avenged / By hazarding Rodrigo's life
so oft" (vv. 1766-68). Chimene recognizes that she now must submit to the
law whose very terms violate the obligation that she owes to her father. Her
response to the king projects her own internal differences onto him, by ques-
tioning how the king can accommodate within his legal structure such irrec-
oncilable differences:
And when a king commands, I must obey.

But whatsoever was your sentence, Sire,
Can you allow this marriage and look on?
And when you call on duty to submit,
Does all your injustice harmonize with that?
Rodrigo is a pillar of the State (a !'etat devient si necessaire),
But must I be the wages (salaire) of his deeds?
Must I incur for ever the reproach
Of having stained hands in a father's blood?
(Vv. 1804-12)
Chimene's question to the king addresses the fundamental dilemma of the

play: the impossibility of recognizing at the same time the exigencies and
values of two different systems of social exchange. However, by placing her-
self in the hands of the king, Chimene places her personal difference in the
public domain. The scandal of her personal demand for justice now
becomes a scandal within the law, one that the king must reconcile within
his order without destroying it.
The king's decision to defer the marriage of Chimene and Rodriguelthe
Cid as a means of reconciling their differences brings into the playa new
dimension, that of time. The introduction of time through the postpone-
ment of the marriage to the following year functions as the legal recognition
of Chimene's personal claims, but also as the sign of the transcendent logic
of the state:
Time has repeatedly legitimized

What seemed at first could not be innocent (sans crime).
Rodrigo won you (t'as gagnee), and you must be his.
But, though you are the prize of valor, I
Would have to be your glory'S enemy
To grant the fruits (Ie prix) of victory at once.
Deferment (hymen differe) still accords with my decree
Which destines you, at no fixed time, to him.
(Vv. 1813-20)
The king asserts his power in the play by introducing an element not avail-
able to any of its players, that of the symbolic power of duration. The king,
whose position is guaranteed in time, will now invoke temporality to legiti-
mate differences that cannot be resolved in the present. Whereas at the
beginning of the play, the conflict between the count and Don Diegue
showed that heroic acts in the past cannot be effective if they cannot be per-
formed again in the present, the king's invocation of time demonstrates the
transcendence of kingship over the limited duration that defines the bodies
of his subjects. Heroes may live or die, but their existence depends on the
existence of the monarch as guarantor of the state. Even when the king dies,
kingship lives on.
The king's statement at the end the play marks the coincidence between
time, valor, and kingship: "Leave it to time, your valiance and your king"
[Laisse faire Ie temps, ta vaillance et ton roil (v. 1840). The legitimacy of
time mediated through kingship challenges the legality of crime and erases
its performative character. The deferral of the marriage, authorized by the
king, resolves the differences between individual subjects and their tempo-
rality, construed as a pure present. With the passage of time, the crime loses
its "legibility." After the prescribed period of mourning there will be no

physical traces that attest to its legitimacy. By exercising his power not
merely as the executor of the law, but also as the manager of his own repre-
sentation and thus of the duration implicit in his authority, the king is able
to conserve both his political efficacy and his symbolic position. Although
subject to history, the king upholds his power, available to him through his
title, to use time as a representation in order to consolidate his rule in an
even more absolute sense. The original difference that marks the represen-
tation of the king as a "twinned person" has now been recuperated to his
advantage, since this difference marks the possibility of a deferral, that is,
the king's recovery of his political fallibility within a system of power, more
absolute than originally made possible by the traditional definition of king-
ship.
The emergence of this concept of absolute monarchy corresponds, as we
have shown, to the redefinition of the body as a social entity subject to laws
of mercantilistic exchange. In Corneille's The Cid, the body reduced to its
social function becomes objectified and reduced to currency. This reduction
of the body to its use value corresponds to its assimilation within the order
of an administrative and economic system of exchange. The legitimacy of
the body is thus subsumed within its social function, so that it can be polit-
ically saved or expended according to the law and beyond the intervention
of contingent individual forces. The submission of the body to a set of rules
that governs its administration independent from it leads to the redefinition
of its organic character. As this study has shown, the body is reinterpreted
in the Corneillian text, so that it no longer signifies the physical body, but
the artificial and socially constructed body of the state, that of the body
politic.
Within this system of social exchange, the body ceases to possess indi-
vidual meaning and value, since its social commodification recoups its indi-
viduality in the survive of a larger symbolic order. As this study has shown,
its reduction to its social functions, whose norms are governed by the state
apparatus, results in its figurative mutilation. In his study of the body in the
seventeenth century, Francis Barker argues that the decorporealization of
the body and its subjection are tied to the emergence of an absolutist con-
cept of the subject:
The mastery of the body in which subjectivity is predicated by these texts by
no means depends wholly on the violent decorporealization of the flesh, but
also on the equally aggressive solidification of the object-body and of the
practical knowledges-discourses-which attend to its philosophical status,
its psychic and physical administration, the organization of its sexuality and
the definition of its gender. Even if that solidification is abstractly coded as

analytic, diagnostic, diagrammatic, conceptuat.2 6
Although less immediately concerned with the incorporation of private bod-

ies into the state apparatus, Barker's remarks underline the fundamental
tendencies that this study has isolated in the Corneillian text. They indicate
the paradoxical coexistence of a process of decorporealization of the body,
with the redefinition of its solidity within the bonds and disciplines of the
state, as an incorporated social body. This schematization of the body
redefines corporeality in terms of the practices of its social administration,
rather than as an expression of individual subjectivity,27
The most striking analogy to Corneille's redefinition of the body in social
terms can be found in the writings of his English contemporary, Thomas
Hobbes. In Leviathan (1650), Hobbes describes man as a mechanism and
the state as an artificial mechanism that embodies to a higher degree the
principles of incorporation that the individual body possesses in only a lim-
ited fashion. In his introductory passage, Hobbes develops his definition of
the state by redefining the organic character of the body in social terms that
are equated with artificiality:
Nature, the art whereby God hath made and governs the world, is by the art
of man, as in many other things, so in this also imitated, that it can make an
artificial animal. For seeing life is but a motion of limbs, the beginning
whereof is in some principal part within; why may we not say that all
automata ... have an artificial life? ... For by art is created that great
LEVIATHAN called a COMMONWEALTH, or STATE, in Latin CIVITAS, which is but
an artificial man. 28
Although Hobbes proceeds to enumerate the functions of the state by anal-

ogy to those of the body, it is clear that the principle of organicity that gov-
erns the social body represents the literal "commonwealth," that is to say,
the total workings of its "corporate" rather than "corporeal" character. If
the state represents "artificial man," this supreme automaton is clearly supe-
rior to ordinary man, who is merely a cog in the state mechanism. The prin-
ciple of incorporation of the state, the "commonwealth," presents the
inscription of a system of exchange whose power is located beyond actual
physical limits of the individual body and its internal system of circulation,
its "blood." The incorporated body reflects the imprint of social and eco-
nomic principles that open up its sphere of power toward political and
administrative efficacy. This technologization of the social body suggests
that royal power can also be understood in mercantile terms, as the accrued
interest of wealth from the totality of the "commonwealth."
If Louis XIV was an ardent admirer of Corneille's works, we can now

begin to understand why. The lesson of The Cid is that the power of the
absolute monarch lies in the ability to understand that all representation,
including the body, is artificially produced. By manipulating the mecha-
nisms of representation, the king can conflate the aristocratic and mercan-
tile systems of exchange for the effective management of the social body.
The surplus power available at the disposal of the absolute monarch is the
result of the recognition of the uniqueness of his position as a sovereign
guarantor of the totality of the social order. The exchange and the circula-
tion of individual bodies within this symbolic order involve economic effects
that exceed, because of their totality, particular individual interests. The
king's power comprehends individual rights, only to exceed them, since he
embodies both the legal and executive powers of the state. Consequently,
the king can expend or economize the social body and thus control its sym-
bolic order and expenditure. The emergence of absolute monarchy involves
the recognition that value is both inherited and earned, and that the "true"
body is not the physical body, but the socially viable body incorporated in
the ideology of the state. This redefinition of the social body in the context
of the absolutist state thus announces the paradoxical coexistence of royal
absolutism with an emergent mercantile ideology. The coincidence of these
seemingly disparate historical ideologies is visible in their interpretation of
power as interest, whose function as capital is reified by and economized
through representation. Along the way, the physical, corporeal body has
lost its meaning, since its viability is defined solely in terms of its virtual, but
no less powerful or tangible, social manifestations. The organicity of the
physical body thus gives way to its social organization, and the common-
wealth subordinates the logic of the organism. It is this sublation of the
physical body into a rational system of laws governing its administration
that marks the peculiar convergence of the Cartesian and the Corneillian
project. Although operating with entirely different agendas, since Descartes's
concerns are scientific and philosophical, while Corneille's are social and
political, their representation of the body reflects a common repression of the
flesh in favor of an abstracted body, one whose purely schematic character
can be recuperated in the desiccated organizational logic of a machine, or the
incorporated and depersonalized logic of the state apparatus. Thus instru-
mentalized and reified, the physical body is reduced to abjection. Its obdurate
persistence, however, serves to remind us still of a subjectivity once under-
stood as an embodied condition.
Part 3
Materialist Machines
Chapter 6
Men-Machines
Man is a historical idea and not a natural species.

-Merleau-Ponry
Does the cogito have a sex? This question might appear to be absurd or at
best irrelevant, given that the discussion of the Cartesian cogito in chapter 3
established the disembodiment of subjectivity and the virtualization of the
body by its reduction to a machine. If the question of sexuality and sexual
difference appears to be moot in regard to Cartesian subjectivity, this is
because the metaphysical definition of the subject as a thinking thing (res
cogitans) and the concomitant reduction of the body to a material and
extended thing (res extensa) radically exclude the question of embodiment.
Although Descartes attempted later in the Meditations to argue the formal
union of these two substances, insofar as they mutually inform human func-
tions, the meaning of their union remained unintelligible. 1 This radical dis-
junction implicit in the Cartesian mind-body dualism, which posits the
autonomy of mind and body as distinct substances, makes it difficult to raise
the question of sexual difference as a subjective, rather than as a purely
material, phenomenon. For the reduction of the body to matter, governed
by mechanical laws, restricts the purview of embodiment and of sexuality,
as one of its signatory manifestations, to purely material and physiological
considerations.
How then are we to think the notion of sexual difference within the
material confines of the Cartesian definition of the body? More troubling
still is the question of the relation of sexual difference to the notion of onto-
logical difference that underlies Cartesian dualism and its elaboration of
subjectivity. In the pages that follow, this troubled and confusing legacy of
the Cartesian conception of the body is at issue, in terms that seek to clarify
both its decisive influence and the difficulties encountered in challenging it.
Starting with an examination of La Mettrie's expansion of the Cartesian
mechanistic account from the body to man as a whole, this study then pro-
ceeds in chapter 7 to inquire into Sade's violent and parodic representations
of sexuality. While relying on La Mettrie's materialist and mechanist

assumptions of man and nature, Sade will challenge the definition of the
body, sexuality, and sexual difference, through violent parodies that under-
mine both the premises of rational thought and the logic of representation.
Discussing the legacy of the Cartesian metaphysical dualism to the devel-
opment of French materialism in the eighteenth century, Aram Vartanian
underlines its paradoxical effects:
By the distinction of two substances, res cogitans and res extensa, not only
idealism was provided with a firm foundation: matter was raised to a revolu-
tionary status by comparison to its former position at the rock-bottom of
Aristotle's scheme of entelechy.2
In order to argue for the emergence of a double philosophical legacy, he

takes as a point of departure Descartes's dualism with regards to the funda-
mental distinction between the subject defined as a thinking substance and
the body defined as matter and extension. The first tradition, idealist and
transcendental in character, will be founded from within the sphere of a
subjectivity defined in purely rational terms, whereas the second, built on
the substantialization of the body as material fact, will further the develop-
ment of materialism. These two traditions imply two different scenarios for
understanding the body, embodiment, and sexual difference.
The idealist account of rational subjectivity precludes both the body and
embodiment from its purview, since it seeks to define thought alone as the
universal foundation of subjectivity and humanity. The Cartesian equation
of subjectivity with pure reason defines the emergence of the subject of
knowledge, whose universal, impersonal, and thus neutered character
becomes the condition of possibility for the existence of all other ordinary
subjects in the world. This neutering of the rational, universal subject is
echoed in Fran~ois Poullain de la Barre's pronouncement, "The mind has no
sex," in The Equality of the Sexes {De l'egalite de deux sexes: Discours
physique et moral] (1673).3 It is this universal subject that becomes in the
eighteenth century the basis for the emergence of "man" as a generic cate-
gory, whose supposed gender-free or neutered universality is intended to
reference humanity as a whole. 4 However, it is precisely these transcenden-
tal claims associated with subjectivity that also entail the objectification and
even abjection of the body, its enforced materiality as a manipulable,
mechanical, and even disposable thing. Within this definition of subjectivity
becomes perceptible an entirely new way of constituting human agency as
an expression of thought alone, while the body is forcefully disenfranchised
of the ability to act, since its materiality can neither inform nor act upon the
Men-Machines· 135
mind. This disengagement of agency from the horizon of the body has
significant consequences, insofar as it suggests its passive submission to a
higher rational order that governs both its construction and functions.
Although Descartes's attempted to defend himself against his contempo-
raries' objections to the materialist implications of his definition of the
body, based on his account of the body as extended matter, his efforts
proved to be unsuccessful. The very fact that he sought to redefine the soul
in purely rational terms (thereby extricating it from Scholastic antecedents
that included, in addition, a sensitive and vegetative soul, that is, embodied
notions of soul) established the effective disembodiment of the subject and
led to the decisive removal of all spiritual aspects from its material sphere.
According to Vartanian, this gesture inadvertently accomplished not only
the decisive substantialization of matter but, more importantly, its elevation
to a new and unprecedented status within an ontological order that had
privileged the mind. Descartes's subsequent elaborations on the mechanical
character of the material body, his analogy between animals and machines
(betes-machines), and the implicit analogy between the human body and a
machine further contributed to materialist appropriations of his philosophy.
Moreover, his insistence on explaining the functions of the body in terms of
mechanical principles implies ascribing to its organization aspects that
define it as an organism as a whole. Given this material and mechanical
definition of the body, the question of embodiment, particularly as it per-
tains to sexual difference, becomes problematic to the extent that it reduces
the horizon of sexuality to purely material concerns. It is this danger that
becomes explicit in La Mettrie's and Sade's materialist interpretations of
Cartesianism, since the substantialization of the body in terms of matter
governed by mechanical laws forecloses an understanding of sexuality out-
side the deterministic sphere of physical phenomena and laws. s
A Materialist Critique of the Mind-Body Dualism
We cannot separate thought from a matter that thinks.

-Hobbes
The rise in eighteenth-century France of materialism, a set of doctrines con-

cerning nature and the world that affirm the primacy of matter, attests to
the legacy of Cartesian physics, particularly as regards its mechanist and
automatist account of the human body.6 This influence is most visible in
Julien Offray de La Mettrie's Man-Machine (L'homme-machine, 1748), a
pioneering work that presents a consistently materialistic account of man
and that proved to be instrumental in the development of naturalistic biol-

ogy in the eighteenth century? It is important to note that in Man-Machine,
La Mettrie is not content to restrict his materialist position to a discussion
of the human body. Rather, this materialist thesis will be extended to nature
as a whole in order to challenge the transcendental and theological founda-
tions of the Cartesian edifice. S
La Mettrie introduces his treatise with a discussion of the systems of phi-
losophy governing the understanding of man's soul, reducing them to two
major traditions: materialism (the more ancient) and spiritualism. Alluding
to John Locke's claim that matter might manifest the faculty of thinking
(though he finds this formulation to be poorly expressed), he is quick to
affirm that such a claim does not dishonor reason per se. La Mettrie dis-
misses the Leibnizians and their notion of preestablished harmony, which
merely "spiritualized matter, rather than materializing the soul,"9 and
attacks the Malebrancheans for their doctrine of occasional causes that per-
petuates the Cartesian idea that "man consists of two distinct substances, as
though they had seen and counted them" (MM, 64). La Mettrie's agenda
soon becomes clear: the materialization of the soul, since the excellence of
reason does not depend on its immateriality (MM, 65), and the denial of the
mind-body dualism through the affirmation of a material substance whose
organization and laws would apply equally to the mind and the body,
thereby acquiescing to the possibility of a "soul of mud" (MM, 65).
Reaffirming the validity of scientific method based on experience and
observation, La Mettrie reclaims the rights of the physician-philosopher to
truly inquire into the nature of man and reveal "man's springs hidden under
coverings" (MM, 66). Rather than falling prey to the anxiety that Descartes
expresses in the Second Meditation, his mistaking "hats and coats which
may cover automatic machines" (HR, 1:155) for men, La Mettrie assumes
man's mechanical essence as a given. His inquiry inverts the Cartesian order
of argumentation by starting with an examination of the mechanics of the
body, only to subsequently address the issue of the soul:
Man is a machine so complicated that it is impossible at first to form a clear
idea of it, and, consequently to describe it. This is why all the investigations
the greatest philosophers have made a priori, that is by wanting to take flight
with the wings of the mind, have been in vain. Only a posteriori, by unravel-
ling the soul as one pulls out the guts of the body, can one, I do not say dis-
cover with clarity what the nature of man is, but rather attain the highest
degree of probability possible on the subject. (MM, 66)
In this passage, La Mettrie makes a decisive leap from Descartes's animal-
machines to state that man is a machine, so complicated in its workings as
Men-Machines • 137
to defy efforts to form either a clear idea of it or to describe it. He then sug-
gests that it is this very complexity that led philosophers to establish the a
priori condition of the mind. La Mettrie, however, insists that the question
of the soul must follow (a posteriori), rather than precede in a foundational
sense an inquiry into the nature of man. Radically undermining previous
theological precedents, he also suggests that the understanding of the soul
must be situated in the same material and mechanical order as the body,
enjoying no greater privilege than any other bodily organ. By observing that
one unravels the soul as one pulls out the guts of the body, La Mettrie chal-
lenges its metaphysical priority as guarantor of certitude and clarity and set-
tles instead for a probable understanding of man's nature.
Aiming pointed barbs at the Cartesian idealization of the mind at the
expense of the body, La Mettrie perversely dismisses Descartes's hypotheti-
cal denial of the body through the rhetorical evocation of madness in the
First Meditation (HR, 1:145), equating this rhetorical position with a state-
ment of belief: "Why should I dwell on those who think their noses or other
members are made of glass?" (MM, 68). His analysis abounds in examples
that seek to relodge the soul within the body, from allusions to hysteria and
hypochondria, to more ordinary instances such as sleep, when the soul and
the body fall asleep together (MM, 68). Using the same examples as
Descartes did in the Meditations to argue the priority and superiority of the
soul, he redeploys their logic so as to claim the interdependence of the body
and the soul within the organism of man defined as a machine: "The blood
circulates too fast? The soul cannot sleep. The soul is agitated? The blood
cannot calm down" (MM, 69). This material co-dependence of the body
and the soul is further emphasized by his insistence on the role of food as the
material substance that fuels and sustains the soul, thus elucidating the
body's nature as a "self-winding machine" (MM, 70).
In order to demonstrate that the states of the soul always correlate to
those of the body, La Mettrie appeals to the evidence provided by compar-
ative anatomy. Noting the structural similarities, except for differences in
size, between man's brain and those of animals, he attempts to bridge the
Cartesian chasm between animal-machines and man-machine by establish-
ing their shared material and mechanical organization. In so doing, La Met-
trie challenges one of the fundamental tenets of the Cartesian philosophical
and theological system. Descartes's definition of animals as machines devoid
of conscious feeling and thought is founded on the privileged uniqueness of
the rational human soul, as well as its purported immortality. It is this meta-
physical interpretation of automatism that La Mettrie usurps by recuperat-
ing a notion of automatism based on mechanical causes that applies to all
animate beings, thereby rendering the differences between man and animals
a matter of degree and not a foundational or a constitutive difference. Given
the great resemblance of man to apes, La Mettrie even raises the question of
their possible education: "Why could not an ape through careful effort com-
municate with sign language just as the deaf?" (MM, 76). This latter ques-
tion directly challenges the Cartesian interpretation of man as an entity that
defines its very humanity through its symbolic capacity of manipulating and
deploying signs. His suggestion that apes may be educated to meaningfully
use signs by training through games or exercise usurps the cognitive prerog-
ative previously reserved solely to designate the human.
La Mettrie emphasizes the material and embodied nature of human
knowledge insofar as it implies the exchange of signs, where "words are the
arbitrary signs" (MM, 79). This definition of knowledge is aimed not only
at redefining cognitive materials, but more importantly at redefining cogni-
tion itself in material, rather than purely conceptual, terms:
All that learning whose wind inflates the balloon-brains of our pedants is
nothing more than a vast accumulation of words and figures which impress
on our brains all those traces by which we distinguish and recall objects ....
Words and figures designated by them [ideas] are so tied together in the brain
that one rarely imagines something without thinking of its name or sign. I
always say imagine because I believe that everything can be imagined, and
that all the parts of the soul can be reduced to imagination alone. Imagina-
tion constitutes them all. (MM, 81)
Once again, La Mettrie's observations take Descartes's metaphysical edifice

to task, especially as regards his efforts in the Meditations to isolate con-
ception as an expression of reason, which, unlike the imagination, is not
caught up with bodily forms. It is also important to recall that Descartes
described the imagination as a faculty of the body and not of the spirit, pre-
cisely because of its involvement with figurative and visible forms. La Met-
trie's claim that everything can be imagined and that the soul can be reduced
to the imagination alone reintroduces the material and physical dimension
that Descartes previously excluded in order to argue for the embodied char-
acter of both the soul and human knowledge in the machine. His conclusion
that all parts of the soul can be reduced to imagination alone enables him to
regroup judgment, reason, and memory as its constitutive parts. La Met-
trie's attempt to integrate these faculties in the soul under the aegis of the
imagination undermines Descartes's previous efforts to distinguish among
them when he privileged judgment and reason alone as the condition of the
understanding. Reason was defined as a conception independent of material
Men-Machines. 139
constraints, as opposed to the imagination and memory, whose exclusion

from rational subjectivity reflected their dependence on corporeal nature.
For La Mettrie, judgment, reason, and memory are parts of the soul
understood as a physical and material entity, insofar as they are "real
modifications of that medullar canvas onto which objects painted from the
eye are projected as from a magic lantern" (MM, 81). If these faculties are
indissociable from the imagination, this is because they share with it the
same organic and material base, that of the "medullar canvas," as well as
reflect in their various modifications the sensible and material reality of the
external world. Attributing his privilege of the imagination to the organiza-
tion of the human brain, La Mettrie concludes his critique of Descartes by
questioning the very division of the mind in terms of a rational and sensitive
principle: "But if such is the marvelous and incomprehensible result of the
organization of the brain, if imagination explains everything, and if every-
thing is conceived by it, why do we divide the sensitive principle that thinks
in man's mind?" (MM, 81). His insistence on the organization of the brain
explains in material terms the particular powers of explanation and concep-
tion that define the imagination. The imagination becomes that "sensitive
principle that thinks in man's mind," that is to say, a principle whose intrin-
sic material and embodied nature precludes further distinctions. In other
words, it is precisely the "sensitive" nature of the imagination, its indivisi-
bility from the material world, that defies the efforts of any further philo-
sophical reduction, such as earlier encountered in the "advocates of the sim-
plicity of the mind" (81; i.e., Descartes and his followers). Mocking the use
of terms such as spirituality and immateriality, La Mettrie attempts to over-
come the Cartesian metaphysical legacy.
La Mettrie details the cognitive functions of the imagination by specify-
ing its perceptual and representational powers:
But it is still true that only the imagination perceives; the imagination repre-
sents all objects with the word and figures that characterize them; and, thus
again, the imagination is the soul since it plays all the roles. Thanks to the
flattering paintbrush of the imagination, the cold skeleton of reason takes on
rosy, living flesh. (MM, 82)
Rather than denouncing the deceptive and incarnate character of the imag-
ination, as did Descartes, La Mettrie locates both perception and represen-
tation among its functions, along with reason and judgment. Both percep-
tion and representation involve a materially concrete, rather than a purely
abstract, engagement with the world. His privileging of the imagination
thus reflects a recognition of its embodied character, insofar as the knowl-
edge it acquires or purveys involves either the body (sensation) or material

signs (representations) that embody its understanding of the world. La Met-
trie's privileging of the imagination recalls Montaigne's emphasis on this all-
important faculty (Essays, III, 13: 833 ).10 By arguing, however, that the
imagination is the soul, since "it plays all the roles," La Mettrie underlines
its versatility to both embody and represent diverse forms of knowledge. It
is through the imagination that reason becomes incarnate, both perceptible
and representable: "the cold skeleton of reason takes on rosy, living flesh."
The abstract nature of Cartesian ideas is recast by the "paintbrush of the
imagination" into tangible representations. La Mettrie thus accords to the
faculty of the imagination a philosophical priority and authority that is new
compared to its subordinate position in Descartes due to its associations
with the body. However, by declaring the imagination to be the "soul," La
Mettrie reverses key terms in the Cartesian philosophical edifice without
necessarily overturning the dualist logic that subtends them.
The task of the imagination, according to La Mettrie, is not only to
"paint nature," but to "measure" it by noticing the relations among these
representations: "Just as it cannot enjoy the pleasures of the senses without
experiencing their voluptuous perfection, the imagination could not reflect
on its mechanically conceived ideas unless it were identical with judgement
itself" (MM, 82). This passage posits the experience of sensation and the
pleasures associated with it as deriving solely from "mechanically conceived
ideas" in order to suggest the imagination's reflective capacities to form
judgments, rather than merely generating representations. At issue, how-
ever, is neither La Mettrie's attempt to bring judgment within the purview
of the imagination nor his effort to rehabilitate the senses by insisting on
their pleasurable effects. More notable is the fact that he attributes this
experience of pleasure by the imagination to "mechanically conceived
ideas," thereby redefining its nature as one that involves purely material and
mechanical concerns. It is important to recall, in this context, that Mon-
taigne's praise for the powers of imagination derived from its ability to
mediate and make desire tangible as embodied forms (III, 13: 833). Its
capacity for embodiment was not represented as a function of the search for
knowledge, nor of the understanding, but as a way of expressing the power
of desire to attain material semblance. Desire as a major motivating force of
the imagination is entirely absent in La Mettrie's argument, precisely
because its consideration would challenge the deterministic confines of his
materialist and mechanical system.
While La Mettrie will go on to equate the imagination with the highest
intellectual achievements, contending that it can be "elevated by art to the
Men-Machines. 141
lofty and rare dignity of genius" (MM, 84), this revalorization fails to
spell out its precise modes of operation. It will be the task of education to
give free reign to or to restrain what La Mettrie calls the "lively springs of
the imagination" (85), in order for individuals to attain either artistic or
scientific (and philosophical) development. His argument regarding imag-
ination as a source of genius is innovative insofar as it attributes a
common source to intellectual development in both arts and sciences.
Moreover, it suggests the shared affinity between poetic and scientific
knowledge. La Mettrie's position is symptomatic of the rise of a new con-
cept of intelligence in the eighteenth century, a concept that no longer
privileges reason, but rather celebrates its powers under the aegis of the
imagination and the multiplicity of forms that it may take, since it "easily
embraces an astonishing host of objects" (MM, 84).1 1 By celebrating the
imagination and the multitude of forms it embodies, La Mettrie redefines
the powers of intellect in terms of its material engagements with the
world. However, this affirmation of imagination as the figure for human
intellect takes place within a rational horizon that excludes considerations
of desire.
Having emphasized the material dimensions of the intellect, La Mettrie
will continue to argue for the material and organizational continuity
between men and animals: "Man is not molded out of more precious clay
than they. Nature employed the same dough for both man and animals,
varying only the leaven" (MM, 90). His refusal to recognize any material
distinctions between the two leads him to reaffirm that "organization is
therefore sufficient to explain everything" (98). Insisting on the organiza-
tion of man as a machine that simply disposes of a few more cogs and
springs than animals, he refuses to explain aspects pertaining to man in
terms that rely on previous philosophical or religious traditions. For
instance, he will argue that the soul is simply an empty word to which no
idea corresponds, and that it should be invoked only to name the part of the
brain that thinks (MM, 98, 103), leading him to conclude: "Thus, the soul
is only a principle of movement or sensible material part of the brain, which
one can regard as the machine's principal spring without fear of being mis-
taken" (MM, 105). The soul is presented here as a principle of movement
lodged in the sensible material part of the brain and thus implicit and inher-
ent in its physical organization. Its former religious and philosophical
autonomy and authority as a purely spiritual and immaterial agent are dis-
missed with no further consideration of the implications of assigning to
material organization properties heretofore reserved to subjectivity and the
definition of the human.
Sex and the Logic of the Machine
To be a machine, to feel, think, know good from evil.

-La Mettrie
Pursuing the analogy between the human body and the machine, La Mettrie
compares its complexity to an "immense clock," constructed with so much
artifice and skill that if particular parts of the mechanism break down, they
by no means endanger its abilities to function as a whole (MM, 110). How-
ever, La Mettrie is not content to restrict this mechanical analogy to the
body, as Descartes had done, but uses it as a way of describing man as a
whole. This gesture has extremely significant consequences, since it seeks to
reinscribe the entire horizon of the human within the logic of the machine.
La Mettrie elaborates his analogy of man to the machine by introducing into
its mechanical operations conscious feeling, thought, and even moral
reflection:
To be a machine, to feel, think, know good from evil like blue from yellow,
in a word to be born with intelligence and a sure instinct for morality, and
yet to be only an animal, are things no more contradictory than to be an ape
or a parrot and know how to find sexual pleasure. And, since the occasion
presents itself for saying so, who would have ever divined a priori that shoot-
ing off a gob of sperm during copulation would make one feel such divine
pleasure, and that from it would be born a tiny creature who one day, fol-
lowing certain laws, would enjoy similar delights? (MM, 112)
All human functions, ranging from sensation to thought, and including the
capacity to make moral distinctions, are posited as an extension of mechan-
ical principles relocating the human within the realm of automatism and
mechanical determinism. Regardless of their degree of complexity, these
diverse functions that cover the gamut from perceptual to intellectual activ-
ities are assimilated indiscriminately to a mechanical order whose laws
apply to both human and animal behavior.
In the passage ahove, however, La Mettrie is not merely content to state
the mechanical character of perceptual and intellectual functions, but goes
on to suggest that their logic is of the same order as the sexual behavior of
animals. The introduction of sexuality at this point functions as yet another
example of the overlap between human and animal bodily organization and
behavior. However, this appeal to sexuality is particularly surprising, since
it is difficult to understand how sexuality would reference the reality of the
machine. For it is precisely sexuality and procreation that were invoked to
distinguish inanimate machines from animate beings. It is useful in this con-
Men-Machines. 143
text to recall Voltaire's ironic comment that clocks do not make little clocks.
The incapacity of an inanimate machine to create other machines of a com-
plexity and nature equal to itself is answered by La Mettrie through the
mechanization of both sexuality and its procreative functions in all animate
beings. By introducing "sex" into its workings, La Mettrie seeks to embody
the machine as both a gendered and generative device. 12
La Mettrie introduces sexuality within the purview of the machine by
insisting on its purely material and mechanical nature in both men and ani-
mals. Sexuality and its "divine pleasures" are linked reductively to the
mechanics of the animate body, its shooting of a gob of sperm. Sexual plea-
sure is represented as the mere effect of mechanical forces whose expression
is contained within a system of material causality. Thus sexuality ceases to
reflect an encounter between subjects, since their mechanical coupling
attests to the mere performance of a logic inherent in the organizational
blueprint of the machine. Both desire and the potential role played by the
imagination, insofar as they have an impact on both the physical and the
imaginary status of bodies in the context of human sexuality, are entirely
left out of his discussion. Thus La Mettrie's efforts to "sex" the machine
only result in the mechanization of sexuality itself, by reducing it to a purely
organic and physical function that neither reflects nor has any bearing on
the subjective makeup of man as distinguished from animals.
To speak about man, in this context, is no accident, since La Mettrie's
focus is entirely on ejaculation and the male sexual functions and pleasure. 13
Although he does not broach the notion of sexual difference explicitly, his
subsequent discussion regarding the animated nature of the male sperm and
the supposed vegetative nature of female egg into which it plants itself and
which provides its food suggests a very specific gender hierarchy. The
anatomical difference between the sexes is analyzed by emphasizing the
active nature of male sperm, leading La Mettrie to question the actual con-
tribution and participation of the female egg: "For example, so rarely do
male and female seeds make contact in sexual congress that I am tempted to
think that the female seed is unnecessary for generation" (MM, 114).14
Although he recognizes the sometime resemblance of children to the father
or the mother, this physical evidence that attests to the "intercourse between
the parts," does not prevent him from reiterating his prior conviction:
On the other hand, why let the lack of an explanation rule out a fact? It
seems to me that the male does all the work, both in a woman fast asleep as
well as in the most lustful woman. From the beginning, then, the disposition
of body parts comes from the male seed or tiny worm. (MM, 114)
Despite the concrete evidence of heredity attesting to the passage of both

masculine and feminine traits, La Mettrie persists in maintaining the privi-
lege of male sexuality as a generative and engendering principle. While the
active and generative principle of human sexuality is ascribed to the mascu-
line component, the female component is minimized to the point where its
very existence and contribution comes into doubt. This is not altogether sur-
prising, given that La Mettrie's mechanical description of nature valorizes
motion in order to account for the generative and transformative aspects of
matter. Although La Mettrie's analogy of man to a machine initially appears
to exclude gender considerations, his efforts to embody the machine by pro-
viding an account of its sexual and procreative functions reinscribes the
notion of sexual difference and the hierarchy of the sexes in his materialist
system. La Mettrie's putative universalist account of sexuality based on
mechanical and material causes is in fact male gendered, insofar as it claims
the priority of both male orgasm and the male sperm as the fundamental
features for biological generation.
Having outlined some of the most salient features of La Mettrie's materi-
alism and his equation of man to a machine, it is important to consider
whether the challenge that he extends to the Cartesian mind-body dualism
is sufficient to overturn its rational order, particularly as regards its impact
on his elaboration of sexual difference. Critics of Cartesian rationalism,
such as Karl Stern and Susan Bordo, have described its legacy in terms of the
"masculinization of thought." lS For Stern, this notion of masculinization
reflects the disembodiment of the Cartesian rational subject and thus the
exclusion of embodiment from the purview of subjectivity: "Man is made
flesh-less, as it were, and the Incarnation as the pivotal point of history
becomes a meaningless myth." 16 Both man and nature cease to function
within the horizon of incarnation, of a becoming whose character is irre-
ducible to a purely mechanical causality. For Bordo, on the other hand,
Cartesianism implies both the transcendence of the body, as chief impedi-
ment to objectivity, and the consequent diremption of the natural world
from the human: "The dichotomy between the spiritual and the corporeal
also established the utter diremption of the natural world from the
human." 17 This diremption reflects both the rational subject's dispossession
of its human character and the concurrent objectification of nature operated
through its material reduction.
Descartes's objectification of nature as res extensa ("totally devoid of
mind and thought") implies its subjection to rational subjects, whose stated
ambition is to become "masters and possessors of nature." The equation of
objective knowledge with mastery over nature inscribes knowledge within a
Men-Machines. 145
dynamics of power inflected with gender overtones. This mechanical inter-

pretation of nature not only overthrows what Carolyn Merchant called an
"organic cosmology," where nature's generative powers are equated with
female principles, but also restricts nature within a framework where the
discovery of its mechanical laws coincides with its submission to a rational
order. 18 Thus, while manifestly beyond gender, the Cartesian cogito and the
representational order that sustains it evoke sexual difference not as an
expression of the body, but as the expression of the power relations foun-
dationally latent within representation.
The legacy of the Cartesian ontological blueprint proves to be extremely
significant to La Mettrie's efforts to bring back the human in the guise of a
machine within the framework of a natural world defined in materialist and
mechanist terms. While at first sight La Mettrie's "materialistic monism,"
which rejects the soul's distinctness from the body by redefining it as some-
thing implicit in organized matter, appears to replace Cartesian dualism, the
question lingers as to whether his gesture succeeds in overturning the Carte-
sian ontological blueprint. 19 As the preceding analysis of Man-Machine sug-
gests, the valorization of matter as a foundational term does not undermine
the Cartesian diremption of the human from nature. The shift from dualism
to a materialistic monism does not reverse the initial hierarchy of these
terms, insofar as the reduction of nature to materialist and mechanist prin-
ciples follows out of Descartes's original reduction of the body to a
machine. La Mettrie's attempt to grant to the laws of nature the universal
status formerly ascribed to the rational mind only reinforces the fact that
their material and mechanical character reflects an objectification of nature
based on the privilege accorded to the scientific method. 20 Even though La
Mettrie attempts to materialize reason by defining it within the purview of
the imagination, this effort to reframe it by no means impacts on its method-
ical application and stated goal to attain scientific knowledge through
"clear-sighted penetration" (MM, 86).21
La Mettrie's efforts to redefine man as a machine imply the impossibility
of recovering a notion of embodiment as other than a function of mechani-
cal principles. These mechanical principles subordinate all subjective
expression to the deterministic logic of the machine. Embodiment emerges
in this context as a function not of an organism, but of its material organi-
zation. Thus the logic of embodiment is institutionalized within the abstract
rational and mechanical laws that govern the material foundation and
administration of the body. Embodiment thus emerges as a feature of nature
understood as a rational order, whose material and mechanical laws virtu-
ally configure the materialization of the body. Within this material frame-
work, sexuality references not the organic body but a mechanical device,
since embodiment merely attests to its material organization and submission
to a rational order. La Mettrie's mechanical reduction of sexuality also
objectifies human behavior, thereby simply expanding Descartes's original
analogy of the body and the machine by generalizing it as universal law.
While neutralizing the differences that separate man from machines, by
assimilating the logic of their behavior to common material and mechanical
laws, this eradication of difference that erodes mind-body dualism does not
ultimately challenge the broader meaning of ontological difference under-
stood as a rational and representational order. Hence it is not surprising
that when La Mettrie evokes the notion of sexual difference in the context
of his embodiment of the machine, its manifestations suggest the reinstate-
ment of power relations and differences proper to the rational and repre-
sentational order that subtends his mechanist account. The logic of sexual
difference thus still remains within the horizon of ontological difference,
thereby revealing the fundamental difficulty of thinking about embodiment
as long as the machine functions as the determining horizon for the being of
humans, animals, and nature as a whole.
The questions and problems raised by La Mettrie's materialist and mech-
anist interpretations of man and nature come to a head in the marquis de
Sade's works, with their violent, perverse, and even criminal interpretations
of sexuality. In the pages that follow, Sade's own engagement with materi-
alism will be at issue. The exaggerated violence that Sade unleashes on the
body of his novelistic protagonists will be examined as a function of both
the mechanical reduction of the body and his efforts to undermine the very
premises that underlie rational thought. Resorting to a strategy of both lit-
erary and philosophical parody, he will radically destabilize the generic and
gender-referential aspects of classical discourse and thus challenge the very
limits of representation. Attempting to destroy both notions of sexual and
ontological difference, Sade will make manifest the violence and relations of
power implicit in the Cartesian legacy-that of the technologization of man
and nature. But this face-to-face encounter of thought with its limits, while
radically challenging the Cartesian metaphysical legacy, will not succeed in
restoring to the body either its corporeality or its capacity for agency.
Chapter 7
Sex at the Limits of Representation
The real is the impossible.

-Jacques Lacan
The impossible is literature.

-Georges Bataille
"It is necessary," wrote Baudelaire, "to keep coming back to Sade, again
and again." 1 Baudelaire's injunction has been quite prophetic, since con-
temporary critics continue to return to Sade in order to assess his contribu-
tion to modernity. D. A. F. de Sade's novelistic work has been interpreted by
critics since Bataille as a literature of transgression. 2 However, the limits
that the Sa dean text challenges are not those of sexuality alone. Rather,
through his exhaustive exposition of sexuality, Sade succeeds in expanding
its meaning to include not only perverse and even criminal modes of activ-
ity, but also to challenge all moral referents and thus fundamentally alter the
very definition of the limits of thought.
As Michel Foucault suggests in "A Preface to Transgression," Sade's
transgressive gesture posits through the language of sexuality an ontological
and theological challenge to man's definition of and relation to God:
From the moment that Sade delivered its first words and marked out, in a sin-
gle discourse, the boundaries of what suddenly became its kingdom, the lan-
guage of sexuality has lifted us into the night where God is absent, where all
our actions are addressed to this absence in a profanation which at once
identifies it, dissipates it, exhausts itself in it, and restores it to the empty
purity of its tra nsgression. 3
Sade's extensive exploration of the boundaries of sexuality is interpreted by

Foucault as the prototype of all transgressive gestures, since it stages the
challenge of the limits of philosophy and religion. Based on Georges Bataille
and Pierre Klossowski, Foucault's interpretation of the role of sexuality
underlines the liminal character of Sadean thought, presenting him as the
closure of classical, representation-based thought. Foucault suggests that
Sadean discourse is the last discourse that undertakes "representation," that

is to say, defines its order through an exhaustive nomenclature and totaliz-
ing categorization. 4
However, the encyclopedic character of representation in Sade's work in
fact threatens, through its excessive display, to foreclose and thus to destroy
the boundaries of classical representation. The question thus arises whether
it is sufficient or even adequate to classify Sade's novelistic and philosophi-
cal works in terms of "transgression." This study will show that while
embodying the principles of the Enlightenment, the search for totalizing cat-
egories and a universal order, Sade's representation of reason and humanity
is in fact a parody of the ideology of the Enlightenment. His ostensible ency-
clopedic ambition to "say everything" and to "show everything" results
both in the saturation of the classical order of representation and in its
actual violation, through the production of an excess that challenges the
notion of order itself. Everything that up to Sade constitutes the exterior of
reason-evil, crime, monstrosity, and sexual perversion-is brought within
its domain, thereby redefining the positive connotations that his contempo-
raries associated with reason. The very premises of eighteenth-century
thought are systematically exposed and debased by Sade, so that the under-
pinnings of its logical foundations are pitted through parody against them-
selves. Sade's work thus emerges less as a literature of scandal than as the
scandal of literature, insofar as his reflections on representation embody and
stage the confrontation of thought with its limits. Sade's demythologization
of reason as the substratum of representation involves, as this study will
show, the violent expansion of its logical and systematic properties, so that
thought itself becomes the figurative victim of the excesses of literary and
philosophical parody.
The Misfortunes of Literature
I state and affirm that I have never written any immoral books,
and that I never shall.
-Sade
In his Reflections on the Novel, Sa de defines the novel (roman) as follows:

"We give the name 'novel' to any work of imagination fashioned from the
most uncommon adventures which men experience in the course of their
lives."5 Despite the somewhat Aristotelian tone of this pronouncement,
which had been previously applied to the mechanisms of tragedy intended
Sex at the Limits of Representation. 149
to evoke fear and pity, Sade's comments later in his pamphlet indicate that
this statement should be taken "literally." That is to say, that Sade's novels
will deal with adventures so uncommon that their implausibility will
threaten the very definition of the novel. In the Poetics, Aristotle designates
misfortune as an accident inspired by a character flaw or weakness (hamar-
tia), intended to inspire sympathy and catharsis;6 whereas for Sade, misfor-
tune becomes a rule in and of itself-an ultimate challenge to any possible
identification on the part of the reader. Since vice will reap the rewards of
virtue, the process of identification with the character in a cathartic sense is
precluded. The Sadean antinovel thus presents its reader with a paradox.
On the one hand, these works refuse mimesis as a principle of imitation and
identification that guides the reader's relation to the text. On the other
hand, the Sadean antinovel will rely on a new concept of imitation. Rather
than pretending to copy reality, his novels parody the very conventions that
structure novelistic reality.
This strategy for appealing to identification on the part of the reader,
while simultaneously rejecting mimetic conventions, can be seen in Sade's
warning to his readers. Attacking other authors who make "vice seem
attractive," Sade explains in Reflections on the Novel that the violence of his
novelistic representations excludes all possible identification:
I have no wish to make vice seem attractive. Unlike Crebillon and Dorat, I
have not set myself the dangerous goal of enticing women to love characters
who deceive them; on the contrary, I want them to loathe these characters.
'Tis the only way one can avoid being duped by them. And, in order to suc-
ceed in that purpose, I painted that hero who treads the path of vice with fea-
tures so frightful that they will most assuredly not inspire either pity or love.
In so doing, I dare say I am become more moral than those who believe they
have licence to embellish them.?
Sade's works defy the reader's expectations since they refuse claims that rely
on the traditional conception of the novel as a vehicle for imitation and as a
model for truth. While Sade recognizes that the moral referent of classical
novels is merely a subterfuge for presenting images that violate it, his con-
demnation, however, cannot be construed literally as a moral claim.
Although Sade suggests that he is "more moral" than his contemporaries,
his ostensible "moral" intention is immediately put into question by his dis-
claimer at the end of the essay that he is the author of the scandalous Jus-
tine. By challenging his own authenticity as the author of Justine, Sade par-
odies any simplistic inference regarding the authoritative and direct
referential relation of the author and his text. His comment at the end of his
treatise on the novel brackets the question of the identity of the author and
reduces it to a parody of the authorial persona.
Sade's parody of his own authorial persona is made explicit in an attack
on one of the critics of his Crimes of Love, Villeterque. Sade brutally
admonishes his critic by accusing him of falsely identifying the author with
the fictional characters:
Loathsome ignoramus: have you not yet learned that every character in any
dramatic work must employ a language in keeping with his character, and
that, when he does, 'tis the fictional character who is speaking and not the
author? and that, in such an instance, 'tis indeed common that the character
inspired by the role he is playing, says things completely contrary to what the
author may say when he himself is speaking?8
Sade's critique of Villeterque as a bad reader, who persists in conflating

author and character, exposes the myth that underlies literature as a mirror
of the identity of the author. Rather than interpreting the author as a naive
referent for the literary work, Sade suggests that the author himself may be
nothing more than a fictional character, that is, an invention or a conven-
tion through which the literary work is made intelligible. He taunts Vil-
leterque by flaunting the one thing that he and his characters agree about:
Ah, Monsieur Villeterque, what a fool you are! This is one truth concerning
which both I and my characters will always be in complete agreement when-
ever we have the occasion to exchange views regarding your prosaic exis-
tence. Y
By affirming his explicit complicity with his fictional characters, Sade under-
lines his refusal to be simply assimilated to his work. In so doing, Sade dis-
rupts the mimetic relation between the author and the work, by having his
characters mime him as comical mouthpieces that reiterate his putative
claims. By both disengaging himself from his characters and by enlisting
their support, through a perverse play with the notion of mimesis, Sade suc-
ceeds in distinguishing himself from what he calls Villeterque's "mirror-
authors." 10 Sade's attack on Villeterque and his camp of "mirror" authors
represents his own complex position as a parodist, who uses imitation only
to destroy it as a category that has any referential relation to "reality." His
response does not merely address Villeterque, but functions as a warning to
all future critics who will naively persist in identifying him with his charac-
ters, and who will search for clues of his authorial identity by identifying the
author with the literary work.
In The Misfortunes of Virtue, Sade systematically enacts his critique of
the classical novel through strategies that disrupt identification with both
Sex at the Limits of Representation • 151
mimetic and moral referents. In the preface, Sade forewarns the reader that
the aim of the novel is to depict the misfortunes of virtue, rather than its
rewards. By suspending moral claims, Sade challenges the limits of novelis-
tic verisimilitude and plausibility. The Misfortunes of Virtue presents the
reader with an implausible plot: that of the relentless, exaggerated, and car-
icatural description of the heroine's misfortunes. The heroine, Justine/
Sophie, who can hardly be called such since she is nothing more than a com-
pendium of banal moral maxims, is shown suffering from her unsuccessful
attempts to reconcile her own beliefs and her worldly experiences. Her mis-
fortunes are profoundly literary: they represent a classical discourse, a dis-
course of normative morality and good faith, and its violation through its
explosive encounters and clashes with other types of discourse, representing
various noble, scientific, religious, and mercantile institutions.
The discomfiture of the reader in the face of the erotic victimization of
the heroine takes on a surreal, almost dreamlike character. As Blanchot has
noted, Sade's eroticism paradoxically derives its brutal reality and exagger-
ated freedom from its fictional nature: "Sade's eroticism is a dream eroti-
cism, since it expresses itself exclusively in fiction; but the more this eroti-
cism is imagined, the more it requires a fiction from which dream is
excluded, a fiction wherein debauchery can be enacted and lived." 11 Blan-
chot's observation regarding the deliberate fictional staging of eroticism in
Sade's novels is helpful toward elucidating the reader's complicitous rela-
tion to fiction. The paradox, as Blanchot suggests, is that Sa de uses fiction
in such an exaggerated fashion as to challenge its limits and consequently to
abolish through fiction the reader's sense of novelistic reality.
The reader's effort to identify with the protagonists of the novel is
thwarted from the novel's inception. The Misfortunes of Virtue introduces
two heroines, the sisters Juliette and Justine, who are remarkably different.
Each represents in caricature the obverse of the other. Juliette is the charac-
ter who though virtuous in her beliefs learns that virtue has no real currency
in the social world. She sells the physical equivalent of her virtue many times
over, thereby parodying and debasing it as counterfeit money. She considers
virtue to be a mere sign, a convention that can be traded in the social
domain in order to generate power, pleasure, and security. Her activities
document her remarkable education from victim to master and passage
from pleasure to crime, since her behavior shuns both the notion of social
contract and that of a universal moral referent.
At the other end of the spectrum, Justine represents the epitome of virtue,
a virtue that is so proud of itself that it invites violation. The reader is
trapped, since s/he cannot identify with either character without a sense of
moral complicity with one of two unacceptable sides-vice or virtue. This

problem is exacerbated by the fact that although the story focuses entirely
on the misfortunes of Justine (alias, virtue) the character is further removed
from the reader through a linguistic displacement. Justine'S real name is
Sophie (wisdom, in Greek), a name all the more ironic since the heroine dis-
plays her magnificent virtue very unwisely, inviting violation and destruc-
tion. By upholding compulsively an ideal standard of behavior, Justine/
Sophie invites transgression. The desiring structure of the text is constituted
around the adventures of virtue, the narration of its consistent violation.
The reader is thus freed from identification with the discourse of victimiza-
tion and made aware of the complicity involved in the act of reading.
Justine's encounter with Bressac in The Misfortunes of Virtue emblema-
tizes hoth her status as erotic victim and the reader's complicitous position
as victim of novelistic conventions. 12 Hidden behind a bush, the heroine
witnesses the verbal and physical exchanges between the aristocrat Bressac
and his valet. Doubling the position of the reader, as a female voyeur, Jus-
tine discovers that the act of witnessing the discourse and act of sodomy
involves complicity. Despite her sense of moral condemnation, she is liter-
ally drawn into the scene (like the reader); having been discovered by Bres-
sac, she is tied to a tree and menaced with flagellation and sodomy. Thus
from the very beginnings of the novel, Sade demonstrates that there can be
no exterior or privileged position for Sophie, or for that matter the reader,
as a voyeur. Having been literally "drawn" into the scene, both Justine and
the reader discover that they risk being physically marked by this experi-
ence. By identifying with the heroine, the reader becomes a victim as well,
since the act of reading governed by the mimetic relation of reader and text
implies the risk of heing marked by the punitive logic of the text. The phys-
ical violence unleashed by the text is thus directed not merely toward the
heroine, but also to the traditional conventions that govern the classical
novel. In other words, the reader may discover, like Justine, that the act of
representation involves an inescapable complicity.
The consistent violence unleashed upon the body of the heroine becomes
the index of a violence endemic to classical representation in general. The
act of marking Justine's body, through sexual, perverse, and punitive acts,
traces upon the body the script of the social and political ideology that the
heroine consciously attempts to contain through her virtue. Just as charac-
ters such as Bressac and Du Buisson attempt to stamp their own demystified
social ideology upon their victim, their inability to mark her ideas will cul-
minate in Justine's body being branded falsely as a thief. This unjust pun-
ishment, however, is logically consistent with the heroine's structural posi-

tion, since her victimization is due to her unconscious assimilation of popu-
lar ideology, her metaphorical "thievery" of a popular ideal of virtue. As an
unconscious exponent of popular ideology, Justine refuses to reflect on or
learn from her misadventures and thus to recognize the imprint of compet-
ing ideologies. This refusal to examine the social and physical implications
of ideology leads to the increasingly violent tone of the novel as it attempts
to literalize ideology and thus implicate an unwitting Justine in more
heinous crimes such as murder and arson. Notwithstanding the heroine's
ostensible innocence, her observance of virtue becomes the site of violence
against the other, since its unreflected nature can be manipulated as an
instrument of destruction of both the heroine herself and other protagonists.
Passing from the position of spectator to that of unsuspecting actor, Justine
is shown to be playing the role of the victim whose very innocence becomes
complicitous with crime.
The trajectory of the unfortunate adventures of the heroine Justine (alias
Sophie) involves successive encounters with several types of institutions: a
noble or feudal model (Bressac); a scientific or experimental model (Rodin);
a Christian religious model (the convent Sainte-Marie des Bois); and at the
end, a false double of the noble and mercantile model (Dalville's chateau),
which simulates the codes of both institutions in order to function as a "fac-
tory" for the production of false currency. Marcel Henaff has shown that
the economy of Sadean libertinage is a consumer economy that operates by
reference to these three major models-feudal, monastic, and mercantile. 13
However, each of these social institutions has ceased to function in a tradi-
tional sense. Neither the castle, nor the monastery, nor the factory functions
as a normal site of production. Instead their social, religious, or economic
role has been subverted, since they have been appropriated and perverted
for either sexual or monetary ends. Although sexuality appears to be the
shared subtext of all these social institutions, since it represents its principles
of social exchange or consumer economy, this perception is soon qualified.
The last example in the book, that of Dalville's chateau, where he abuses his
subjects both as laborers and as sexual objects, demonstrates that their sta-
tus as autonomous subjects is totally in question, since the perversion of the
social order is equated with the production of false currency. Thus the sex-
ual referent, although universal, is no more privileged than any of the other
terms of the novel, since it can also be subject to an economy of simulation.
Just as money can be counterfeited and thus function within the social
domain, so can sexuality be reified, objectified, and perverted from its Iegit-
imated reproductive functions. Social institutions whose previous aims

involved the cumulative interest of social production or reproduction are
demystified as purveyors of expenditure, that is to say, waste.
To these central models of social exchange we may also add the produc-
tion of knowledge, whose ideological underpinnings are elucidated by Sade
in his parody of scientific discourse. The methodology of scientific knowl-
edge, particularly the experimental method, is caricatured in order to reveal
that science, like religion, relies on a set of beliefs that blind the observer-
believer to the scandalous implications of the method. Sophie's encounter
with the surgeon Rodin, a researcher who practices vivisection of the sexual
organs, reveals the fact that medical discourse relies on a concept of knowl-
edge whose methods imply the reduction of subjects to objects. Rodin per-
versely derives pleasure from the objectification implicit in medical experi-
ments insofar as they entail manipulation and power. Thus medical
knowledge is equated with Dalville's counterfeit money, to the extent that
they both instrumentalize sexuality as means to attain something else. In the
first case sexuality enables the discovery of new ideas; in the second case,
sexuality is a vehicle for the production of false currency that stands in for
the ideas. Within this economy of total simulation, neither sexuality nor
ideas can function legitimately. As simulated products of an economy of
waste that dispenses with the subject, both sexuality and money are
exchanged arbitrarily, thereby wreaking havoc on notions of both social
production and reproduction.
The superimposition of these different institutional codes in the novel has
profound effects on the conception of the individual as a social and private
entity. As Justine learns, the social and the private become indistinguishable
within the socialized context of the convent. There is no room either for pri-
vacy or ultimately for interiority. This can be seen in the advice offered to
Justine by Omphale, who tells her that there are no excuses in regard to the
law: one cannot say that one should not be punished for an infraction
because one did not know the law. As Omphale explains, one must be either
instructed by one's companions or guess everything by oneself; without
any forewarning one is held responsible and punished for everything. 14
Omphale's warning is very clear: ignorance is no excuse in the eyes of the
law. Consequently, in the Sadean text there is no space public or private that
escapes the script of the law, since the individual even at the most private
moments is still within the confines of the social scenario. Justine's useless
efforts to retain her personal identity within the context of the perverted
convent of Sainte-Marie des Bois represents Sade's radical critique of the
humanist interpretation of man as an autonomous individual entity. Even
the body, as the insignia of the personal, is victimized in such a way as to

transgress the conception of the body as private property. It is not by acci-
dent that the Sadean body has often been equated to a machine, since its
impersonal and mechanical character best represents the technical inscrip-
tion of ideology upon the body. This is why the protagonists in Sade demon-
strate a lack of self-consciousness in the psychological sense, or, from a the-
ological perspective, a lack of spiritual interiority. Sade parodies St. Paul's
dictum in Romans that the law is not the letter but the spirit. In his works,
there is only the law as the letter and no spirit.
In The Misfortunes of Virtue, Justine's refusal to recognize the function
of the law as an emblem of the social symbolic leads to her ultimate destruc-
tion, ironically by nature, rather than by society. This ironic ending, which
we shall examine later in more detail, reflects Sade's exploration and final
assimilation of the natural to the social. Justine/Sophie's death by a thun-
derbolt, which corresponds to her "unjust punishment" in the world of the
novel, reflects her complicitous relation to popular ideology: her identifi-
cation with the order of representation based on conventional moral princi-
ples. She represents the bad reader, the reader who mistakes the material
and signifying levels of the text. In the novel, it is exactly her conceit regard-
ing a certain way that representation behaves or its exemplarity that is con-
stantly tested and negated. Despite the overtly sadistic victimization of the
heroine, and by extension, the traditional reader, it becomes clear, follow-
ing Foucault's observation, that the "object of sadism" in the novel is not
ultimately the heroine, but "everything that might have been said," that is,
conventional discourse. 15 Insofar as the heroine herself is a representation of
the reader, it is her bad faith as a reader and good faith as a character that
constitute the plot of the text and the texture of her misfortunes.
From the Bedroom to the Deathbed of Philosophy
Sade lived through an ethical darkness similar to the intellectual

night in which Descartes shrouded himself.
-Simone de Beauvoir
If The Misfortunes of Virtue represents a heroine whose misfortunes derive

from her inability to learn from her experiences, Philosophy in the Bedroom
presents the counterscenario of a heroine whose erotic education leads to
the facile equation of eroticism with perversion and crime. The title of the
novel, Philosophy in the Bedroom, encapsulates the paradoxical content of
the work, its effort to combine eroticism and philosophy. However, despite
the overt affiliations of this novel to other erotic novels in the eighteenth
century and to the materialist philosophy of La Mettrie, d'Holbach, and
Helvetius, it soon becomes clear that neither eroticism nor philosophy is
treated in traditional ways.16 As this analysis will show, Sa de is not simply
using philosophy as a pretext for the presentation of erotic scenes, or vice
versa. Rather, his exploration of perverse sexuality and crime corresponds
to and reflects his effort to destroy the foundations of rationalist thought.
Perversion, understood in these terms, takes as its point of departure the
sexual referent in order to take to task the premises of rational thought
itself.
The dialogue form of Philosophy in the Bedroom and its theatrical char-
acter present problems for the reader. The narrative level, or what is told, is
enacted and staged for the reader, while providing at the same time theoret-
ical justification. As Sollers has noted, word, gesture, and thought are
brought together within a global theater that constitutes the "writing of the
inadmissible." 17 The problem for the reader is that the identification with
the erotic scene as the stage of desire is constantly interrupted by philo-
sophical disquisitions that threaten to mislead the reader into a criminal
relation to the text. The violation of the traditional norms that govern the
relation between reader and novel and novel and reality corresponds to the
perverse representation of sexuality and reason. As Michel Tort observes:
"We find a correspondence in Sade's work between the theoretical law of
maximizing perverse deviation, and a theory of the evolution of novelistic
forms and their necessary exhaustion." 18 This correspondence in Sade's
work between a theory of perversity and the use of deviant novelistic forms
will be the springboard for our discussion of the status of representation and
its philosophical conditions. A closer reading of the novel will demonstrate
that perversity is not merely an incidental aspect of the novel, but rather that
it reflects Sade's understanding of representation and his critique of classical
reason.
Despite the overt erotic and licentious content of Philosophy in the Bed-
room, the reader quickly becomes aware of the fact that both the erotic
body and the nature of pleasure are being redefined. The problem is that the
incessant couplings and scrambling of body parts defy not only our conven-
tional notion of sexuality, but more importantly, the autonomy of the body
as the bearer and purveyor of pleasure. Eugenie's initiation to sexuality by
her two "teachers," Mme. de Saint-Ange and Dolmance (who are brother
and sister), rapidly progresses into perverse activities. The conventions that
define both the anatomy and the functions of the "natural" body are will-
fully ignored in order to redefine the body and the pleasures traditionally
associated with it. Sexuality becomes an expression of the maximized forms

of mechanical coupling available to the body. But this saturation of all the
orifices and positions of the body-machine is accompanied by its further vir-
tualization and multiplication through mirrors. Mme. de Saint-Ange's
explanation as to why there are so many mirrors in her bedroom clarifies the
status of the libertine body in the novel:
By repeating our attitudes and postures in a thousand different ways, they

infinitely multiply those same pleasures for the persons seated here upon this
ottoman. Thus everything is visible, no part of the body can remain hidden:
everything must be seen; these images are so many groups disposed around
those enchained by love, so many delicious tableaux where lewdness waxes
drunk and which soon drive it to its climax. 19
Mme. de Saint-Ange's reply elucidates the status of sexuality in the novel.

Pleasure is no longer based on the natural body, nor on its conventional
associations. The mechanical saturation of the body is supplemented here
by the pleasures incited by its additional replication through images. 2o The
limits of the body are extended through mirrors whose reflections generate
an infinitely fragmented and deformed representation of sexuality. The
effort to make the body totally visible, so as to reveal its sexual workings,
results in the multiplication of the body as "delicious tableaux." These
"mirror" images of the body redefine pleasure as a perverse excess gener-
ated through representation. Thus the "pleasure principle" governing the
Sadean text no longer affirms the autonomy of the conventional body, but
rather its deviation and multiplication through perverse representations.
Perversion in this context no longer functions as the expression of particu-
lar forms of deviation, but emerges as a general attitude toward representa-
tion.
In the novel, the body is not presented according to classical conventions,
asking to be deciphered, decoded or interpreted. As Henaff observes, the
body in Sade exhibits no symptoms, it is not enigmatic, and knows no con-
tent other than that of its libertine context. 21 The sexual expenditure of the
body requires a language proper to expenditure-that of use-value, not the
referential language of communication or interpretation. The body is
defined purely by its functionality, and as such is reduced to a machine
(recalling La Mettrie), but a machine that exists only as a hookup to other
machines. Given this purely functional interpretation of the body, it is not
surprising that cruelty may become equated with and supersede pleasure.
Dolmance explains that "it is purely a question of exposing our nervous sys-
tem to the most violent possible shock; now there is no doubt that we are
much more keenly affected by pain than by pleasure: the reverberations that
result in us when the sensation of pain is produced in others will essentially
be of a more vigorous character" (PB, 252). Pain is described in mechanical
terms as a violent shock, recalling Sade's description in Reflections on the
Novel of why he chose to write about subjects that inspire shock and terror.
Following Sade's perverse logic, the representation of pain mechanically
"reverberates" or mirrors sensation more effectively than pleasure. Cruelty
can also be experienced as a function of mental representations that gener-
ate physical effects: "Look, Madame, do you see it? Do you see this libertine
discharge mentally, without anyone having touched her?" (PB, 288). Sade
supplements the mechanics of the body with virtual images, since the imag-
ination can represent events whose shock value exceeds physical reality.
Thus in addition to investing sexuality in the body in a mechanical sense,
Sade supplements its materiality with virtual images, thereby inscribing sex-
uality in the order of representation. By positing cruelty as a new kind of
pleasure principle, Sade perversely undermines conventional notions of sex-
uality in order to challenge, through representation, the limits of both rea-
son and the natural body.
Undermining the hierarchical separation of the mind and the body by
demonstrating their interchangeability as organs of pleasure, Sa de proceeds
to question further the identity of the body. In Philosophy in the Bedroom,
the body is presented as an undifferentiated entity, whose orifices are indis-
tinguishable by reference to pleasure: "For no one will wish to maintain that
all the parts of the body do not resemble each other, that there are some
which are pure, and others defiled; but, as it is unthinkable that such non-
sense be advanced seriously ... " (PB, 325-26; emphasis added). The tradi-
tional distinctions and hierarchies that describe the body are abolished, in
order to define the body through the principle of resemblance. The cultural
conventions that valorize certain parts of the body in order to exclude oth-
ers are denounced, so that the entire body may become the purveyor of plea-
sure. By affirming the functional resemblance of all the parts of the body,
Sade scrambles its conventional definition in order to constitute the libertine
body through perversion and parody. Not content to question the identity
of the body, Sade goes on to ask what man is, and why he occupies a privi-
leged place in the world:
What is man? and what difference is there between him and other plants,
between him and all the other animals of the world? None, obviously ....
Since the parallels are so exact that the inquiring eye of philosophy is
absolutely unable to perceive any grounds for discrimination (dissemblance),
there is just as much evil in killing animals as men, or just as little, and what-
ever be the distinctions we make, they will be found to stem from our pride's
prejudices, that which, unhappily, nothing is more absurd. (PB, 330)
By refusing to acknowledge a philosophical basis for man's distinctive place

in the hierarchy of natural beings, Sade destroys man's foundational posi-
tion. Recalling La Mettrie, his argument that man resembles all the other
natural beings so closely that even philosophy is unable to establish any fun-
damental difference between them threatens all moral distinctions. The
resemblance between men and animals endangers man's identity (or self-
resemblance): his preservation and immunity from crime. Sade's overt
refusal to appeal to reason as the distinguishing trait that separates men
from animals reflects his philosophical position rejecting transcendental cat-
egories based on foundational difference. 22 As such, it represents both an
attack on and a dismissal of the Cartesian definition of man. Sade's effort to
assimilate man and animal reflects his concept of nature, which for him is
both undifferentiated and indifferent. By denying man's privileged position
in nature, Sade reopens the question of man's definition and relation to
nature.
Sade's gesture represents an explicit attack on the theological foundation
of man, made in the likeness of God, for the libertine is a new kind of
(wo)man, whose likeness has been rendered incoherent by the incessant
scrambling of all the different parts. The libertine does not resemble "man"
as a universal type, lacking the internal coherence that defines the identity of
the classical subject. Rather, the libertine resembles him or herself exces-
sively, since identity is constituted through a play of simulations. The liber-
tine's identity is conceived as a copy with no prototype, a subject that knows
no originary or foundational moment. Consequently, Sade's definition of
"man" differs radically from the criteria used during the Enlightenment. By
questioning the specificity and the sovereignty of man, as a being different
from other natural beings, Sade challenges the humanist interpretation of
man, espoused by the tradition of Augustine, Montaigne, and Rousseau.
The Sadean critique of traditional humanism is based on his concept of
nature, which is no longer simply an object for contemplation or manipula-
tion, but rather a new source for poetic inspiration. Sade's elaboration of
libertine philosophy is grounded in an understanding of nature that is free
of moral connotations: nature is described as possessing no inherent dis-
tinctions in its organization. Vice and virtue are represented by Dolmance as
being equal in respect to nature:
one single motor is operative in this universe, and that motor is Nature. The
miracles-rather, the physical effects-of this mother of the human race, dif-
ferendy interpreted by men, have been deified by them under a thousand

forms, each more extraordinary than the other. (PB, 360)
This lack of difference or distinguishing traits in nature impairs man's effort

to establish moral distinctions, as well as to uphold his sovereign status. The
problem is that nature is both "motor" and "mother," that is to say, an
originary principle that generates difference merely as a secondary "effect,"
while still resembling itself. According to Sade, difference only comes into
playas men attempt to interpret nature, and thereby disrupt through this
understanding the governing principle of resemblance. The space of nature
is presented in terms of the excess generated through resemblance, thereby
equating it with the space of parody.23 Considered from this perspective,
culture is no longer conceived as the obverse of nature, but becomes the mir-
ror of its already perverse principles. Given this interpretation of nature, it
is not surprising that Sade attacks the laws that affirm the preservation of
humanity, either through marriage or the interdiction of crime.
Having redefined nature as an undifferentiated principle and thereby
affirmed the arbitrary character of human conventions, Sade proceeds in
Philosophy in the Bedroom to parody the law of incest, the very principle
that separates nature from culture. His preposterous effort to valorize incest
must be understood as the logical result of his pursuit ad absurdum to
describe nature in a new way. By hypostasizing the undifferentiated and
indifferent character of nature, Sade frees himself to make the most absurd
fictional claims. This is because the notion of "natural law" is for him
merely a projection of man-made fictions. In his pseudorevolutionary pam-
phlet, "Yet Another Effort, Frenchmen, If You Would Become Republi-
cans" (which constitutes a dominant section of Philosophy in the Bedroom),
Dolmance outrageously contends that incest should be the law of all repub-
lican governments based on fraternity (PB, 242). Sade's bitterly ironic claim
represents his violent attempt to parody revolutionary rhetoric. As an expo-
nent of fraternity, Sade is haunted by his own precarious position as a vic-
tim who only accidentally escapes being guillotined during the Terror. 24 By
interpreting the notion of fraternity literally as incest, Sade parodies and
reveals the violent underpinnings of the discourse of the Enlightenment.
Dolmance goes on to explain why incest may become the new law of the
revolutionary state: "If, in a word, love is born of resemblance, where may
it be more perfect than between brother and sister, between father and
daughter? (PB, 236; emphasis added). Sade redefines the principle of erotic
love as no longer being based on sexual or cultural difference. By positing
resemblance as the principle of love, Sade perversely arrives at incest as the
necessary conclusion of his social and philosophical parody. Filial and fra-
ternal love is privileged, since as Sade explains elsewhere, an incestuous
marriage provides "double reason to love."25 His use of this phrase suggests
that the scandal of incest is tied to the duplication and hence deregulation of
heretofore socially incompatible categories. Thus both eroticism and writ-
ing share a similar fate in Sade's work: as discourses of resemblance, their
true referent is the order of representation itself. But representation here no
longer implies either a rational order or the imitation of reality according to
convention, but rather their systematic destruction through the deviant
movement engendered by parody.
The outrage perpetrated by Sade's incestuous discourse undermines the
notion of nature by substituting for it the fictitious space of parody. His
incestuous narratives transform the relation between theory and practice by
valorizing fiction. 26 The originality of Sadean discourse resides less in its
efforts to transgress social norms than in its success at redefining literature
itself as a deviant and even criminal activity. By equating writing with per-
versity and crime, Sade redefines nature as the referent of his writerly proj-
ect. Thus Sade's obsession with incest reflects his effort to rethink nature in
terms of his theory of representation, which is based on resemblance. If
incest is a privileged term, this is because it embodies the very scandal of
representation. Incest is the index of a social and hence a linguistic crisis,
insofar as it suggests the capacity to combine inassimilable social categories
and thus generate fictitious predicates.
This attempt to violate the natural social order by mixing and scrambling
social and linguistic categories can be seen in Juliette, where Noirceuil pre-
sents his ultimate fantasy of perverse marriage. He wants to marry twice the
same day, impersonating both roles of man and woman, while imitated by
Juliette, who transvested as a man would marry another woman:
An extraordinary fantasy torments me since long ago, Juliette .... I want to
get married ... twice the same day: at noon, dressed as a man, marry a bar-
dache as a woman. I want more ... I want a woman to imitate me and what
other woman could better serve this fantasy? Dressed as a man, you must
marry a tribade at the same mass where, as a woman I marry a man! and that
dressed as a man, when I have resumed the vestments of my sex, I marry, as
a man, a bardache dressed as a woman.27
Sade's scenario represents the ultimate perversion of nature, since the false
replication of gender roles generates the ultimate incest fantasy, that of a
marriage of the like, where a trans vested man and woman marries their own
sex. Henaff comments on this scene by noting Sade's desire to permutate
and saturate all possible sexual positions. 28 However, this first type of chi-
asma, of saturation in an encyclopedic sense, is accompanied by an even
more radical gesture. For the desire for totality is accompanied by the pro-
duction of an excess beyond totality. Noirceuil's demand to be imitated by
Juliette, as he imitates himself as a man, creates an excess of signification
that can no longer be accommodated in the order of representation. 29 Mar-
riage as the social union of difference, as an exogamous relation, is doubly
reenacted the same day, each time with the same sexual partners. This fan-
tasy of mimicry becomes the figurative index of incest as a space of pure par-
ody. The free circulation of all the predicates of sexuality, their arbitrary
accumulation and expenditure, de-essentialize both gender and the moral
values attached to it. The sexual referent of the Sadean text thus emerges as
pure simulacrum: a copy without a real referent; that is, as the principle of
parody itself.
Unlike the other materialist thinkers such as La Mettrie, Helvetius, and
d'Holbach, Sa de does not simply revert to a naturalistic ideology.3D He does
not valorize nature as a new idol; on the contrary, he attempts to negate it
and defile it, and yet nature eludes him. 31 Since Sade views even crime and
evil as part of the workings of nature, the efforts to negate nature only
confirm its principles. Nature thus represents a philosophical and moral
scandal, since man can adopt neither an exterior nor a sovereign position in
relation to it. The crisis that nature presents for the Sadean protagonists, as
well as for the author, can only be resolved by subverting the notion of rep-
resentation. Given the perversity that Sade ascribes to nature, Sade's solu-
tion is to copy it and thus infinitely perpetuate it:
yes, I abhor Nature; and I detest her because I know her well. Aware of her
frightful secret, I have fallen back on myself and I have felt .... I have expe-
rienced a kind of pleasure in copying her foul deeds .... Should I love such a
mother? No; but I will imitate her, all the while detesting her, I shall copy
her, as she wishes, but I shall curse her unceasingly.32
Almani's comment in Juliette summarizes Sade's dilemma as an author who,

forced to copy nature, uses imitation as a form of denunciation. This copy,
like any other representation, resembles nature and deviates from it at the
same time. By presenting the task of copying nature as a burden, Sade paro-
dies Boileau's injunction in L'Art pohique: "Imitate nature, only nature is
true." Whereas for Boileau nature signifies an ideal of perfection, for Sa de it
signifies crime and evil, hence the burden of its representation. Rather than
defining the task of the writer in terms of verisimilitude (vraisemblance),
understood as the appearance of truth in fidelity to nature, Sa de defies the
conventions of novelistic plausibility. His "fidelity" to nature is no longer

based on idealization; rather, it represents his perverse interpretation of liter-
ature. While claiming to copy nature, Sade chooses to depict its most deviant
manifestations, thereby undermining its representation through parody.
Sade's perverse pleasure as an author replicating images of nature echoes
Mme de Saint-Ange's description of the libertine's pleasure at seeing the
body multiplied through reflections. For both, perversion is the figure of the
excess generated through representation, understood as the copy of a prior
or pregiven presentation. By simulating nature through parody, Sade opens
up the exploration of a new novelistic space, one where the principle of
fiction is elevated to a new "reality" that exceeds the constraints of the
dichotomy of both nature and culture. 33 Rather than accepting the tradi-
tional division between theory and practice, Sa de stages the contamination
of philosophy through the writing of fiction. By elaborating a theory of
representation based on parody, Sa de mockingly stages the hypostasis
of erotic and criminal pleasure: the coincidence of the "bedroom" and the
"deathbed" of philosophy.
The Impossible as Literature
The excesses of the Terror have dulled the taste of crime.

-Saint-Just
Having outlined the most salient aspects of Sade's theory of representation,

we shall now return to the question of why transgression is an inadequate
term to describe Sade's writings. If we go back to Foucault's formulation, in
his "Preface to Transgression," it becomes clearer why this term fails to
account for the liminal character of Sade's work:
Transgression does not seek to oppose one thing to another, nor does it
achieve its purpose through mockery or by upsetting the solidity of founda-
tions .... Transgression is neither violence in a divided world (in an ethical
world) nor a victory over limits (in a dialectical or revolutionary world); and
exactly for this reason its role is to measure the excessive distance that it
opens at the heart of the limit and to trace the flashing line that causes the
limit to arise. 34
Foucault correctly underlines the fact that transgression must be dissociated
from its negative ethical and dialectical associations, and thus from an
oppositional logic. However, he situates the domain of transgression out-
side both parody and the question of philosophical foundations. His formu-
lation is both a critique and an elaboration of Klossowski's and Bataille's

philosophical recovery of transgression as an antitheology by affirming
Nietzsche's and Blanchot's "'yes' of contestation."
By not considering the bitterly ironic and caricatural character of Sade's
representations of transgression, however, the philosophical readings of
Sade foreclose the interrogation of its literary character. Foucault's inter-
pretation of transgression as a gesture beyond "mockery" or parody implies
that transgression as a philosophical gesture may exceed the limits of litera-
ture while inevitably tracing out its impossible and excessive outline. The
problem is that the encyclopedic aspects of Sadean discourse are bracketed
in Sade's work by the foreclosure of classical representation, not merely by
extending its limits (its transgressive function), but by actually short-circuit-
ing its codes and discourses (its parodic function). Consequently, the excess
produced in the order of representation through parody results in the aboli-
tion of difference and the inassimilable deferral within representation of the
possibility of constituting a foundational order.
Sade's complicitous relation to nature and to his own position as writer-
victim is made explicit in Reflections on the Novel. In one of the most rec-
ognized passages of this work, he elucidates the status of the writer in rela-
tion to nature, claiming that as the "son" and "lover of nature," the writer
must become her incestuous lover:
o you who wish to venture upon this difficult and thorny career, bear ever in
mind that the novelist is the child of Nature, that she has created him to be
her painter; if he does not become his mother's lover the moment she gives
birth to him, let him never write, for we shall never read him. But if he feels
that burning need to portray everything, if, with fear and trembling he probes
into the bosom of Nature, in search of his art and for models to discover, if
he possesses the fever of talent and the enthusiasm of genius, let him follow
the hand that leads him; once having divined man, he will paint him. 35
This comment allows us to bring together our reflections on both represen-

tation and nature. Briefly, Sade's description of the novelist as the true man
of nature involves the fundamental task of representing nature. However,
this relation of depiction (peindre) is interpreted by Sade according to the
logic of parody as an incestuous relationship, a relation of crime and com-
plicity. As nature's lover and son, Sa de situates the novelistic project in the
space of culture, where the imitation of nature is perverted through
the deployment of a scandalous filiation, associated with incest. The task of
the author, according to Sade, is not simply to replicate nature, but to imi-
tate its sublime excesses. The act of writing is tied to the production of
excess in the domain of representation, which because of its parodic nature
disrupts irrevocably the conventional formulation of novelistic mimesis.

The attempt to mimic nature, by being truly faithful to her designs, leads to
the complicitous identification of the hand of nature with that of the author.
While appearing to follow nature ("the hand that leads him"), the hand of
the author incestuously traces out the criminal excesses of literature.
A similar incident appears at the end of Philosophy in the Bedroom,
where Eugenie's apprenticeship culminates in the attempt to violate the
maternal body by becoming the putative lover of nature. Eugenie's perverse
education in Philosophy in the Bedroom results in her rewriting her natural
origins through the violation of her mother's body. Her figurative incest
with her mother, which is accompanied by the sewing up of her genitals
with a red thread (a gesture doubled by Dolmance's sewing up of her anus)
enacts in a fantastic and violent sense Sade's definition of the novelist as the
lover of nature. 36 The equation of the gesture of writing (as a stand-in for
culture) reifies and displaces the maternal body (as a site for natural repro-
duction). Eugenie's violent marking of her mother's body is already the rep-
etition of the marks of flagellation administered by her libertine father.
Eugenie's violent emergence into the symbolic order can be seen as the dou-
bling of paternal violence and the inscription of its patriarchal legacy upon
the maternal body. However, this equation of culture and violence also
becomes the site for the reinscription of the opposition of nature and cul-
ture, since by denaturing nature, Eugenie, like the Sadean author, redefines
the project of writing as a criminal gesture whose violence disrupts the func-
tion of nature as origin and generator of categories.
Eugenie's suture of the maternal body excludes it from the natural system
of social reproduction and exchange that describes female sexuality. The
mother's body is saturated by totality, generating an excess beyond totality.
Thus the gesture of simulation produces an incalculable excess, that of the
play of representation itself. The violence of this operation upon the mother,
described in clinical terms, mimics the violence of the act of writing. As a
simulacrum of nature, the maternal body becomes at the same time the site
of transgression of the order of nature, which it ostensibly copies. Eugenie's
sewing needle and red thread figure, through this process of disfiguration,
the position of the writer in Sade, whose pen has become a sewing needle.
Thus writing embodies through this violent patchwork the doubly gendered
hand of a feminine nature and masculine culture.
The ending of The Misfortunes of Virtue presents yet another scenario of
writing as a criminal activity. The arbitrary destruction of Justine, just as
she begins to enjoy the fruits of virtue, once again functions as a sign of the
perverse complicity of the novelist and nature. It is as if her sense of destiny
as a victim invites and prescribes her final violation: her death by a lightning
bolt at the hands of nature. Justine's grotesque destruction and erasure from
the world of the novel etches upon her body the disfiguring material trace of
nature, which she had always refused to acknowledge: "Lightning had
entered by the right breast, it burned the chest, and came out through her
mouth, disfiguring her face so much that her face inspired horror.,,37 The
final disfiguration of Justine by the lightning bolt, the mark of the arbitrary
character of nature, summarizes Sade's effort to present historical being by
equating it with natural contingency. Passing through the right breast and
coming out through the mouth, writing emerges as a process of figuration
that reproduces the body through disfiguration. Having functioned as a
mere mouthpiece for values that did not come from the heart, Justine's car-
icatural existence is erased by the hand of the author, mimic and lover of
nature. The perverse fidelity of the author, as the incestuous lover of nature,
becomes transfigured in the act of writing presented undecidably as the
hand of both nature and man. This undecidability reveals something funda-
mental about the function of representation in Sade: the refusal to found a
stable principle for representation. Through the expenditure of mimesis, as
an endless play of simulations, the Sadean text represents itself as a copy
with no original, as pure parody. In The Misfortunes of Virtue, this unde-
cidability is put to an end only when all representation stops: when the
author puts down his pen and/or sewing needle.
In conclusion, we are left to ponder Sade's peculiar position in the history
of literature. In so doing we turn to Sollers's provocative question regarding
the paradoxical legacy of the Sa dean text for modernity: "How is it that
Sade is at once prohibited and accepted, prohibited as fiction (as writing)
and accepted as reality; forbidden as general reading and accepted as psy-
chological and physiological reference?,,18 Sollers's question summarizes in
a radical fashion the objections that this study has raised to reading Sade as
a transgressive author. Even if we regard the space of transgression as a pos-
itive space of contestation, the fact remains that such readings uphold sexu-
ality as the ultimate referent of contestation with the real. By maintaining
the distinction between fiction and reality, without understanding how Sade
erodes their mutual boundaries through parody, the transgressive readings
reinforce the paradox of the Sadean text that is banned as fiction while
being upheld as the referent of our psychological and physiological reality.
Can Sade's literary representation of sexuality be banned while sexuality
itself is given an "extraliterary" status? As this study has demonstrated, the
Sadean project, as reflected in both his novelistic practice and philosophical
reflections, can be better understood as a discourse of parody whose strate-
gic imitation of previous literary and philosophical conventions upsets the

very traditions that it simulates. The sexual referent in the Sadean text has
no more privilege than the nature it ostensibly replicates. The sexual for-
tunes or misfortunes of the Sadean heroines are profoundly literary. The
eroticism of the Sadean text is not defined by the choice of objects it chooses
to represent, be it the body, perversity, or crime. Rather, eroticism is a
reflection of Sade's interpretation of writing as a complicitous, perverse, and
at times even criminal gesture. As Simone de Beauvoir has pertinently noted:
"It was not murder that fulfilled Sade's erotic nature: it was literature. "39
Writing in the shadow of a French Revolution that culminates in the
Reign of Terror, Sade the libertine philosopher and writer radically chal-
lenges the Cartesian legacy by questioning both the preeminence of reason
and the representational order it entails. Sade's emphasis on the body and
sexuality as the primary vehicles for his interrogation of the limits of
thought reflects his efforts to undermine the Cartesian ontological imprint,
insofar as the notion of ontological difference also determines sexual differ-
ence. While relying on the materialist and mechanist account of the body, he
subverts the rational order that underlies it by parodying and thus pervert-
ing the supposed laws of nature. The initial diremption from nature, implicit
in the Cartesian mechanization of the body and later reinforced by materi-
alist interpretations of man, is parodically magnified by Sade. He dehuman-
izes the notion of human nature by including within its purview activities
that range from perversity to crime. And he denatures "nature" by subvert-
ing the logic of its universal laws to accommodate violence and evil. Nature
is thus deregulated, and the principles that govern its organization are sub-
sumed within an irrational order. Moreover, the exaggerated violence and
terror that Sade unleashes upon the body, which reflect its initial philosoph-
ical objectification and subjection, are transposed to and legitimized by the
social domain that enacts, through discipline and punishment, the submis-
sion of the body to institutional norms and rules. Thus the corporeality of
the body emerges as a function of its social administration and disposition,
in terms of techniques of power, rather than as the expression of its embod-
ied character. As Michel Foucault observes: "In Sade, sex is without any
norm or intrinsic rule that might be formulated from its own nature.,,40 For
the logic of the body is restricted to the regimes of power that govern its
administration, thereby adumbrating its future legacy as subject of both vio-
lence and terror. Sade's literary and philosophical parodies foreshadow the
historical destiny of the body, its subjection and victimization scripted by a
culture of violence.
Conclusion
The genealogies of the modern body outlined in the pages of this volume
present us with a paradoxical legacy. We find ourselves today turning back
to early modern conceptions of the body in order to question and overcome
the predominance of modern conceptions. It is precisely those aspects of the
body that were foreclosed by the foundation of modern notions that enable
us to challenge their conceptual framework and their ostensible factual
authority and solidity. Rather than treating the body as a given, this study
has sought to inquire into its cultural construction, its conceptual and rep-
resentational modes of materialization or consolidation, in order to recover
what had become unpresentable and thus postponed in the modern inter-
pretations of the body. The emphasis on experience and embodiment evi-
denced in these early modern notions of the body, which are grounded in
reflections on the nature of representation, open up the horizon of body
toward postmodern forms of inquiry and thought. Insofar as they stage the
question of the body in terms of communicability, understood as both in an
intersubjective and intercorporeal modality, these works adumbrate con-
ceptual developments central to postmodernity. It is this representational
approach that is supplanted by the emergence of Cartesian and post-Carte-
sian paradigms that have informed and shaped decisively our modern
understandings of the body. However, the consolidation of these modern
conceptual models involves the derealization, even evacuation of the lived
body, in favor of abstract analogues whose material logic is informed by the
regime of the machine. The progressive virtualization of the body, its
schematization, mechanization, and ultimate spectralization, coincides with
the evisceration of corporeality and the contingencies of its multiple embod-
iments. The dematerialization of the body as lived entity implies its para-
doxical return as a material thing, that is to say its "rematerialization" not
as body but as material abstraction defined by epistemological constraints.
It is precisely the idealism inherent in this legacy to modernity, which
bypasses corporeality by recourse to virtual entities and hypothetical
worlds, that is taken to task by Nietzsche in The Twilight of the Idols

(1889), which vehemently reclaims the primacy of the lived body as the
locus of culture:
It is decisive for the fortune of nations and of mankind that one should inau-
gurate culture in the right place-not in the "soul" (as has been the fateful
superstition of priests and quasi-priests): the right place is the body,
demeanor, diet, physiology: the rest follows. 1
Reacting against Christian theological traditions that upheld the preemi-

nence of the soul by devaluing and rejecting the body, through the elabora-
tion of notions of transcendence that sought to escape human embodiment,
Nietzsche insists on the centrality of the body and its modalities of embodi-
ment as the site for locating and elaborating culture. Nietzsche's emphasis
on the body radically challenges not only religious traditions that valorized
the soul, but philosophical traditions as well. His attempts to "philosophize
with a hammer" in order to "sound out idols" make violently audible his
attack against the hollowness of religious and philosophical systems based
on ideals that universalize and essentialize being by removing it from the
purview of embodiment and its horizon of becoming: "There are more idols
in the world than there are realities" (21). This proliferation of idealized
concepts that are solidified into stone, endemic to the history of European
philosophy since Plato, attests to the division of the world into a "real" and
"apparent" world, a distinction which can only be sustained by ascribing
the priority of conceptual abstractions that override the logic of appearance
that describes the world. Whether in the "manner of Christianity or Kant"
(39), these religious and philosophical systems that uphold the "reality" of
an ideal world in order to dismiss the actual world suffer from a lack of his-
torical sense and the incapacity of engaging with notions of becoming.
According to Nietzsche, this inability to engage becoming-rather than
being understood as abstracted essence-relegates philosophers to handling
mere "conceptual mummies," eviscerated from fabric of a living world: "All
that philosophers have handled for millennia have been conceptual mum-
mies; nothing actual has escaped from their hands alive" (35).
Nietzsche alludes to the hypothetical abstractions or virtual entities
evoked throughout the history of philosophy whose validity is derived from
either the negation or the voiding of notions of being grounded in the world.
As Nietzsche observes: "The characteristics which have been assigned to
'real being' of things are characteristics of non-being, of nothingness-the
'real world' has been constructed out of the contradiction to the actual
world" (39). This philosophical effort to dehistoricize the being of things,
Conclusion. 171
sub specie aeterni, ascribes to it features of nonbeing that pit the virtual
"reality" of religious, axiomatic, or fictive constructions against the actual
world. Relying on Heraclitus, the philosopher of becoming, and his con-
tention that "being is an empty fiction," Nietzsche denounces the fal-
sification and usurpation of the "apparent world" by the philosophical
fiction of a "real" world emptied of multiplicity and contingency: "The
'apparent' world is the only one: the 'real' world has only been lyingly
added" (36).
At the heart of the distinction between apparent and real, which eviscer-
ates the world from the realm of appearances and the subject from its
embodied condition, lies the philosophical preeminence accorded to reason.
To religious mistrust and dismissal of the world in favor of an otherworldly
reality is now added the deliberate condemnation of the body, no longer
simply a sexual entity, but also a cognitive one. As Nietzsche observes, the
evidence of the senses comes into doubt only by presuming the ascendancy
of reason as the grounding condition: "'Reason' is the cause of our
falsification of the evidence of the senses" (36). This misrepresentation that
transforms the evidence of the senses into a lie eradicates the body from the
purview of both cognition and embodiment. Consequently, this denuncia-
tion and ultimate dismissal of the senses implies the derealization of the
body and the actual world in favor of a virtual being that derives its mean-
ing from the failure to ground being in the actual world. Nietzsche's call for
a return to a notion of culture grounded in the body and its historical
modalities of becoming recovers precisely what philosophy, beginning with
Plato and especially since Descartes, has removed from its purview by posit-
ing the priority of reason. His revalorization of sense perceptions, recovered
from their prior associations with deception and doubt and redeployed as
the insignia of appearance, reinscribes the logic of becoming as the consti-
tutive condition of a reflection on the body in terms that take into account
its historically contingent, contextual, and representational character. His
emphasis on the body and the senses as the insignia of appearance also calls
upon a reflection on language and its representational powers in order to
interrogate the "basic presuppositions of the metaphysics of language" (38).
Such a reflection on language and representation does not reflect simply a
literary bias, but also a philosophical one. For it is within the framework of
language and representation that the metaphysical foreclosure of the body
has already taken place. Nietzsche does not merely urge a reengagement of
the body and its sensorial realm, but also a radical reconsideration of its rep-
resentational status in order to challenge its linguistic presuppositions.
These engagements with the body as sensorial horizon, as representation,
and, hence, as contingency emerge as the signatory features of modern

philosophical efforts to think the body in terms of its embeddedness in the
world. 2 This study has sought to answer Nietzsche call by retracing one of
the crucial Western cultural moments in the definition of the body: the pas-
sage from notions of body and embodiment based on experience and
grounded in representation to the Cartesian material and mechanical reduc-
tion of the body and its subsequent legacy to the development of French
materialism in the eighteenth century. If Montaigne is pivotal to this study,
this is because he was first to alert us of the dangers of an "inhuman wis-
dom" that would make us disdainful enemies of the "culture of the body."
Montaigne's premonitory warning regarding the responsibility of defining
knowledge in terms of its engagement with the body and its modes of culti-
vation attests to his efforts to ground thought within the purview of human
experience and modes of representation. His denunciation of "transcenden-
tal humors" as an effigy of the efforts to transcend the human as an embod-
ied condition anticipate the dangers entailed in the elaboration of transcen-
dental subjectivity in Descartes, particularly as regards the elimination of
the body as conduit for knowledge and its reduction to the inhuman implicit
in its definition as a machine.
However, as this study demonstrated, Montaigne's emphasis on the
experiential body, be it in the perceptual or the social realm, leads to its
redefinition in the modality of a script, the provisional staging of the body
as a scenario that attains its meaning through its position and transposition
in various cultural contexts. Montaigne's philosophical and textual account
of the body is shared by other baroque authors such as d'Urfe, who resist
essentialist interpretations by presenting the body not as a given, but as a
process of embodiment that necessarily references representational prac-
tices. It is this emphasis on the body as a site of communicability, as a
process of embodiment operating within representation, that inscribes the
baroque interpretations in the writings of Montaigne and d'Urfe within a
postmodern horizon of reflection on representation and notions of becom-
ing. These baroque works open up an understanding of the body as inter-
subjective and intercorporeal exchange functioning in the modality of an
address whose philosophical, aesthetic, and ethical character derives from
an engagement with the world.
Despite the archaic nature of these works, whose influence has been
usurped by the emergence of the Cartesian mind-body dualism, their philo-
sophical and discursive implications open up new conceptual possibilities
for representing and understanding the body. Their emphasis on locating
the logic of embodiment within the order of representation (understood as
Conclusion • 173
appearance and changing semblance) opens up the body and its identity to
nonessentialist interpretations. Although they appear before the advent of
the modern age, these works locate the question of the body and its culture
within the horizon of language and communication, theoretically elabo-
rated only in the latter part of the twentieth century in the late works of
Merleau-Ponty and in structuralism and poststructuralism. Thus despite the
identification of these works with the late Renaissance and baroque human-
ism, implicit in their emphasis on experience, their explorations of embodi-
ment as a function of representation also suggest postmodernist and posthu-
manist inferences. Their understanding of embodiment as the materializing
effect of representation decenters the embodied subject by inscribing it
within a horizon that exceeds purely phenomenological determinations,
insofar as the subjective presence of the body is scripted within the fabric of
the world. 3
As Nietzsche's comments suggest, and as this study has demonstrated, in
Descartes's writings the experiential body suffers radical redefinition as a
material and mechanical thing, its logic disengaged from the order of ratio-
nal knowledge and the fabric of the world. The preeminence granted to
rational consciousness and the subjection of the body as material thing sever
the objective reality of the body from its subjective existence. As this study
has shown, the emergence of a disembodied subject and the mind-body
dualism will render embodiment moot, since issues of embodiment can no
longer be considered from the purview of the lived body and are transposed
to the institutional frameworks that attend to its administration as a
mechanical object. Moreover, the absence of a temporal horizon that would
ensure the duration of subjectivity in time preempts embodiment by
annulling the possibility of becoming. This failure to temporalize subjectiv-
ity heralds the impossibility of ethics, since the subject's relation to the eth-
ical, according to Emmanuel Levinas, is grounded in the recognition of the
alterity of temporality not as virtual abstraction but as event. 4 The techno-
logical legacy of Descartes's works is most visible in his strategies of virtu-
alization, that of dismissing the reality of the lived, experiential body by
substituting for it mechanical analogues haunted by specters of the inhu-
man. These strategies entail the philosophical derealization and reduction of
the world to deceptive appearances that can only be overcome by positing
hypothetical worlds, whose virtual and axiomatic logic references notions
of an idealized, rather than worldly, reality.
It is interesting to note that despite the impact that Descartes's analogy of
the human organism to the machine has had on philosophical and techno-
logical developments from the eighteenth century into the early part of the
twentieth century, mechanical models and analogies are being supplanted

by the rise of new conceptual paradigms in information and biotechnolo-
gies. s As Descartes's mechanist account of the body and La Mettrie's
description of man as a machine reveal their limitations and potential
obsolescence, Montaigne's scriptorial account of the body opens up new
possibilities. Montaigne's legacy lies not merely in his revalorization of
experience, and thus the sensorial body, but more significantly in his pro-
grammatic understanding of experience that configures the body as a func-
tion of reiterative processes of encoding, decoding, and transcription. His
interpretation of the body as discursive and communicative site opens the
question of the body toward its consideration as an intersubjective and
intercorporeal system for communication and exchange. Since the mean-
ing of the body is derived from its representational character, the logic of
the body is embedded within the material, signifying processes of repre-
sentation. By foreclosing the body within the logic of the mechanism,
Descartes's and La Mettrie's accounts postponed the advent of our current
understanding of the body in the biology, biotechnology, and information-
based sciences. 6 For the operative paradigms within these new disciplines
are modeled on the vocabulary of linguistics and communication theory,
that of the transmission of message or information, through processes of
encoding, decoding, and transcription. 7
Given the emphasis on the body in terms of embodiment, sexuality and
sexual difference have proved central to this study. This volume has, on the
one hand, provided accounts of sexuality that preceded Descartes's elabora-
tion of ontological difference and his mechanization of the body; on the
other hand, it has outlined the legacy of his philosophical positions on the
development of French materialist thought and literature. In the baroque
writings of Montaigne and d'Urfe the representation of sexuality is not
defined in essentialist terms, by reference to sexual difference and thus
established gender positions, male or female. The freedom of embodiment,
of occupying different gender positions at the same time, or of taking on dif-
ferent sexual roles, attests to an understanding of sexual difference that is
not foundational, since it is merely the effect of representation defined as a
play of resemblances. By recognizing that the ostensibly deceptive or illu-
sionistic effects of representation reflect the traces of contingency and
becoming, these authors inscribe the mark of alterity not between the sexes,
but within sexuality, thereby deferring its essentialist consolidation. In mak-
ing these claims, I do not suggest that the late sixteenth or early seventeenth
century was either more free socially or more enlightened than the modern
period. Rather, the absence an epistemological foundation and rational
Conclusion • 175
framework enabled accounts of corporeality that are fluid insofar as embod-

iment necessarily involves assuming multiple positions within representa-
tion. Just as the self and its relations to others and the world are contextu-
ally bound, so does the body emerge not as a given but derive its specific
meanings from its embeddedness in a variety of contexts. If sexual identity
is open to multiple gender determinations, this is because corporeality is
provisional upon its modes of materialization. By subsuming the logic of
sexuality within an understanding of representation as shifting semblance,
Montaigne and d'Urfe explore the meanings attached to representation in
order to elaborate a notion of sexuality whose intersubjective character is
marked by intersexual overtones. These gestures reposition sexuality in the
intersubjective realm of communication and exchange, where the corporeal
is redefined as the bearer of alterities that postpone its consolidation into a
body. Rather than functioning as the dividing mark between the sexes, this
notion of alterity opens up sexuality by inscribing it in an intersexual hori-
zon of becoming.
While Descartes's disembodiment of the rational subject and his equation
of the body to a machine at first sight appears to have erased sexuality from
its purview, the relation between Descartes's elaboration of ontological dif-
ference and its impact on notions of sexual difference suggest otherwise. In
this context, La Mettrie and Sa de document both the implied consequences
of the Cartesian materialization and objectification of the body, and the
difficulty of challenging its metaphysical premises. While questioning mind-
body dualism, by attempting to subsume reason within a materialist frame-
work La Mettrie and Sade nonetheless preserve the Cartesian mechanist ide-
ology and his technological legacy. For it is no longer just the body but the
idea of man that becomes subject to technical manipulations in a variety of
domains, including medicine and science and, in the case of Sade, social and
political institutions. The materialist body that they reclaim has little in
common with its baroque predecessors, since the materiality of the body is
constituted not through its contingent encounters with the world, but its
forceful submission and discipline to institutional and social codes. The
physical body becomes reified through institutional and social practices that
govern its administration, so that sexuality and sexual pleasure are
redefined in terms of the violence entailed in the submission, control, and
instrumentalization of the body. While Sade seems to challenge conven-
tional notions of sexual difference by claiming sexuality as a form of expres-
sion equally available to men and women, his understanding of sexuality is
founded on a model of social violence and sadism that only confirms the dis-
possession of the body by the social systems that govern the logic of its
administration. The ethical deficiencies in Sade lie not in his affirmation of

sexual perversion, but in his inability to move beyond the will to power and
nihilism implicit in his redeployment of Cartesian subjectivity. Missing in
Sade's writings is not merely an ethical dimension that would mediate the
relation of the self to others, but more importantly, the recognition of con-
tingency that the alterity of one's own body or the body of another could
present to the self. It is precisely the enigma of inhabiting the world as a
body and the ethics of encountering other bodies that the Sadean text tries
to demystify, only to fall back into the philosophical traditions whose legacy
it seeks so violently and desperately to overcome. The Cartesian account of
subjectivity, which reduces the body to a material and mechanical thing
devoid of experiential and historical reality, bequeaths to modernity a body
that has ceased to be a "culture." It will take Nietzsche's violent injunctions
to reclaim the body as the nodal point for inaugurating notions of culture,
as crucial to philosophical investigation. Following Nietzsche, the philo-
sophical reembodiment of subjectivity and the recovery of the body from its
virtual and instrumental functions as mere backdrop and apparatus for the
projection of subjectivity will find its most eloquent developments in
the philosophy Maurice Merleau-Ponty. Concluding his discussion of the
Cartesian cogito in The Phenomenology of Perception, Merleau-Ponty
affirms that the elaboration of subjectivity must take as its necessary hori-
zon the lived body as situated in the world. If, "when I reflect on the essence
of subjectivity, I find it bound up with that of the body and that of the
world, this is because my existence as subjectivity is merely one with my
existence as a body and with the existence of the world, and because the
subject that I am, when taken concretely, is inseparable from this body and
this world."8 As Merleau-Ponty points out, the meaning of subjectivity can-
not be contained by the notion of rational consciousness nor imply the
reduction of the body and the world to ideas. For the disclosure of the world
necessarily entails embodiment, a condition whose alterity decenters subjec-
tivity in the very process of fleshing it out.
Merleau-Ponty's efforts to address embodiment and overcome the Carte-
sian legacy of the subject-object dichotomy will span his later works and
strain the bounds of philosophical language. In The Visible and the Invisi-
ble he invites us to think about the body in the world as a dialogue between
the "flesh of the body" and the "flesh of the world."9 This invitation to
think the embeddedness of the body in the world as an intersubjective
exchange that implies "intercorporeity" opens up new possibilities for
understanding the body's embodiments, its modalities of becoming as fabric
Conclusion • 177
of the world. Already audible in the margins of Montaigne and d'Urf6 writ-
ings, the whispered encounters between the flesh of the body and the flesh of
the world resonate with new urgency as we seek to find new ways of under-
standing the meaning of embodiment as a culture that works through the
past toward an already nascent future.
Notes
Introduction
1. Starting with Michel Foucault's History of Sexuality (1976-84), Elaine

Scarry's The Body in Pain (1985), Catherine Gallagher and Thomas Laqueur, eds.,
The Making of the Modern Body: Sexuality and Society in the Nineteenth Century
(1987), and Michel Feher, Ramona Hadoff, and Nadia Tazi, eds., Fragments for a
History of the Human Body (1989), we see a renewed effort to inquire into the con-
stitution of the body as physical, discursive, and social entity, followed by a prolif-
eration of critical works in the 1990s. For a survey and discussion of the critical lit-
erature on the body, see Carolyn Bynum's "Why All the Fuss about ~he Body? A
Medievalist's Perspective," in Critical Inquiry 22 (autumn 1995): 1-31.
2. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, "Everywhere and Nowhere," in Signs, trans.
Richard C. Cleary (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1964), 154.
3. Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays of Montaigne, trans. Donald
Frame (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1985), III, 13: 849; book, chapter, and
page number. All references to the original French text are to Essais de Montaigne,
ed. Maurice Rat, vols. 1 and 2 (Paris: Garnier Freres, 1962).
4. The French word culture in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century
is translated into English as "culture," "tillage," or "husbandry," that is, implying
agricultural cultivation. See Randle Cotgrave, A Dictionarie of the French and En-
glish Tongues (London: Adam Islip, 1611; rpt., Columbia: University of South Car-
olina Press, 1950), no page number. Given Montaigne's knowledge of and reliance
on Latin traditions, his use of the word culture also reflects its Latin usage, which
includes the cultivation of the body in the physical and moral sense, as well as tradi-
tion.
5. Montaigne's claims for the cultivation of the body are more than mere reit-
erations of Stoic and Epicurean principles involving techniques of the body, since
they represent his emphasis on the formative character of experience, the personal
character of which is framed by cultural determinations.
6. See Foucault's "History of Systems of Thought," in Language, Counter-
Memory, Practice, ed. Donald F. Bouchard, trans. Donald F. Bouchard and Sherry
Simon (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1977),200.
7. For an analysis of Nietzsche's genealogical approach, see Michel Foucault,
"Nietzsche, Genealogy, History," in Language, Counter-Memory, Practice, 148.
180 • Notes to Pages 4-15
8. See Jean-Fran~ois Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowl-

edge, trans. Geoffrey Bennington and Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1984),81.
9. These divisions are indebted to literary history and to Michel Foucault's peri-
odization of the discourses of knowledge and representational systems of the early
modern period in Les Mots et les choses: Une archeologie des sciences humaines
(Paris: Gallimard, 1966), pt. 1, pp. 19-224.
10. In his last, uncompleted work, The Visible and the Invisible (trans. Alphonso
Lingis [Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1968]), Merleau-Ponty's analysis
focuses on vision and the viewing subject in order to argue that the chiasmatic inter-
play and enfoldedness of the visible and the invisible is no longer accessible to a
humanist subject. See also "Eye and Mind," in The Privacy of Perception, ed. James
M. Edie, trans. Carleton Dallery (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1964):
159-90.
11. For a discussion of this epistemological shift in Montaigne and Descartes, see
my Subjectivity and Representation in Descartes: The Origins of Modernity (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 8-85, 187-95.
12. Martin Heidegger, What Is a Thing? trans. W. B. Barton and V. Deutsch
(Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1967),99.
13. Michel Foucault's emphasis on notions of discursive practice relocates the
logic of the phenomenological body within the reiterative order of discursive prac-
tices. See The History of Sexuality, vol. 1, An Introduction (1976), trans. Robert
Hurley (New York: Vintage Books, 1990),5-13,61-73,92-102. Also see Judith
Butler's Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of "Sex" (New York: Rout-
ledge, 1993), 1-23.
14. Foucault's and Butler's discussions of sexuality reference Foucault's earlier
analysis of the subjection of the body to "power-knowledge relations," elaborated in
Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (1975), trans. Alan Sheridan (New
York: Vintage Books, 1995), 25-30.
15. Foucault suggests that the emergence of the discourse of sexuality in the sev-
enteenth century is tied to the social institutionalization of confessional discourse
that organizes and regulates its usage (The History of Sexuality, vol. 1). His claim
enables a reading of earlier representations of sexuality in terms that are not
reducible to the regulative norms at work in modern interpretations of sexuality.
Chapter 1
1. Nicolas Malebranche, The Search after Truth, trans. Thomas M. Lennon and
Paul Olscamp (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1980), bk. 2, pt. 3, chap. 5,
p.184.
2. As Albert Thibaudet points out, what is lacking in Montaigne's style is lack-
ing in the period as a whole: discipline and order. See Montaigne (Paris: Gallimard,
1963),491.
Notes to Pages 15-17 • 181
3. Guez de Balzac, Entretiens, vol. 18, De Montaigne et de ses ecrits (1657 ed.),
209.
4. Malebranche, The Search after Truth, 184-85.
5. As Merleau-Ponty points out, Montaigne's consciousness is not mind from
the outset, nor does it involve the self-possession implied in the Cartesian under-
standing ("Reading Montaigne," in Signs, 199).
6. For an analysis of classical and baroque style, see Henry Peyre, Qu-est ce que
Ie classicisme? Essai de mise au point (Paris: Droz, 1942); R. A. Sayee, "Renaissance,
Mannerism and Baroque," in The Essays of Montaigne: A Critical Exploration
(Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1972), 313-26; and Morris W. Croll,
"Attic" and Baroque Prose Style: The Anti-Ciceronian Movement, ed. J. Max
Patrick, Robert O. Evans, and John M. Wallace (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1969).
7. For general studies on Montaigne's style, see Thibaudet, Montaigne; Floyd
Gray, Le Style de Montaigne (Paris: Nizet, 1958); Sayee, The Essays of Montaigne,
280-312; Gisele Mathieu-Castellani, Montaigne: L 'ecriture de l'essai (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1988), 115-32. On Montaigne and rhetoric, see Frank
Lestringant, ed., Rhetorique de Montaigne (Paris: Honore Champion, 1985).
8. The question of Montaigne's style is inseparable from broader epistemologi-
cal concerns that mark the distinction between the baroque and classical world-
views. See Walter Benjamin's comments on allegory in The Origin of German Tragic
Drama, trans. John Osborne (London: NLB, 1977), 159-82; and Foucault, Les
Mots et les chases, 32-59.
9. Jules Brody, Lectures de Montaigne (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum, 1982),
55-92, and Nouvelles Lectures de Montaigne (Paris: Honore Champion, 1994),
105-78; Terence Cave, "Montaigne," in The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writ-
ing in the French Renaissance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979),271-321; Robert D.
Cottrell, Sexualityrrextuality: A Study of the Fabric of Montaigne's Essays (Colum-
bus: Ohio State University Press, 1981); Lawrence D. Kritzman, The Rhetoric of
Sexuality and the Literature of the French Renaissance (New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 1993), 57-73, 73-92, 133-47; Mathieu-Castellani, Montaigne,
135-253; Jean Starobinski, Montaigne in Motion, trans. Arthur Goldhammer
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 138-213.
10. On this much-discussed essay see the following related works: Barbara C.
Bowen, "Montaigne's Anti-Phaedrus: 'Sur des vers de Virgile' (Essais, III, V)," Jour-
nal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 5 (1975): 107-21; Erica Harth, "'Sur des
vers de Virgile': Antinomy and Totality in Montaigne," French Forum 2 (1977):
3-21; Cave, "Montaigne," 271-321; Jean Starobinski, "Speaking Love," in Mon-
taigne in Motion, 185-213; Lawrence D. Kritzman, "My Body, My Text: Mon-
taigne and the Rhetoric of Self-Portraiture," in Rhetoric of Sexuality, 133-47; Floyd
Gray, "Eros et ecriture: 'Sur des vers de Virgil,''' in Les Parcours des "Essais": Mon-
taigne 1588-1988, ed. Marcel Tetel and G. Mallary Masters (Paris: Aux Amateurs
du Livre, 1989),263-72; Geralde Nakam, "Eros et les Muses dans 'Sur des vers de
Virgile,''' in Montaigne: La maniere et la matiere (Paris: Klincksieck, 1992),
133-44; Patricia Parker, "Gender Ideology, Gender Change: The Case of Marie Ger-
main," Critical Inquiry 19 (winter 1993): 337-64.
11. Robert D. Cottrell interprets Montaigne's allusion to Aristotle's Metaphysics
as an effort to emphasize the role of desire ("Representation and the Desiring Sub-
ject in Montaigne's 'De l'experience," in Tetel and Masters, Les Parcours des
"Essais," 97-98). For a comprehensive account of Montaigne's borrowings from
Aristotle, see Edilia Traverso, MOlltaigne e Aristotele (Florence: Felice Le Monnier,
1974).
12. For an analysis of the prevalence of the term forme in this essay, see Brody,
Nouvelles Lectures de Montaigne, 112-17.
13. Commenting implicitly on Montaigne, Michel Foucault recognizes only the
analogical aspects of reason based on resemblance, not on difference (Les Mots et les
chases, 63-67). While it is true that difference is not posited in Montaigne as a foun-
dational term constitutive of the ontology of being, difference nonetheless functions
as one of the constitutive paradigms of the operations of reason.
14. Cottrell understands this anecdote as an allegory of desire, as the effort to
seek and possess the object of desire ("Representation and Desiring Subject," 101-3,
105-6).
15. For a general account of law in Montaigne, see Carol Clark, "Montaigne
and Law," in Montaigne and His Age, ed. Keith Cameron (Exeter: University of
Exeter Press, 1981),49-68.
16. For a general analysis of medicine in Montaigne, see Margaret Brunyate,
"Montaigne and Medicine," in Cameron, Montaigne and His Age, 27-38; for a
broader account of Renaissance medicine, see Vivian Nutton, "Medicine in the Age
of Montaigne," in Montaigne and His Age, 15-25.
17. As Geralde Nakam points out, illness in Montaigne can be as much the effect
of physical developments as of the imagination, and it may be treated in kind
("Corps physique, corps social: La maladie et la sante," chap. 4 in Montaigne,
61-65).
18. Examining Montaigne's earlier pronouncements on medicine in "Of the
Resemblance of Children to Their Fathers," Starobinski claims that Montaigne crit-
icizes traditional empiricism without proposing anything to take its place. He inter-
prets the essay "Of Experience" as a gloss on this earlier essay (Montaigne in
Motion, 150-56).
19. For Montaigne's earlier exploration of the notion of custom, see "Of Cus-
tom, and Not Easily Changing an Accepted Law" (I, 23). Also see Tzvetan
Todorov's discussion of custom and natural law, "L'Etre et I'autre: Montaigne," in
"Montaigne: Essays in Reading," an issue of Yale French Studies 64 (1983): 113-21.
20. While noting that personal customs or habits may be subject to change, Ull-
rich Langer focuses on the relation of custom to the law. See "Montaigne's Cus-
toms," Montaigne Studies: An Interdisciplinary Forum 4, nos. 1-2 (1992): 82,
83-95.
21. For an analysis of the role of the imagination in Montaigne, see Dora Pol-
lachek, "Montaigne and Imagination: The Dynamics of Power and Control," in

Tetel and Masters, Les Parcours des "Essais, " 135-45.
22. See Etienne Gilson's discussion of Thomas Aquinas in Etudes sur Ie role de
la pensee medievale dans fa formation du systeme cartesien, 5th ed. (Paris: J. Vrin,
1984).
23. This is not surprising, since as Merleau-Ponty observes, self-understanding
implies a dialogue with the self ("Reading Montaigne," 199).
24. My reading differs with Merleau-Ponty's claim, "Death is the act of one per-
son alone" ("Reading Montaigne," 201), since death also implies subjection to
forms of both necessity and contingency that cannot be resumed under the aegisis of
agency.
25. Starobinski, Montaigne in Motion, 183.
26. For Kritzman, Montaigne's gesture leads to the transformation of the text
into a surrogate object of pleasure, so that sexuality as the lost object may be recap-
tured through writing (Rhetoric of Sexuality, 134-35).
27. For an analysis of this statement as a dialectical movement, see Harth, "Sur
des vers de Virgile," 4-5.
28. This mark of engraving, this incision that marks the beginning of the text, is
playfully echoed by the reiterative quality of the letter V, which shows up in the allit-
erative structure of the title and as the Roman numeral of the essay.
29. The onerous corporeality of thought corresponds to the sexualization of the
common soul, represented as being too often erect (ame bandee) (III, 5: 638). As
Montaigne suggests, it is now the turn of the body to guide the spirit toward re-
formation (III, 5: 638). Bowen understands Montaigne's emphasis on the body as a
reaction against the Neoplatonist emphasis on the soul ("Montaigne's Anti-
Phaedrus," 114).
30. As Starobinski reminds us, Montaigne's recourse to citations is ambiguous:
"It is not only an ostentatious display of knowledge, but also a display of borrowed
knowledge and hence of one's own inadequacy" (Montaigne in Motion, 208). For a
comprehensive study, see Mary B. McKinley, Words in a Corner: Studies in Mon-
taigne's Latin Quotations (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum, 1981).
31. Cave, "Montaigne," 284.
32. For the psychoanalytic implications of this event, see Lawrence Kritzman,
"Pedagogical Graffiti and the Rhetoric of Conceit," in Rhetoric of Sexuality, 61-67.
33. Mary McKinley understands Montaigne's appeal to literature to represent
sexual experience as an appeal to an indirect language of self-exposure that
expresses sexuality through periphrasis (Words in a Corner, 83).
34. Kritzman suggests that Montaigne's privileging of reproduction to create the
illusion of giving life to an inanimate object reflects his own inscription of the intel-
lectual act (Rhetoric of Sexuality, 88).
35. McKinley observes that the central role of these Latin quotations is to help
define the structure of the essay, thus participating in Montaigne's rhetorical strat-
egy (Words in a Corner, 79). See also Gray's comment that the essay owes its formal
schema to these organizing citations (Le Style de Montaigne, 203).
36. According to McKinley, these portraits of Venus by the Latin authors depict
Venus as a metaphor of sexual passion as experienced by the male (Words ill a Cor-
ner, 87). The question is whether the choice of these passages by Montaigne is moti-
vated by the fact that they describe sexual pleasure as a kind of dialogue or interval
between speech and silence.
37. Gray notes Montaigne's systematic mixing of Virgil's and Lucretius's lan-
guage ("Eros et ecriture," 2 72). Mathieu-Castellani comments on the implications of
Montaigne's gesture, observing that "words make love" and "have a sex" (Mon-
taigne, 129-30).
38. As McKinley points out, even before their existence in the Essays, the Virgil
and Lucretius passages were closely linked, signaling Montaigne's recognition of
Virgil's borrowing from Lucretius (Words in a Corner, 90-91). For an analysis of
Virgil's borrowing from Lucretius, see Michael C. J. Putnam, The Poetry of the
Aeneid: Four Studies in Imaginative Unity (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1965),137.
39. Starobinski interprets Montaigne's act of borrowing as a gesture of both
dependence and rivalry, one that mediates Montaigne's own self-possession (Mon-
taigne in Motion, 112-14).
40. For a philosophical and psychoanalytic analysis of performativity as cita-
tionality, see Butler, Bodies That Matter, 12-16.
41. Kritzman interprets this symbolic image of an "idealized masculine lan-
guage" as an inverse image of the essayist, in Rhetoric of Sexuality, 67.
42. Kritzman notes the indeterminacy of the interplay between rhetoric and sex-
uality: "The text sets up an indeterminate play between rhetoric and sexuality at the
same time that it expresses the wish for a rhetorical potency that would capture and
authentically represent the energies figured in the self-portrait" (Rhetoric of Sexual-
ity, 137).
43. Parker interprets Montaigne's pronouncements on the virile style as the con-
tinuation of a long-standing Latin tradition that opposes "manly style" to feminized
laxness. However, she also notes that when Montaigne actually deploys these terms
in their sexual sense in his essay, they are associated not with the affirmation of viril-
ity, but with its failure ("Gender Ideology, Gender Change," 252-54). Carol Clark
observes that this opposition is not consistently sustained in Montaigne's writings,
since feminized laxness and softness are also treated in an approbatory fashion. See
The Web of Metaphor: Studies in the Imagery of Montaigne's "Essais" (Lexington,
Ky.: French Forum, 1978),91-96,161-62.
44. Kritzman notes Montaigne's tendency to "bitextuality," to the traces of the
feminine in a masculine mode, as a sign of ambivalence within the textual subject
(Rhetoric of Sexuality, 68-71).
45. For Montaigne's comments on impotence, see Essays, I, 2; I, 21; I, 54; and
Ill, 5. See also Lee R. Entin-Bates, "Montaigne's Remarks on Impotence," Modern
Language Notes 91 (May 1976): 640-54; and Lawrence D. Kritzman, "Montaigne's
Fantastic Monsters and the Construction of Gender," in Writing the Renaissance:
Essays on Sixteenth-Century French Literature in Honor of Floyd Gray, ed. Ray-
mond C. La Charite (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum, 1992), 191-94; d. Parker's dis-
cussion in "Gender Ideology, Gender Change," 345-46,348-53.
46. According to Hugo Friedrich, the insufficiency of French compared to Latin
reflects a common humanist bias against the so-called vulgar languages. However,
this supposed imperfection of the French language is but an invitation for Montaigne
to use it (Hugo Friedrich, Montaigne, trans. Robert Rovini [Paris: Gallimard, 19681,
377).
47. Montaigne's conclusion is hard to reconcile with Bowen's claim that he is
antifeminist ("Montaigne's Anti-Phaedrus, " 107).
48. For Cave's comment regarding Montaigne's revalorization of language, see
Cornucopian Text, 288.
49. Parker comments that Montaigne's sometime reliance on the Aristotelian
orthodoxy of women's greater passivity is undermined by an overwhelming number
of anecdotes documenting activity ("Gender Ideology, Gender Change," 351-52,
354-56).
50. Cf. Marc E. Blanchard's discussion of the representation of female sexuality
in Trois portraits de Montaigne: Essai sur la representation a la Renaissance (Paris:
Nizet, 1990),209-11.
51. Although the number six appears to be arbitrary, it is in excess of the roman
numeral V of the essay "On Some Verses of Virgil" (III, 5). At the inception of this
essay, Montaigne puns exhaustively on the coincidence of the letter V, in verses and
Virgil, etc., and the roman numeral V.
52. Montaigne adds that sexual pleasure becomes vicious either by immodera-
tion or by indiscretion (III, 5: 668). Kritzman interprets Montaigne's description of
pleasure in a Freudian sense, as a lowering of tension through a process of emptying
out (Rhetoric of Sexuality, 146).
53. For a general analysis of "mutual obligations" as they pertain to both mar-
riage and love, see Starobinski, Montaigne in Motion, 198-207. While Starobinski
distinguishes between the contractual nature of marriage and the love "bargain,"
which he defines as an exchange in desire (202), my own analysis focuses on sexual
pleasure in both contexts as a transactional and transitive category.
54. McKinley observes that "the subject of text focuses the problem of quota-
tion" as a productive principle, both enabling and restraining (Words in a Corner,
102).
55. See Richard Regosin, The Matter of My Book: Montaigne's "Essais" as the
Book of the Self (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), 199. However, in
this passage he privileges exclusively the self-reflexive aspects of language as the
essential entity and medium of incarnation of the essay.
56. John O'Neill notes Montaigne's reliance on Stoic criteria, particularly in his
preference for a "palpable" or energetic style. See Essaying Montaigne: A Study of
the Renaissance Institution of Writing and Reading (London: Routledge and Kegan
Paul, 1982),93-95.
57. Cf. Starobinski, Montaigne in Motion, 208.
58. As Starobinski comments: "Doubling does not secure replication of identity
but introduces difference, inaugurating the whole infinite series of the countable"
(Montaigne in Motion, 20).
59. Fran~ois Rigolot powerfully argues for the fluidity and metamorphic charac-
ter of Montaigne's self-presentation. See Les Metamorphoses de Montaigne (Paris:
Presses Universitaires de France, 1988),227-29.
60. Regosin, Matter of My Book, 203.
61. For the dynamism of the text as a generative, living body, see Lawrence D.
Kritzman, Destructionldecouverte: Le fonctionnement de la rhetorique dans les
"Essais" de Montaigne (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum, 1980), 102-5, 107. Rigolot
suggests that Montaigne's theory of textual generation is based on Ovid's Metamor-
phoses (Les Metamorphoses de Montaigne, 126).
62. For an analysis of the body forged in the text as a transcription of the move-
ment of desire, see Kritzman, "Montaigne's Family Romance," in Rhetoric of Sexu-
ality, 77.
63. Cave suggests that Montaigne is a fold in his own text (Cornucopian Text,
282).
64. For an analysis of Montaigne's name both as a proper name and as a geo-
graphical location, see Fran~ois Rigolot, "Semiotique et onomastique: Le nom pro-
pre de Montaigne," in Tetel and Masters, Les Parcours des "Essais," 147-49.
Chapter 2
1. Astrea was published in five parts, the first part in 1607, the second in 1610,
the third in 1619, and an incomplete fourth part (comprising the first four books) in
1625. After d'Urfe's death in 1625, his secretary, Balthazar Baro, to whom the book
had originally been dictated, completed the fourth part and published this version in
1627, followed by a fifth part that he claimed was based on the author's notes, also
in 1627. This chapter is an expanded and revised version of "Emblematic Legacies:
Hieroglyphs of Desire in L'Astree," in EMF: Studies in Early Modern France, ed.
David L. Rubin (Charlottesville, Va.: Rockwood Press, 1995),31-54.
2. The Princess of Cleves is considered to formally inaugurate the birth of the
novel in the French tradition, though the early part of the century is replete with sev-
eral other novelistic traditions, such as the pastoral, the precious, and the comic nov-
els. It is important to note that this genealogy of the origins of the French novel con-
veniently overlooks Charles Sorel's parody of Astrea entitled The Extravagant
Shepherd, which was republished in the 1633 edition with the subtitle The Anti-
Novel. Thus it would seem that the emergence of the antinovel in France precedes
the emergence of the novel.
3. The insistence on normative and idealist aesthetic criteria such as verisimili-
tude (vraisemblance) and plausibility (bienseance) and the concomitant effort to cen-
sure and purify both theatrical and novelistic discourse relegated previous novelistic
efforts to obsolescence. Such developments also suggest the potential impact of the
classical rule of the three unities elaborated in the dramatic context of the novel,
insofar as the construction of subjectivity, setting, and multiple narratives becomes

more restrictive and tightly structured.
4. For a brief history and analysis of this analogy, see Wendy Steiner, The Col-
ors of Rhetoric: Problems in the Relation between Modern Literature and Painting
(Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1982), 1-18.
5. Heinrich W6lfflin, Renaissance and Baroque, trans. Kathrin Simon (Ithaca,
N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1967), and Principles of Art History: The Problem of
the Development of Style in Later Art, trans. M. D. Hottinger (New York: Dover,
1950).
6. W6lfflin, Principles of Art History, 14,27.
7. W6lfflin, Principles of Art History. 27.
8. For an analysis of perspective as a symbolic form in the Renaissance, see
Erwin Panofski, La Perspective comme forme symbolique, trans. Guy Ballange
(Paris: Minuit, 1975); for an analysis of anamorphosis as artistic and optical exper-
imentation in the baroque period, see Jurgis Baltrusaitis, Anamorphic Art, trans. W.
J. Strachan (New York: Harry J. Abrams, 1977).
9. See Foucault, Les Mots et les choses; and Jose Antonio Maravall, The Cul-
ture of the Baroque: Analysis of a Historical Structure, trans. Terry Cochran (Min-
neapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986). The significance of both of these
studies is the effort to designate the baroque as a historical concept. In the case of
Foucault, the baroque implies a particular epistemological formation, a ternary con-
cept of the sign, as well as a theory of representation based on interpretation.
Although MaravaH's attention focuses on how the baroque reflects the specific
social, political, and economic conditions of the Spanish context, his analysis sug-
gests that his periodization (1605-50) may also apply to other European countries
(4).
10. In Barocco (Paris: Seuil, 1975), Severo Sarduy explores the Keplerian basis of
baroque cosmology based on a decentered notion of ellipsis, while in La Doublure
(Paris: Seuil, 1981) he elaborates the aesthetic implications of this position. Christina
Buci-Glucksmann's La Raison baroque: De Baudelaire a Benjamin (Paris: Galilee,
1984) and her La Folie du voir: De l'esthetique baroque (Paris: Galilee, 1986)
explore the visual and rhetorical categories of baroque aesthetics, as a concept that
is both historical and transhistorical. The most nuanced philosophical exploration
of the baroque is to be found in Gilles Deleuze, The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque,
trans. Tom Conley (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993).
11. In Sarduy's and Buci-Glucksmann's later work we see renewed emphasis on
the plastic character of vision, as well as the effort, by Buci-Glucksmann (basing her-
self on Benjamin, German Tragic Drama), to explore vision itself as an allegorical
concept.
12. Carl Horst, Barock-probleme (Munich: E. Rentsch, 1912),39-40; cited by
Benjamin, German Tragic Drama, 177.
13. Benjamin, German Tragic Drama, 177.
14. Benjamin, German Tragic Drama, 162. Deleuze underlines the originality of
Benjamin's contribution in interpreting allegory neither as failed symbol nor as
abstract personification, but as a figurative device that "uncovers nature and history
according to the order of time" (The Fold, 12).
15. See Albrecht Schone, Emhlematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock
(Munich: Beck, 1964); Dietrich jons, Das "Sinnen-bild": Studien zur allegorischen
Bildlichkeit bei Andreas Gryphius (Stuttgart: Metzder, 1966); and Peter M. Daly's
discussion of their contribution in Emblematic Theory: Recent German Contribu-
tions to the Characterization of the Emblem Genre (Nendeln: KTO Press, 1979),
21-77. For an analysis of emblems and their impact on literature see Daly's Litera-
ture in Light of the Emblem (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1979); and
Daniel S. Russell's groundbreaking The Emblem and Device in France (Lexington,
Ky.: French Forum, 1985).
16. In order to get a better idea of the scope and variety of emblem books, see
Mario Praz's bibliography of over six hundred authors in Studies in Seventeenth-
Century Imagery (London: Warburg Institute, 1939-47), vols. 1-2. See in particular
his discussion of Andrea Alciati, Emblematum fiber, considered the seminal source
of the emblematic genre, particularly as regards his reliance on the Greek epigram-
matic tradition (1:22-31).
17. See Daniel S. Russell's persuasive argument in "Du Bellay's Emblematic
Vision of Rome," Yale French Studies 47 (1972): 100.
18. Schone, Emblematik und Drama, 21; also quoted in Daly, Literature in
Light, 38.
19. See Angus Fletcher, Allegory: The Theory of a Symbolic Mode (Ithaca, N.Y.:
Cornell University Press, 1964),3.
20. This statement, attributed by Plutarch to Simonedes of Ceos, has a major
resurgence during the Renaissance and baroque periods, as demonstrated by the
writings of Pompeo Garigliano, Marino and others. See Giulio Marzot, L'ingegno e
il genio del Seicento (Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1944).
21. Except as noted, translations are based on Astrea: A Romance, 3 vols. (Lon-
don: Printed by W. W. for H. Moseley, T. Dring, and H. Herringman, 1657-58), as
emended by Leonard Hinds and the author to reflect more closely the text's literal
and figurative language and to update spelling. Quotations of the original French are
from L'Astree, ed. Hugues Vaganay, 5 vols. (Lyon: Pierre Masson, 1925). Both
French and English versions are cited by volume and page, the translation listed first,
then the original French.
22. Gerard Genette, "Le Serpent dans la Bergerie," introduction to L'Astree, ed.
Gerard Genette (Paris: Union genera Ie d'Editions, 1964), 10. For Louise Horowitz,
on the contrary, in Honore d'Ur(e (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1984), 16, L'Astree
is geographically accurate to the extent that it represents an idealized Forez.
23. I am referring here to such details as the yellow and fly-spotted wallpaper in
Balzac's Eugenie Grandet, where the most minute details in the environment reflect
the psychological and social instincts of the characters, as well as to Zola's novels,
where environmental influences are translated into congenital disorders.
24. For an analysis of the significance of the river, see M. Gerhardt, "Un Person-
nage principal de L'Astree: Le Lignon," in Colloque commemoratif du quatrieme

centenaire de la naissance d'Honore d'Ur{e (Montbrison: La Diana, 1970),47-56.
25. Jean Rousset, La Litterature de rage baroque en France: Circe et Ie paon
(Paris: Corti, 1960), describes the baroque obsession with flowing water as an "orgie
hydraulique," 144; d. W6lfflin, Renaissance and Baroque, 154.
26. As Alexandru Ciorenescu points out in regard to Montemayor and Cer-
vantes (Astree's pastoral models), there is little curiosity for nature in its own right.
See Barocul sau descoperirea dramei, trans. G. Tureacu (Cluj: Editura Dacia, 1980),
57-67.
27. But what appears to be an initial personalization of the river results in the
opposite effect: nature is personalized "not as to be made more inward, but, on the
contrary-so as to be deprived of soul" (Benjamin, German Tragic Drama, 187 n.
69, quoting Cysarz).
28. Horowitz, Honore d'Ur{e, 21. This study will demonstrate that the novel
presents a critique, rather than an affirmation, of Platonic and Neoplatonic doctrine.
29. See Honore d'Urfe's Epitres Morales (1595-1608), where he expounds his
philosophy based on the sixteenth-century Italian treatises on love by Bembo, Cas-
tiglione, and Leon Hebreu, as discussed by Antoine Adam, "La Theorie mystique de
l'amour dans L'Astree et ses sources italiennes," Revue d'Histoire de la Philosophie
(1937).
30. Benjamin, German Tragic Drama, 164-65 n. 13, quoting Creuzer.
31. Unlike Jacques Lacan's mirror stage, where the constitution of the self as an
image involves both self-reflection and the alienation or division of the self, this mir-
ror reflects less the question of individual identity (the imaginary) than that of its
social constitution (the symbolic). See "Le Stade du miroir," in Ecrits (Paris: Seuil,
1966).
32. In "An Impossible Response: The Disaster of Narcissus," in Literature and
the Ethical Question, a special issue of Yale French Studies 79 (1991): 127-34,
Claire Nouvet proposes a new reading of Ovid's myth, one in which the reflective
powers of the water stage the figurative aspects of the subject in the process of self-
representation, as a "disastrous scene of writing."
33. Charles Anton, Classical Dictionary (New York: Harper and Brothers,
1873), s.v. "Narcissus," 871.
34. Edward Baron Turk notes that the anagram-configurations suggested by the
syllabic makeup of the proper names indicate its significance as a structuring device
in the baroque novel: "the dispersal of discrete syllables in protean contexts rein-
forces the sense of motility and instability, whereas the recurrence of the same sylla-
bles forming networks of concatenated segments reinforces the sense of inter-relat-
edness and fused integrity." Baroque Fiction-Making: A Study of Gomberville's
"Polexandre" (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Department of Romance
Languages, 1978),51.
35. Translated from the original. The French is provided here since certain word-
play is impossible to translate exactly.
Nymphe, qui sens dedans ces roches creuses

Quel est Ie mal des peines amoureuses,
N'auray-je donc jamais allegements? Je ments.
Comment, Echo, n'est-ce point un blaspheme
De t'accuser et dire que tu ments?
Ce que j'entens est-ce bien ta voix mesme? Ayme.
(II, 10)
36. This is exactly the pleasure that Narcissus is unable to enjoy, since he is
unable to recognize the echoes of his own speech (Nouvet, "An Impossible
Response," 122-23).
37. For an analysis of how subjective effects are arbitrarily generated through the
use of the first person, see Emile Benveniste, "De la subjectivite dans Ie language," in
Probtemes de tinguistique generate (Paris: Gallimard, 1966).
38. For a preliminary analysis of this passage in relation to the graphic and styl-
istic dimension of the text, see my "The Graphic Text: The Nude in L'Astree,"
Papers in French Seventeenth Century Literature 15, no. 29 (1988): 532-33.
39. It is only with Descartes and the advent of classicism that the mind-body dis-
tinction will become firmly established.
40. The philosophical implications of this incident are elaborated in the context
of Descartes's hyperbolic doubt argument in my Subjectivity and Representation in
Descartes, 22-23, 155-59.
41. See the definition of hyperbole in The Winston Dictionary: Encyclopedic
Edition (Philadelphia: John C. Winston Co., 1957),475.
42. In his reading of L 'Astree, Gerard Genette emphasizes the transgressive
dimension of the novel, the fact that the code of love only exists to engender fraud.
His interpretation reflects a dialectical conception of desire, where desire is defined
in terms of its own negation ("Le Serpent dans la Bergerie," 19-21).
43. Despite its structuralist character, Jacques Ehrmann's analysis is heavily
indebted to Sartre, to a dialectical and humanist essentialism. See Un Paradis des-
espere: L'amour et l'illusion dans "L'Astree" (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1963),4.
44. Horowitz, Honore d'Ur(e, 111-12.
45. Horowitz perceptively examines the thematic dimensions of disguise, with-
out inquiring, however, into how they express the status of representation in the
novel (Honore d'Ur(e, 96-125).
46. As Horowitz suggests, "Celadon becomes a woman, through our reading of
a female name" (Honore d'Ur(e, 114).
47. Horowitz, Honore d'Ur(e, 98.
48. Jean-Louis Schefer, "On the Object of Figuration," trans. T. Corrigan and
D. Judovitz, Sub-Stance 39 (1983): 30.
49. As the narrator tells us from the beginning, love involves the appropriate loss
of oneself: "The truth is, if one must acquire some happiness in the loss of oneself,
(Celadon) could consider himself lost so well unto the purpose" (1:1) [II est vray que
si en la perte de soy mesme on peut faire quelque acquisition, dont on se doive con-
tenter, il se peut dire heureux de s'estre perdu si a propos] (1:10).
50. It is interesting to note that the English translation has Alexis pressing
Astrea's body against her bosom, while the original version uses the word estomach,
which loosely refers not to the stomach, but the middle of the body, considered at
the time as the true repository of affection.
51. For Sigmund Freud, the fetish is substitute for the maternal phallus; see
"Fetishism" (1927), in Sexuality and the Psychology of Love, ed. Philip Rieff (New
York: Collier Books, 1974),215.
52. For instance, Celadon's hat is not just a hat, to the extent that within the
folds of its lining are hidden the couple's letters. This item of clothing is tossed back
and forth with the couple's correspondence.
53. In the closing moments of d'Urfe's novel, Astrea competes with Alexis,
claiming to be Astrea, in order to save Alexis's life. Her argument to Polemas regard-
ing the truth of her identity is based on an appeal to her clothes: "consult these
clothes which I wear" (3:185) [demandez-Ie a ces habits que je porte] (4:752).
Clothes in this context function in the manner of speech: they provide the visual
response to a query regarding the competing claims of two individuals for the same
name. However, Polemas is not persuaded, and he sentences them both to death:
"Since you are both the daughters of that villain, I order that you both be treated
accordingly" (3:185) [Puis donc, que vous estes toutes deux filles de ce meschant
homme, j'ordonne que vous soyez toutes deux traitees comme telles] (4:752). Unable
to tolerate resemblance, Polemas settles the danger posed by these competing dou-
bles hy suppressing both of the terms.
54. As if to verify the perfection of this new disguise, we are told that the sight of
Astrea, alias CeladonlAlexis, invites the amorous advances of Hylas.
55. Deleuze also notes in reference to baroque sculpture that folds are not simply
decorative effects, but convey the "intensity of a spiritual force exerted on the body"
(The Fold, 122).
Chapter 3
1. This difference cannot be accounted for simply by invoking generic distinc-

tions, by assigning Montaigne's Essays to literature and Descartes's Discourse on
Method to philosophy, for the distinctions between these domains are not yet firmly
established in France in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. These
works mix philosophical and literary concerns and conceits as they elaborate on sub-
jectivity and its relation to knowledge and self-knowledge. This chapter expands
ideas first presented in "Descartes' Virtual Bodies: Anatomy, Technology, and the
Inhuman," in Writing the Body, spec. issue of Paroles GeLees 16, no. 1 (1998):
21-41.
2. In postulating this rupture, I am relying on Michel Foucault's notion of epis-
temic rupture, that is, of a historical discontinuity hetween the world of the late
Renaissance and the baroque and the world of the Cartesian and classical, based on
entirely different codes and discursive practices in knowledge, language, representa-

tion, and subjectivity. See Foucault's discussion in Les Mots et les choses, 13-15,
32-91.
3. For a general analysis of Galen's humoral theories, see Rudolph E. Siegel,
Galen's System of Physiology and Medicine (Basel: S. Karger, 1968),205-24.
4. For an analysis of the role of signatures in the late Renaissance and early
baroque European culture, see Foucault, Les Mots et les choses, 40-45.
5. Michel Foucault examines the relations of blood to power and understands
this transition as a passage from a symbolics of blood to an analytics of sexuality
(History of Sexuality, 1:147-48).
6. For a general account of Descartes's debt and reaction to Harvey, see Etienne
Gilson, Etudes sur Ie role de la pensee medievale dans la formation du systeme
cartesien, 5th ed. (Paris, J. Vrin, 1984), 51-101. See also Marjorie Grene, "The
Heart and Blood: Descartes, Plemp, and Harvey," in Essays in the Philosophy of Sci-
ence of Rene Descartes, ed. Stephen Voss (New York: Oxford University Press,
1993),324-35.
7. Georges Canguilhem's comment in A Vital Rationalist: Selected Writings
from Georges Canguilhem, ed. Fran~ois Delaporte, trans. Arthur Goldhammer
(New York: Zone Books, 1994), 130-31.
8. For a detailed analysis of Harvey's work, see Walter Pagel, William Harvey's
Biological Ideas: Selected Aspects and Historical Background (New York: Hafner,
1967),51-59.
9. These analogies are visible in Harvey's dedication to Charles 1, which equates
the sun, the king, and the heart. See Owsei Temkin, "Metaphors of Human Biol-
ogy," in The Double Face of Janus and Other Essays in the History of Medicine
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977),281-82.
10. Harvey's interpretation of the pulse as a mechanical impulse, conferred on
blood by the movement of contraction and relaxation of the heart, replaces the
Galenic interpretation of pulse as "force" generated by the arterial wall (Pagel,
William Harvey's Biological Ideas, 51-54).
11. See Pagel's comments regarding these mechanical analogies and their sub-
servience to Aristotelian vitalism (William Harvey's Biological Ideas, 80-81).
12. See Descartes's letter to Plempius, February 15, 1638, in The Philosophical
Writings of Descartes, ed. John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, and Dugald Mur-
doch, trans. John Cottingham, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1985),3:79-80 (hereafter cited as PWD) and his comments in Description of the
Human Body (1664; PWD, 1:318-19). Also see Anne Bitbol-Hesperies's discussion
in Le Principe de la vie chez Descartes (Paris: J. Vrin, 1990),55-102. Descartes's
preference for a model based on heat might be explained by his efforts to account for
both the motion of blood and its distillation into the minute corpuscles of the animal
spirits.
13. This distinction between Harvey's use of mechanist analogies and
Descartes's definition of the body as a machine adds nuance to Jonathan Sawday's
assimilation of their positions. See The Body Emblazoned: Dissection and the
Human Body in Renaissance Culture (London: Routledge, 1995),23-32.
14. See The Philosophical Works of Descartes, trans. E. S. Haldane and G. R. T.
Ross (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), 1:101 (hereafter cited as HR).
15. Canguilhem also notes the dependence of Descartes's theory of the animal
machine on the cogito (A Vital Rationalist, 227).
16. George Louis Leclerc, Comte de Buffon critiques the interpretation of the cir-
culation of blood in mechanical terms. In Histoire naturelle des animaux (1748), he
comments: "It is obvious that neither the circulation of blood nor the movement of
the muscles nor the animal functions can be explained in terms of impulse or any of
the laws of ordinary mechanics" (chap. 10, as quoted by Canguilhem, A Vital
Rationalist, 165). For a general account of Descartes's mechanical interpretation of
nature, see E. J. Dijksterhuis, The Mechanization of the World Picture (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1961),403-18.
17. Marie-Christine Pouchelle, Corps et chirurgie Ii I'apogee du Moyen Age
(Paris: Flammarion, 1983), 170-73. Mondeville privileges the architect, who is
defined by the capacity to design a plan of action. This privilege, accorded to archi-
tects as a guiding paradigm for surgeons, also occurs in Descartes's analogies in part
2 of the Discourse, which compares the philosopher with the architect who operates
according to an overall blueprint.
18. For these analogies, see Pouchelle, Corps et chirurgie, 176-83. Aristotle also
makes an analogy between animal movements and automatic mechanical move-
ments like those in war machines such as the catapult. See Alfred Espinas, "L'Or-
ganisation ou la machine vivante en Grece au IVe siecle avant J.-c.," Revue de Mha-
physique et de Morale (1903): 702-17.
19. Pouchelle elaborates this cohesion between anatomical and social categories
in Mondeville in Corps et chirurgie, 189-92.
20. Sec Aquinas's Summa Theologiae (I, II, 13, 2) and Antoniana-Margarita
Gomez-Pereira, Opus nempe physicis medicis ac thelogicis non minus utile quam
necessarium (Medina del Campo, 1555-58). In his letter to Mersenne, June 23,
1641, Descartes denies knowledge of Gomez's work and dismisses it offhand, but
the similarity of their positions is striking. Sec G. A. Lindebom's discussion in
Descartes and Medicine (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1979), 61-62.
21. A possible literary source may include Jean Froissart's "L'Horioge
amoureus" (ca. 1368), in which an analogy is elaborated between the mechanisms of
a clock and those of love. I want to thank Patrick Wheeler for bringing this text to
my attention.
22. For an analysis of the meaning of this term as presented in late-seventeenth-
century dictionaries, see Claude Reichler, "Machine et machinations: La ruse des
signes," Revue des Sciences Humaines 58, nos. 186-87 (1982): 33-39. Also see
Gerard Simon's analysis of this term in "Les Machines au XVIIe siecle: Usage,
typologie, resonances symboliques," in Revue des Sciences Humaines 58, nos.
186-87 (1982): 10-13.
23. See Georges Canguilhem's comments in A Vital Rationalist, 206-7; see also
his general discussion of the relation of the Cartesian machine to the notion of the
organism, in "Machine and Organism," in "Incorporations," ed. Jonathan Crary
and Sanford Kwinter, special issue of Zone 6 (winter 1992): 45-69.
24. John Cottingham notes that Descartes is referring here to "fictional men,"
introduced in an earlier and (lost) part of the Treatise on Man, analogously to his use
of the "new world" in the World (PWD, 1:99). For a detailed analysis of the role of
the fictional and the axiomatic in the World, see my Subjectivity and Representation
in Descartes, 87-97.
25. Canguilhem, "Machine and Organism," 53-54.
26. For an analysis of the mathematical and epistemological underpinnings of
Descartes's philosophy, see my Subjectivity and Representation in Descartes, 39-85.
27. In his letter to Reneri for Poll at, Descartes argues that the statement "I am
breathing, therefore I exist," is insufficient as an argument for existence, since the
thought of breathing implies existence in the mode of "I am thinking, therefore I
exist" (April or May 1638; PWD, 3:98).
28. Canguilhem, A Vital Rationalist, 207.
29. Carolyn Merchant, The Death of Nature: Womell, Ecology, and the Sci-
entific Revolution (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1980),194-205.
30. Descartes's descriptions of gardens and hydraulic statues are possihly based
on the royal gardens of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. See Ferdinand Alquie's annotation
in Rene Descartes, Oeuvres Philosophiques de Descartes, 3 vols., ed Ferdinand
Alquie (Paris: Garnier, 1973), 1:390. A possible scholarly source for the analysis of
the mechanical forces at stake may include Salomon de Caus, Les Raisons des forces
mouvantes avec diverses machines tant utiles que plaisantes auxquelles sont jointes
plusieurs desseings de grottes et de fantaines (Frankfurt, 1615).
31. Descartes's description of gardens echoes Montaigne's own astonishment
hefore the hydraulic marvels of his own time, in Journal de voyage en Italie par la
Suisse et l"Allemagne en 1550-1581 (Paris: Cluh Fran"ais du Livre, 1954), 109. For
a general analysis of French seventeenth-century gardens and their relations to carte-
sian metaphysics, see Allen S. Weiss, Mirrors of Infinity: The French Formal Garden
and 17th-Century Metaphysics (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1995).
32. In the medieval and renaissance traditions, the animal spirits are invoked to
mediate the relation of body and soul. See David P. Walker's discussion in "Medical
Spirits in Philosophy and Theology from Ficino to Newton," in Arts du spectacles et
histoire des idees: Recueil offert en hommage Ii Jean Jacquot (Tours: Centre d'etudes
superieures de la Renaissance, 1984),287-300.
33. Descartes's dramatic representation of the human body through the unfold-
ing scenography of garden displays recalls the staging devices of dissection in the
anatomy theater. See Sawday's analysis of the theatricality of dissection in The Body
Emblazoned, 146-58.
34. For an analysis of dissection as a spectacle of display that renders visible the
scientific gaze and the perspective of natural philosophy, see Francis Barker, The
Tremulous Private Body: Essays on Subjection (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan
Press, 1995), 65-76.
35. Jean-Claude Beaune, L'Automate et ses mobiles (Paris: Flammarion, 1980),

173, (my translation).
36. For an analysis of the clock as the prototype for automatic machines and the
key machine of the modern industrial age, see Lewis Mumford, Technics and Civi-
lization (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1963), 14-18.
37. According to Gary Hatfield, the vegetative soul controls growth, nutrition,
and reproductive generation, while the sensitive soul governs sense perception,
appetites, and animal motion. Descartes grants the vegetative and sensitive souls to
animals alone. See "Descartes' Physiology and Its Relation to His Psychology," in
The Cambridge Companion to Descartes, ed. John Cottingham (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1992),344.
38. Stephen Gaukroger, Descartes: An Intellectual Biography (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1995),278.
39. Descartes, Oeuvres Philosophiques, 1:480.
40. See Leonora Cohen Rosenfeld's discussion of these Neoplatonic and mystical
traditions in the works of Henry Cornelius Agrippa and of Marcilio Ficino in From
Beast-Machine to Man-Machine: Animal Soul in French Letters from Descartes to
La Mettrie (New York: Octagon Books, 1968), xxiii-xxiv.
41. According to Descartes, the vegetative and sensitive souls should not be
called souls since they belong to an entirely different genus from the rational soul
(letter to Regius, PWD, 3:182).
42. In his letter to More, February 5, 1649, Descartes notes that animals possess
neither thought nor the ability to use speech (PWD, 3:366). In his letter to the mar-
quess of Newcastle, November 23, 1646, he explains that he differs with Montaigne,
who attributes thought to animals (PWD, 3:302).
43. See Descartes's letter to Plempius for Fromondus, October 3, 1637 (PWD,
3:62). For an analysis of La Mettrie's materialism, see Frederick Albert Lange's His-
tory of Materialism, trans. Ernest Chester Thomas (New York: Harcourt, Brace,
1925),49-91. For an analysis of Sade's materialism, see my discussion in chapter 5.
44. Gilbert Ryle, The Concept of Mind (New York: Hutchinson, 1969), chap. 1.
45. Jean-Pierre Seris, Languages et machines a /'age classique (Paris: Hachette,
1995),24 (my translation).
46. Seris refers to Descartes's letter to Henri More, February 5, 1649, which
states that "speech is the only certain sign of a thought hidden in a body" (PWD,
3:366). Hiram Caton, however, in The Origin of Subjectivity: An Essay on
Descartes (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1973), 99, argues that Descartes
should have posited thought, rather than speech, as the true distinction between men
and animals.
47. Descartes's use of "organs" in this context underlines the overlap between
the logic of the machine and that of the organism, be it human or animal.
48. See Descartes's comments in the Sixth Meditation and his Reply to the Sixth
Objection. See also his correspondence with Princess Elizabeth of Sweden, especially
letters of May 21 and June 28, 1643; by 1645 the question of the union of the mind
and the body becomes an inquiry into the passions. This discussion of the interaction
of the mind and the body attains its fullest elaboration in The Passions of the Soul
(completed 1645-46 and published in 1649).
49. My reading differs with Keith Gunderson's efforts to distinguish these two
tests as (1) the language test and (2) the action test. See his Mentality and Machines,
2d ed. (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1985), 8-17.
50. Cf. Barker, The Tremulous Private Body, 93-94.
Chapter 4
1. Harry Frankfurt has drawn our attention to the figures of demons, madmen,
and dreamers and their crucial function in Descartes's justification of reason, with-
out focusing specifically on the question of the body. See Demons, Madmen, and
Dreamers: The Defense of Reason in Descartes's Meditations (Indianapolis: Bobbs-
Merrill, 1970).
2. Gary Hatfield argues that Descartes relies not only on Loyola'S exercises,
which define the attainment of spirituality through sensory materials constructed by
the imagination, but also on the Augustinian tradition that relies on a skeptical
approach and the contemplation of thought. See "The Senses and the Fleshless Eye:
The Meditations as Cognitive Exercises," in Essays on Descartes's Meditations, ed.
Amelie Oksenberg Rorty (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986),48-54.
3. As I have suggested in an earlier study (Subjectivity and Representation in
Descartes, 173-81) that the theological arguments for the existence of God serve to
buttress Descartes's ontological arguments, in terms that concede the finitude of
human understanding only to emphasize the infinite perfectibility of human will as a
counterpart of the divine.
4. Drawing upon the writings Edmund Husser! and Maurice Mer!eau-Ponty,
Drew Leder has noted the role of the body as epistemological obstruction. See The
Absent Body (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 128-34.
5. These arguments and the critical debates that accompany them are elabo-
rated in detail in my analysis of the Meditations in Subjectivity and Representation
in Descartes, 137-83.
6. In his reply to the Seventh Objection, Descartes uses the metaphor of a bas-
ket from which he removes all apples in order to determine which ones are rotten
(HR, 2:282); d. Anthony Kenny, Descartes: A Study of His Philosophy (New York:
Random House, 1968), 18-19. The prohlem with this analogy is less the fact of call-
ing into question our beliefs (as Kenny suggests) than that in attempting to escape
deception engendered by the senses the Cartesian subject is willing to dispose of its
own embodied nature and give up its natural condition as a body.
7. Descartes's decisions not to publish The World and to publish the Discourse
on Method anonymously reflect his reaction to Galileo's condemnation by the
church for his expressed support of the Copernican hypothesis. At the beginning of
his Optics, Descartes discusses the discovery of lenses and their impact on the expan-
sion of our knowledge of nature (PWD, 1:152).
8. See Descartes's example in the Meditations of our two different ideas of the
sun. The first, derived through the senses (adventitious ideas) presents the sun as
extremely small, whereas the second, based on astronomical reasoning and instru-
mentation, presents the sun as several times larger than the earth (HR, 1:161).
9. For Michel Foucault, madness is inadmissible for the doubting subject, since
its exclusion and internment founds the advent of rational discourse (Folie et derai-
son: Histoire de la folie a /'age classique [Paris: Gallimard, 1972], 56-59).
10. These claims in the Discourse are far more radical, since they do away with
the body altogether rather than attempt to consider and enumerate the various forms
of deception entailed in madness and dreams.
11. Michel Foucault, in "My Body, This Paper, This Fire," Oxford Literary
Review 4, no. 1 (1979): 16, returns to this passage in his response to Derrida to
emphasize the centrality of madness for the Cartesian project.
12. The immediacy in question here is not merely that of sensory evidence, but of
the simulation of sensation, the illusion of immediacy staged by the performative
aspects of the text.
13. Descartes's examples of madness preponderantly involve instances of bodily
misperception or denial, suggesting that the issue is less madness per se (as Foucault
contends) than the body as its privileged object. For a critique of Foucault's position
in his debate with Derrida, see my "Derrida and Descartes: Economizing Thought,"
in Derrida and Deconstruction n, ed. Hugh J. Silverman (New York: Routledge and
Kegan Paul, 1989),40-58.
14. It is in this context that the radicality of dreams, as opposed to madness,
comes into view. Based on Martial Gueroult's position, Derrida will argue that it is
in the case of sleep and not that of madness that the absolute totality of ideas of sen-
sory origin becomes suspect. See his "Cogito and the History of Madness," in Writ-
ing and Difference, trans. Allan Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978),
51.
15. For Norman Malcolm the question of whether one is awake or dreaming is
quite senseless to the extent that it would imply making judgments during dreams.
See Dreaming (London: Routledge, 1959), 109.
16. Descartes's search for simples, as opposed to composites, here echoes the
principles of the method announced in the Discourse. His discussion is patterned on
his positing of color as the universal substrate of both dreams and painted represen-
tations. Cf. Caton, The Origin of Subjectivity, 115.
17. For a discussion of the passage from a deceptive God to the evil genius, see
Caton, The Origin of Subjectivity, 118-21.
18. Martial Gueroult observes that hyperbolic doubt differs from skeptical
doubt insofar as it proceeds not from the reality of things, but from the resolution to
doubt everything. See Descartes' Philosophy Interpreted According to the Order of
Reasons, trans. Roger Ariew, 2 vols. (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
1984-85),1:20-21.
19. According to Gueroult, this metaphysical doubt attacks not merely natural
doubt, but also the intrinsic objective validity of clear and distinct ideas, and as such
is even contrary to the "nature of our mind" (Descartes' Philosophy, 1:21).
20. Cf. Derrida's analysis in "Cogito and Madness," 53.

21. Descartes's claims regarding the weakness of memory echo his earlier com-
ments in the Rules (HR, 1:13-14,33-34).
22. The inferential logic of the cogito as elaborated in the Discourse is no longer
at issue, since thought does not function here as a founding premise. For a discussion
of the inferential and performative aspects of the cogito, see Jaakko Hintikka, "Cog-
ito, Ergo Sum: Inference or Performance?" in Descartes: A Collection of Critical
Essays, ed.Wiliis Doney (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1968),
108-39.
23. Frankfurt claims that a premise entailing sum is necessarily when the reason-
ableness of asserting sum becomes a question (Demons, Madmen, and Dreamers,
111-12).
24. The statement "I am, I exist" does not elucidate the character of the medi-
tating subject; it merely affirms the capacity of any subject to constitute itself
through its locutionary position within language (Judovitz, Subiectivity and Repre-
sentation in Descartes, 162-67).
25. In the Cartesian dialogue in The Search after Truth, Eudoxus labels Aristo-
tle's definition of man as a rational animal a "metaphysical maze," since the absence
of knowledge regarding the prior meaning of these terms leads to interminable
inquiry and may even lapse into tautology (HR, 1:317).
26. For a discussion of thought in the context of the sum argument, see Kenny's
Descartes, 65-70. See also Norman Malcolm, "Descartes's Proof That His Essence
Is Thinking," in Doney, Descartes, 312-37.
27. Frankfurt underlines the fact that the cogito, or any such equivalent state-
ment, does not appear anywhere in the Meditations (Demons, Dreamers and Mad-
men, 92). See also L. ]. Beck's comments in The Metaphysics of Descartes: A Study
of the Meditations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965), 77-92.
28. It is interesting to note that Descartes will provide two different versions
regarding the content of his definition that he is a thinking thing (sum res cogitans).
29. Caton points out that Descartes's first definition of the sum res cogitans
argument excludes both imagination and sensation (The Origin of Subjectivity,
144-47).
30. Kenny draws attention to Descartes's Replies to underline the fact that in the
Second Meditation Descartes does not claim that there is nothing corporeal in the
soul, but simply that nothing corporeal is known to exist in it (Descartes, 88).
31. Gaukroger, Descartes, 349-50.
32. Gueroult, Descartes' Philosophy, 44-47. Caton interprets Descartes's posi-
tion as a methodological answer to the ontological question of what the mind is,
"which construes the being of mind in terms of its respective cognitive relations
towards the world (its modes of thought)" (The Origin of Subjectivity, 150).
33. Daniel Garber considers the wax argument to be a foretaste of Descartes's
full doctrine of the body, especially as regards the idea of bodies as extended things
(Descartes' Metaphysical Physics. [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992),
78).
34. It is important to note that the wax shows up earlier in Descartes's writings,
specifically in the Rules, where the wax-and-seal analogy is a metaphor for the pas-
sive and receptive character of the senses (HR, 1:38).
35. In his reply to Hobbes, Descartes explains that he does not consider the per-
ceptual qualities of the wax to belong to the formal nature of the wax itself (HR,
2:63).
36. This becomes the abiding sameness or essence of the wax that is independent
of its experiential qualities. Caton observes that this argument will lead to the con-
clusion that both the body and the mind can only be known "supersensibly" (The
Origin of Subjectivity, 153-55).
37. Descartes's critique of the reliability of the senses and the imagination was
the focus of my earlier essay, "Vision, Representation, and Technology in
Descartes," in Modernity and the Hegemony of Vision, ed. David Michael Levin
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 74-80.
38. For a comprehensive historical and analytical account of vision and its elab-
oration in Descartes, see Martin Jay, "The Noblest of the Senses: Vision from Plato
to Descartes," in Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century
French Thought (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993),21-82. For a philo-
sophical critique of Cartesian vision, see Maurice Merleau-Ponty, "Eye and Mind,"
in The Primacy of Perception, ed. James M. Edie, trans. Carleton Dallery (Evanston:
Northwestern University Press, 1964), 159-90.
39. For a detailed analysis of Descartes's critique of vision and the transposition
of its properties to the mental domain, see my "Vision, Representation, and Tech-
nology in Descartes," 63-84.
40. Alain Vizier mentions this digressive passage as an instance of Descartes's
dismissal of the exterior and exteriority as a form of sensorial knowledge. See
"Descartes et les automates," Modern Language Notes 3 (1996): 693-94.
41. Gassendi observes, in his Reply to the Fourth Objection, that to strip a sub-
stance of those attributes by which we apprehend it is to destroy our knowledge of
it (HR, 2:98-99). Descartes acknowledges Gassendi's objection in his letter to
Clerselier (HR, 2:134).
42. See Augustine's comments on Ambrose's introspective reading of the Bible
(book 6) and on memory and the mind (book 10), in Confessions, trans. R. S. Coffin
(London: Penguin, 1961).
43. See Montaigne's essay "Of Experience" and the analysis of it in chapter l.
44. Merleau-Ponty, Visible and Invisible, 234.
45. Cf. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, "The Body as Expression and Speech," in The
Phenomenology of Perception, trans. Colin Smith (London: Routledge and Kegan
Paul, 1995), 174-99; see also Leder's discussion of language, thought, and the body
in The Absent Body, 121-25.
46. For an eloquent critique of this position, see Jean-Fran~ois Lyotard, "Can
Thought Go On without a Body?" in The Inhuman: Reflections on Time, trans.
Geoffrey Bennington and Rachel Bowlby (Stanford: Stanford University Press,
1991),8-23.
47. Garber notes that in the Sixth Meditation, the commonsense, sensual bodies
that appear earlier in the Meditations have been replaced by the lean, spare objects
of geometry (Descartes's Metaphysical Physics, 75-76).
48. In reference to the Fifth Meditation, Garber observes that Descartes's focus
on the geometrical features of the body is the capacity to perform proofs about them
(Descartes's Metaphysical Physics, 81).
49. For a general examination of the role of imagination in Descartes's works,
see Jean H. Roy, L'Imagination selon Descartes (Paris: Gallimard, 1944).
50. Given that the first example of a body provided by Descartes is that of a chil-
iagon, a mathematical object, there is a question as to the precise meaning of
"body." Caton also notes that the "body" to which imagination turns remains a
mystery (The Origin of Subjectivity, 162).
51. Commenting on the Sixth Meditation, Gassendi reproaches Descartes for
attempting to distinguish imagination from intellection, because for him these two
are the actions of one and the same faculty, rather than types of internal cognition
(HR, 2:190-91). Descartes replies by reaffirming their distinctness as "wholly
diverse modes of operation," for in thinking the mind employs itself alone, whereas
in imagining it contemplates a corporeal form (HR, 2:229).
52. It is important to note that Descartes deliberately chose not an ordinary
object, but a virtual one, in order to demonstrate the capacity of the mind to hypoth-
esize in the context of mathematical schematism, as a way of underlining the imagi-
nation's figurative failure to attain such schematization.
53. Caton presents the imagination and the understanding as equal modes of
applying the same power of knowledge or mind (The Origin of Subjectivity,
161-62). However, this modal interpretation overlooks Descartes's explicit privileg-
ing of the understanding over the imagination, which is necessary in order to main-
tain the virtual nature of Cartesian rationality.
54. Dennis L. Sepper examines the relation between the imagination and inge-
nium in order to argue for the centrality of the imagination in Descartes's early writ-
ings and its subsequent abandonment. See" Ingenium, Memory Art, and the Unity
of Imaginative Knowing," in Essays on the Philosophy and Science of Rene
Descartes, ed. Stephen Voss (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 142-57.
55. We must keep in mind Gassendi's query to Descartes, regarding the fact that
the mind may be unable to turn toward itself or toward any idea, without turning
toward something corporeal or represented by corporeal ideas (HR, 2:192).
56. In the Fifth Objection Gassendi recognizes that the senses may lead some-
times to error, but he wonders whether such error is sufficient to renounce all sen-
sory perception (HR, 2: 193). Also compare Leder's analysis of the body as a site of
error and dysfunction (The Absent Body, 131-32).
57. Merleau-Ponty argues that perceptual "synthesis" has to be incomplete,
since it cannot present a "reality" other than by running the risk of error (The Phe-
nomenology of Perception, 377).
58. For Montaigne, it is precisely the diversity and multiplicity of experience that
constitute its universality ("Of Experience," Essays, III, 13: 815).
59. Leder considers Cartesian epistemology to be a motivated misreading, inso-

far as its conclusions are motivated by lived experience, albeit misread into a reified
ontology (The Absent Body, 132).
60. John W. Yolton presents Descartes's critique of perception in the context of
his larger critique of resemblance (the lack of similarity between felt experience and
physical causes) and his elaboration of perception in the mode of signs. See Percep-
tual Acquaintance from Descartes to Reid (Minneapolis; University of Minnesota
Press, 1984),22-25.
61. Gassendi objects to Descartes's example, since he claims that in individuals
who have suffered no bodily loss, pain indubitably references the body (HR, 2;193).
62. Cf. Merleau-Ponty's discussion in The Phenomenology of Perception,
85-86.
63. This conclusion is reiterated in Descartes's last work, The Passions of the
Soul (pt. 1, art. 30), where he observes that although the soul is joined to the whole
body, "it is of a nature that has no relation to extension, nor dimensions, nor other
properties of matter of which the body is composed" (HR, 1;345).
64. In his "Synopsis" of the Meditations, Descartes restates the difference
between the mind and the body; whereas the human mind is pure substance unaf-
fected by accidents, the body is defined by accidents and may lose its identity as a
result of change in the sum of its parts. He concludes that this difference in nature
may explain why the body perishes, as opposed to the immortality of the mind (HR,
2:141).
65. According to John Cottingham, Descartes's incorporeality thesis may reflect
the religious dictates of the time, which required the immortality of the soul. See
"Cartesian Dualism; Theology, Metaphysics, and Science," in Cambridge Compan-
ion to Descartes, 237-41.
66. According to Beck, Descartes's dualistic thesis regarding the radical separa-
tion of the mind and the body and the effort to subsequently explain their interac-
tion has left an insoluble problem to his successors, as witnessed by the occasional
causes of Malebranche, the parallelism of Spinoza, and the preestablished harmony
of Leibniz (The Metaphysics of Descartes, 269-76).
67. Descartes will reiterate this argument for substantial union in his letter to
Arnauld (July 29, 1648), as well as later in the Principles of Philosophy, pt. 1, art.
48 (HR, 2:238) and pt. 2, art. 3 (HR, 1:255). For a general discussion of this ques-
tion, see Beck, The Metaphysics of Descartes, 262-80.
68. Despite Descartes's explicit attempt to refute this Platonic doctrine, insofar
as his argument maintains that nothing corporeal belongs to the essence of man and
hence is defined entirely as spirit, it follows, Arnauld contends, that man is a spirit
who makes use of the body (HR, 2:84).
69. We should keep in mind Descartes's clarification in the Principles regarding
the mistaken belief that pain is located in various parts of the body (pt. 1, art. 67;
HR, 1:247). As Ruth Mattern points out, both in the Meditations and the Principles
Descartes is committed to a physiological account of the mind as located in the brain
and not diffused throughout the body. See "Descartes's Correspondence with Eliza-
beth: Conceiving Both the Union and Distinction of the Mind and Body," in
Descartes: Critical and Interpretative Essays, ed. Michael Hooker (Baltimore: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1978), 217-19.
70. In his reply to the Fifth Objection, Descartes affirms the union, but not the
coextensive nature, of the mind with the body: "though the mind is united with the
whole body, it does not follow that it itself is extended throughout the body" (HR,
2:232).
71. As Descartes himself admits in his letter to Elizabeth (June 28, 1643), it is
difficult for the human mind to conceive at the same time the distinction between the
mind and the body and their union (PWD, 3:227).
72. In the Fourth Objection, Arnauld observes that Descartes's distinction and
separation of the mind and the body is so radical as to make it difficult to rejoin them
(HR, 2:84-85). Rather than addressing directly Arnauld's objection, Descartes
replies by noting that his proof for substantial union does not preclude having a
clear and distinct idea of the mind on its own (HR, 2:102-3).
73. Cf. Genevieve Rodis-Lewis's critique, "Limitations of the Mechanical Model
in the Cartesian Conception of the Organism," in Hooker, Descartes, 152-65;
reprinted and revised in L'Anthropologie cartesienne (Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France, 1990), 149-67.
74. Descartes's invocation of memory is all the more surprising given his earlier
critiques in his correspondence, the Rules, and the Discourse, critiques of both the
tradition of the arts of memory, and memory as a faculty (Judovitz, Subjectivity and
Representation in Descartes, 26-32, 59-60, 68-73).
75. For a critique of Descartes's notion of temporality and its instantaneous
character, see Jean Wahl, Du role de I'idee de I'instant dans la philosophie de
Descartes (Paris: Alcan, 1920).
76. Martin Heidegger noted Descartes's exclusion of temporality, other than
that defined by the present of the presence-at-hand, in Being and Time, trans.
John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (New York: Harper and Row, 1962),
129.
77. Tom Conley notes that Gilles Deleuze's interpretation of Leibnizian mon-
adology suggests that Leibniz resolves Cartesian mind-body dualism through physi-
cal means grasped as foldings, without recourse to occasionalism or parallelism. See
his remarks introductory to The Fold, xii. For Deleuze's detailed analysis, see 5-26,
85-99, 126-37.
Chapter 5
1. A preliminary version of some of the ideas elaborated in this chapter was pre-
sented as a paper to the North American Association for Seventeenth Century
French Literature Conference, at Wake Forest University, March 1987, and pub-
lished as "Royal Power or The Social Body in Corneille," in Actes de Wake Forest,
ed. Milorad R. Margitic and Byron R. Wells, ColI. Biblio 17, no. 37 (Tiibingen:
Papers on Seventeenth Century Literature, 1987), 59-73.
2. These comments were published anonymously in a pamphlet entitled Le

Jugement du Cid, Compose par un Bourgeois de Paris, Marguiller de sa Paroisse,
but are attributed to Charles Sorel, one of France's earliest literary critics. See
Armand GastC's reprint in La Querelle du Cid (Paris: H. Welter, 1899),230-40, and
his discussion of his attribution to Sorel in his introduction, 51-55.
3. For the prevalence of blood, in particular, as a significant metaphor in French
seventeenth-century literature, see Clifton Cherpack, The Call of Blood in French
Classical Tragedy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1958).
4. See Scudery's Observations sur Ie Cid, 71-111; and also Chapelain's Les
Sentiments de l'Academie Franr;oise sur la Tragi-Comedie du Cid, 355-417, both
reprinted in the Gaste edition, La Querelle du Cid. The extensive debates surround-
ing the performance and publication of the play present a unique occasion to assess
the reception of Corneillian figurative language by his contemporaries.
5. All translations of Le Cid are from Pierre Corneille, The Cid, Cinna, The
Theatrical Illusion, trans. John Cairncross (New York: Penguin Books, 1975). Quo-
tations of the French text are from the 1660 edition of Le Cid, in Theatre choisi de
Corneille, ed. Maurice Rat (Paris: Garnier Freres, 1961). Unlike John Cairncross
who hispanicizes Chimene's and Rodrigue's names in his translation, I have kept to
the French original.
6. See GastC's reprint of Sorel's pamphlet, trans. Patrick Wheeler, in La
Querelle du Cid, 238.
7. For an analysis of class structures and political conflicts in the seventeenth
century, see Robert Mandrou, Introduction a la France moderne, 1500-1640: Essai
de psychologie historique (Paris: Albin Michel, 1974), 142-91.
8. Jacques Ehrmann, "Structures of Exchange in Cinna," Yale French Studies
36/37 (1965): 169-99.
9. Serge Doubrovsky, Corneille ou la dialectique du heros (Paris: Gallimard,
1963),92-97.
10. Cf. Leonard Barkin's discussion of the anthropomorphic vision of the com-
monwealth in Nature's Work of Art: The Human Body as Image of the World (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1975), 61-115. Barkin's analysis, however, does not
explicitly deal with the transformation of the body as a function of different systems
of social exchange, feudal or mercantile.
11. This analysis draws on Ernst Kantorowicz's groundbreaking work The
King's Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1957), 119-50.
12. For an analysis of the aristocratic ethos of The Cid, see Milorad R. Margitic,
Essai sur fa mythologie du Cid, Romance Monographs (Oxford: University of Mis-
sissippi, 1976),25-52.
13. Sec Sorel's comments in the Gaste edition, La Querelle du Cid, 237.
14. Jean Starobinski, L'Oeil vivant (Paris: Gallimard, 1961), 65, emphasis
added; trans. Patrick Wheeler.
15. See Kantorowicz's definition of the king as a "twinned person" (The King's
Two Bodies, ] 41).
16. Mitchell Greenberg examines the role of genealogy in Corneille insofar as it

functions to create man as a transhistorical essence: "It imposes a metaphorical
essence (masculinity) on a metonymical (biological) displacement. It is this shift from
metonymy to metaphor in genealogy that allows Patriarchy to exist as history and
yet to transcend the historical moment." See "Stage Whispers: Corneille's Abso-
lutism," in Les Contes de Perrault: La contestation et ses limites; Furetiere, Actes de
Banff, ed. M. Bareau, J. Barchillon, D. Stanton, and J. Alter (Paris: Biblio 17/30,
1987),170.
17. See Anne Ubers£eld's analysis of the decline of royalty and the concomitant
erasure of the female body, "Corneille: Du roi au tyran, un itineraire," in Margitic
and Wells, Actes de Wake Forest. 13-39.
18. Ubersfeld, "Corneille," 22-23.
19. This appeal to the state reflects the increasing centralization of nobiliary
power under the auspices of kingship in the early seventeenth century in France.
20. Greenberg interprets Chimene's claims to justice as the expression of a sup-
pressed maternal register ("Stage Whispers," 174-77).
21. For an analysis of the paradoxes of kingship in the French seventeenth-cen-
tury context, see Jean-Marie Apostolides, Le Prince sacrifie: Theatre et politique au
temps de Louis XIV (Paris: Minuit, 1985), 11-53, 60-63.
22. Greenberg suggests that marriage is the real conundrum of the play ("Stage
Whispers," 171).
23. Cf. Jean-Claude Joye, Amour, pouvoir et transcendance chez Pierre Corneille
(Berne: Peter Lang, 1986), particularly chap. 1, "A propos du Cid: Reflections sur
certains aspects de la condition feminine et de I'image de la femme," 13-35.
24. The English translation of this passage does not fully communicate the pre-
ponderance of juridical terms that are used by Corneille in this passage.
25. Pierre Corneille, Examen de 1660, trans. Patrick Wheeler, reprinted in
Gaste, La Querelle du Cid, 139.
26. Barker, The Tremulous Private Budy, 103.
27. It is interesting to note that later classical dramatists such as Jean Racine,
who seek to affirm desire as a form of individual expression, do so only at the price
of the mortification and sacrifice of the physical body. In Phedre (1677), desire plays
a redemptive role reclaiming, through the sacrificial death of the body, the rights of
subjective expression before the law.
28. Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan. ed. Michael Oakeshott (Oxford: Basil Black-
well, 1960); also cited and discussed by Barkin, Nature's Work of Art, 114.
Chapter 6
1. See my discussion in chapter 4.

2. Aram Vartanian, Diderot and Descartes: A Study of Scientific Naturalism in
the Enlightenment (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953), 10.
3. Fran~ois Poullain de la Barre, De /'egalite de deux sexes: Discours physique
et moral (Paris, 1673), 59.
4. For an analysis of the post-Enlightenment legacy of this neutrality and the

neuter as it references the notion of being in Martin Heidegger's elaboration of
dasein, see Jacques Derrida's discussion in "Geschlecht: Difference sexuelle, dif-
ference ontologique," in Psyche: Inventions de I'autre (Paris: Galilee, 1987),
395-407.
5. According to Thomas Laqueur, "An anatomy and physiology of incommen-
surability replaced a metaphysics of hierarchy in the representation of women to
men." See "Orgasm, Generation, and the Politics of Reproductive Biology," in The
Making of the Modern Body: Sexuality and Society in the Nineteenth Century, ed.
Catherine Gallagher and Thomas Laqueur (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1987),3.
6. For a historical and philosophical account of materialism in France in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, see Lange's groundbreaking study The History
of Materialism, bk. 1, 12-32; 49-123; 253-69.
7. Vartanian convincingly argues that Descartes's natural philosophy and the
conception of science it entailed made possible the genesis and development of sci-
entific naturalism (Diderot and Descartes, 3-8).
8. My analysis differs from Kathleen Wellman's claims regarding La Mettrie's
ironic use of Descartes and his putative success in overcoming Cartesian dualism. See
La Mettrie: Medicine, Philosophy, and the Enlightenment (Durham, N.C.: Duke
University Press, 1992), 181-84.
9. La Mettrie, Man a Machine and Man a Plant, trans. Richard A. Watson and
Maya Rybalka, intro. Justin Leiber (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1994) (henceforth abbre-
viated MM), 63. Please note that the numeration here does not indicate page num-
bers, but refers to the section numbers on the sides of the text that designate the
pages in the original Berlin edition of 1751.
10. While recognizing the power of embodiment associated with the faculty of
the imagination, Montaigne does not equate it with the sou!.
11. This insistence on the imagination as a constitutive element for the develop-
ment of intellectual genius can also be seen in a variety of nineteenth-century works:
in Villiers de I'Isie Adam's L'Eve Future, Friedrich Schiller's Aesthetic Education of
Man, or the writings of Samuel Coleridge, particularly in the Biographia Literaria,
to name but a few.
12. For an analysis of issues of gender difference in medical illustrations of the
eighteenth century, see Londa Schiebinger, "Skeletons in the Closet: Illustrations of
the Female Skeleton in Eighteenth Century Anatomy," in Gallagher and Laqueur,
Making of Modern Body, 42-82.
13. As Laqueur points out, by the end of the eighteenth century medical science
ceases to regard female orgasm as relevant to generation ("Orgasm, Generation," 1).
14. La Mettrie's account contradicts the ancient Galenic-Hippocratic two-seed
model of conception linked to both male and female orgasm (Laqueur, "Orgasm,
Generation," 5-8).
15. Karl Stern, The Flight from Woman (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux,
1965), 104; and Susan Bordo, "The Cartesian Masculinization of Thought and the
Seventeenth-Century Flight from the Feminine," in The Flight to Objectivity: Essays

on Cartesianism and Culture (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987),
97-118.
16. Stern, The Flight from Woman, 104.
17. Bordo, The Flight to Objectivity, 99.
18. Merchant, The Death of Nature, 4-16. Bordo interprets this flight from the
feminine and the "Cartesian masculinization of thought" in terms of both his mech-
anist reconstruction of the world and the objectivist reconstruction of knowledge
(The Flight to Objectivity, 101).
19. Vartanian, Diderot and Descartes, 205.
20. While eighteenth-century thinkers such as La Mettrie and Diderot will chal-
lenge the metaphysical principles of Descartes's thought, their materialist and
empiricist orientation will leave intact his scientific method.
21. Wellman stresses La Mettrie's emphasis on empirical demonstration, on the
authority of the physician over the metaphysician and theologian (La Mettrie, 185).
Chapter 7
1. Charles Baudelaire, "Projets et notes diverses," in Oeuvres completes (Paris:

Seuil, 1968), 705.
2. For Georges Bataille's writings on Sade, see "L'Homme souverain de Sade"
and "Sade et l'homme normal," in L'Erotisme (Paris: Minuit, 1957), and "Sade," in
La Litterature et Ie mal (Paris: Gallimard, 1957); also see Pierre Klossowski, Sade
mon prochain (Paris: Seuil, 1967); and Maurice Blanchot, Lautreamont et Sade
(Paris: Union gent!rale d'Editions, 1967). For a general account of these three major
contributors, see Jane Gallop, Intersections: A Reading of Sade with Bataille, Blan-
chot, and Klossowski (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1981).
3. Michel Foucault, "A Preface to Transgression," in Language, Counter-Mem-
ory, Practice, 31.
4. See Foucault's comments on representation in Les Mots et les choses, 60-91.
5. Marquis de Sade, "Reflections on the Novel," in The Marquis de Sade: The
120 Days of Sodom and Other Writings, compiled and trans. Austryn Wainhouse
and Richard Seaver (New York: Grove Press, 1966), 97.
6. Aristotle observes, "Fear and pity can be caused by the spectacle or by the
plot structure itself" ("The Poetics," in On Poetry and Style, trans. G. M. A. Grube
[New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1979],26). Aristotle's partiality for plot as the favored
vehicle for eliciting emotion is parodied by Sade's exaggerated plots.
7. Sade, "Reflections on the Novel," 115-16.
8. Villeterque's review of Les Crimes de ['Amour first appeared in Le Journal
des Arts, des Sciences, et de la litterature, October 22, 1800,281-84, reprinted as
"Villeterque's Review of Les Crimes de [,amour," in Sade, Marquis de Sade, 117-19;
Sade's response appears in the same volume, "The Author of Les Crimes de ['amour
to Villeterque, Hack Writer," 121-29.
9. Sade, "Villeterque, Hack Writer," 128.
10. Sade, "Villeterque, Hack Writer," 129.

11. Maurice Blanchot, "Sade," a reprint of a section of Lautreamont et Sade, in
Sade, The Complete Justine, Philosophy in the Bedroom, and Other Writings, trans.
Richard Seaver and Austryn Wainhouse (New York: Grove Press, 1965), 57.
12. Marquis de Sade, Les Infortunes de la vertu (Paris: Garnier-Flammarion,
1969), 75.
13. Marcel Henaff, Sade: L'invention du corps libertin (Paris: Presses Universi-
taires de France, 1978),205. Instead of an industrial model, I have chosen to use
here a mercantile model, which describes more adequately concepts of social
exchange and production.
14. Sade, Les Infortunes de la vertu, 123.
15. "Language to Infinity," in Language, Counter-Memory, Practice, 62.
16. For a general analysis of the writings and trends of thought of the Enlighten-
ment, see Daniel Mornet, La Pensee frant;aise au XVIlIe siixle (Paris: Colin, 1965).
17. Philippe Sollers, "Sade dans Ie texte," Tel Quel28 (1967): 44.
18. Michel Tort, "L'Effet Sade," Tel Quel28 (1967): 78.
19. Marquis de Sade, "Philosophy in the Bedroom" (henceforth abbreviated
PB), in Complete Justine, 203.
20. For a comprehensive analysis of the role of vision in the eighteenth century,
see Jay, Downcast Eyes, 83-113.
21. For a distinction between the lyrical body and Sade's corps a la leure, see
Henaff, Sade, 23-26.
22. Sade's critique of the notion of foundational difference anticipates Martin
Heidegger's definition of "ontological difference," understood as the "differentia-
tion of beings and Being," in Nietzsche, vol. 4, Nihilism, ed. David F. Krell, trans.
Frank A. Capuzzi (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1982), 153-55.
23. Jean Fabre suggests that Sade's concept of nature founds a new tradition that
must be distinguished from the classical interpretations of nature. See Idees sur Ie
roman: De Madame de Lafayette aMarquis de Sade (Paris: Klincksieck, 1979), 187.
24. For an interpretation of Sade's writing as escape from physical detention, see
Beatrice Didier, Sade: Une ecriture du desir (Paris: Denoel-Gonthier, 1976).
25. Sade, Eughzie de Franval, in Complete Justine, 119.
26. For an analysis of incest and its relation to poetic practice in Sade's works,
see Josue V. Harari, Scenarios of the Imaginary (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University
Press, 1987), 172-87.
27. Marquis de Sade, Oeuvres completes (Paris: Pauvert, 1956-70),9:569.
28. Henaff, Sa de, 44-48.
29. Cf. Barthes's comment that the crime of incest involves a transgression of
semantic rules, by creating homonymy: it makes "one signified receive simultane-
ously several signifiers that are traditionally distinct." This leads him to conclude
that transgression is merely a linguistic ploy, one of naming outside lexical divisions:
the "act contra-naturum is exhausted in an utterance of counter-language." See
Sade, Fourier, Loyola (Paris: Seuil, 1971), 137-38.
30. For a discussion of Sade's interpretation of nature in relation to d'Holbach
and Helvetius, see Pierre Naville, "Sade et la philosophie," in Oeuvres completes du

Marquis de Sade, ed. Gilbert Lely, vol. 11 (Paris: Au Cercle du Livre precieux,
1962-64).
31. Blanchot suggests that Sade's struggle with nature represents a more
advanced dialectical stage than his struggle with God, since by showing that the
notion of nothingness or non being belongs to the world, "one cannot conceive of the
world's nonbeing except from within a totality, which is still the world" (in Sade,
Complete Justine, 63).
32. Cited by Pierre Klossowski, "Nature as a Destructive Principle," in Sade,
Marquis de Sade, 72-73.
33. Barthes distinguishes the conventions of the social and realistic novel from
the conventions of the Sadean novel, which is the "repeated production of a practice
(and not of an historical 'picture')" (Sade, Fourier, Loyola, 131).
34. Foucault, "A Preface to Transgression," 35.
35. Sade, "Reflections on the Novel," 110-11.
36. Barthes describes this gesture of sewing in Sade as follows: "To sew is finally
to remake a world without sewing, to return to the divinely cut-up body-whose
cut-up state is the source of all Sa dean pleasure-to the abjection of the smooth
body, the total body" (Sade, Fourier, Loyola, 169).
37. Sade, Les Infortunes de la vertu, 184.
38. Sollers, "Sade dans Ie texte," 38.
39. Simone de Beauvoir, "Must We Burn Sade?" in Sade, Marquis de Sade, 33.
40. Foucault, The History of Sexuality, 1: 149.
Conclusion
1. Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Balti-

more: Penguin Books, 1968), 101.
2. It is important to note in this context that Nietzsche's interpretation of the
body also involves notions of force, both active and reactive. See Gilles Deleuze's
comments in Nietzsche and Philosophy, trans. Hugh Tomlinson (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1983), 39-44.
3. The scriptorial model elaborated in chapters 1 and 2 suggests that the pre-
sentation of the lived, perceiving body is framed by linguistic and representational
concerns that decenter through their impersonal character a humanist interpretation
of the subject. It is precisely this shift between humanism and posthumanism that
marks Merleau-Ponry's late thought as he engages with linguistics and psychoanaly-
sis in order to move beyond a phenomenological understanding of the body, by con-
sidering its embodiment and embedded ness in the world. Sec his Prose of the World,
ed. Claude Lefort, trans. John O'Neill (Evanston: Northwestern University Press,
1973).
4. Emmanuel Levinas, "Time and the Other," in The Leuinas Reader, ed. and
intro. Sean Hand (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989), 38-58.
5. Although Bruce Mazlish convincingly argues for the coevolution of humans

and machines, it is clear that these mechanical analogies are challenged by new
developments that involve an understanding of living organisms based on informa-
tion models, or the use of actual biological organisms as sophisticated computa-
tional devices. See The Fourth Dimension: The Co-Evolution of Humans and
Machines (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993).
6. Canguilhem notes that developments in contemporary biology understand
biological heredity as the communication of information. This implies dropping the
vocabulary and conceptual principles of classical mechanics for new models based
on linguistics and communication theory (A Vital Rationalist, 316-17).
7. However, by devising the test of the human and the machine in terms of lan-
guage and representation, Descartes foreshadows the possibility of a linguistic model
whose logic would supersede mechanics, redefining the machine itself as an infor-
mational device.
8. Merleau-Ponty, The Phenomenology of Perception, 408.
9. In his note "Flesh of the World-Flesh of the Body-Being" (May 1960),
Merleau-Ponty explains that while the "flesh" of the body is self-sensing, the flesh of
the world is "sensible and not sentient." He emphasizes that it is by the flesh of the
world that one can understand the lived body (Visible and Invisible, 248-50).
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Index
absolutism, 128-29 Astrea (d'Urfe), 41-64

Aesop, 19, 182n. 14 allegory in, 46, 47-48, 55-56, 57,
Aesthetic Education of Man (Schiller), 61,64
205n.11 anagrams in, 50-57, 189n. 34
agency Astrea disguised as shepherdess, 47
and death, 183n. 24 and authority of the author, 46
Descartes on, 78, 104 body as material surface in, 54-55
as disengaged from body, 134- Celadon's and Astrea's correspon-
35 dence, 55-56
Alciati, Andrea, Emblematum fiber, Celadon disguised as Alexis, 46, 58,
188n. 16 59-60
Alquie, Ferdinand, 78 Celadon disguised as Orithie, 59
animals Celadon'slHylas's love verses, 52-53
Descartes on, 78, 195n. 37, 195nn. Celadon's suicide attempt, 53
41-42 clothing, 62-64, 191n. 50, 191nn.
as lacking souls/consciousness, 72, 52-53
137-38 emblematic character of, 42, 43-44,
vs. man, 137-38,141,158-59 50,57,62,64
vegetative souls of, 78,137, 195n. female friendship, 59-60
37,195nn.41-42 fetishism in, 62
apparent vs. real world, 170-71 fountain of love's truth, 47-49,
Aquinas, Thomas, 24, 72 189n.31
architect as model, 71, 193n. 17 heterosexual love, 9
Aristotle hyperbole in, 56-57
on the heart, 70 identity in, 61, 62-63, 190-91n. 49
on mechanistic model of body, 193n. image/language, 10, 49-57
18 landscape,43-44,46-47,54-55,
Metaphysics, 18 188n.22
on the organon, 72 language's instability, 52-53, 56-57
on plot, 149, 206n. 6 Lignon/water, 45-47,53-54, 189n.
Poetics, 149, 206n. 6 27
on universality of reason vs. contin- looking/reading in, 46-47
gency of experience, 18 love's ambiguity/instability, 51, 53
on women's passivity, 185n. 49 on Platonism, 47-48, 189n. 28
Arnauld, Antoine, 98, 103, 201n. 68, popularity of, 41
202n. 72 publication of, 186n. 1
224 • Index
Astrea (d'Urfe) (continued) as paradigm of body, 69

sexuality in, 57-64, 190n. 42 See also The Cid; Discourse on
Silvandre and Echo, 51-52 Method; Treatise on Man
Silvandre finds letters, 56-57 body
transvestism/disguise, 41, 57-59, critical literature on, 1, 179n. 1
61-63, 190n.45, 191n.54 definitions of, 172
visuaUlinguistic disgu ise in, 58-59, scriptorial account of, 4-5,17,173,
190n.46 174,208n.3
Augustine, 159 secularization of, 74, 194n. 27
Confessions, 97 virtualized vs. lived, 169-70, 173
See also under individual works
Balzac, Guez de, 15 body politic, 109, 111, 117, 120-21,
Balzac, Honore de, Eugenie Grandet, 122-23, 128-29, 130
188n.23 Boileau, Nicolas, 162
Barker, Francis, 96, 128-29 Bordo, Susan, 144,206n. 18
Baro, Balthazar, 186n. 1 Bowen, Barbara c., 183n. 29,
baroque style/worldview 185n.47
cosmology of, 187n. 10 breathing/secularization of body, 74,
disguise, 59 194n.27
and epistemic rupture, 191-92n. 2 Buci-Glucksmann, Christina, 187nn.
French art, historical approach to, 42 10-11
historical character of, 42-43, 187n. Butier, Judith, 8-9
9
microcosm/macrocosm in, 70 Canguilhem, Georges, 73, 74, 193n.
as painterly, 42, 43, 188n. 20 15,209n.6
as philosophical worldview, 42, Cartesianism. See Descartes, Rene
187n.l0 Caton, Hiram, 195n. 46, 198n. 29,
and vision, 42-43, 187n. 11 198n.32, 199n. 36,200n.50,
and water, 189n. 25 200n.53
Barthes, Roland, 207n. 29, 208n. 33 Caus, Salomon de, Les Raisons des
Bataille, Georges, 147, 163-64 forces mouvantes avec diverses
Baudelaire, Charles, 147 machines, 194n. 30
Baudrillard, Jean, 71 Cave, Terence, 28, 186n. 63
Beaune, Jean-Claude, 77 certitude, 7, 16-17
Beauvoir, Simone de, 155 Cervantes, Miguel de, 189n. 26
Beck, L. J., 201n. 66 Chapelain, Andre, 110
being, 5, 37-38 The Cid (Corneille), 109-30
Benjamin, Walter, The Origin of Ger- blood in, 109, 110, 112, 121
man Tragic Drama, 42-43, Chimene demands justice, 119-22,
187-88n. 14 125, 127, 204n. 20
Biographia Literaria (Coleridge), 205n. death in, 122-23
11 vs. Descartes's Discourse on Method,
biology, 135-36, 209n. 6 109, 130
Blanchot, Maurice, 151, 163-64, 208n. exchange/value in, 111-12, 114,
31 115-18, 120, 126-27, 128, 130
blood female body excluded from, 116-17
discovery of circulation of, 69-70, genealogy/paternity in, 116-17, 121,
192n. 10 204n. 16
Index • 225
heroism/valor in, 109, 110, 111, Deleuze, Gilles, 187-88n. 14, 191n. 55,
112-16,120,121-25 202n. 77
kingship in, 112, 116, 117, 118-20, Derrida, Jacques, 197n. 14
122, 125, 127-28, 130 Descartes, Rene
law in, 118-20, 121-22, 124-25, on body as machine, 4, 5,9-11,174,
126 175
legibility of bodies in, 112-15 on certitude, 7, 16-17
legitimacy in, 118, 122, 127-28 cogito of, and power relations,
love vs. honor in, 109, 125-26 144-45
marriage in, 121, 123, 126-27, 204n. and Gassendi, 199n. 41
22 influence of, 169, 173-74, 175-76,
metaphorical figures in, 109-11, 114 205n. 7 (see also materialism,
on physical body and the body French)
politic, 109, 111, 117, 120-21, Optics, 196n. 7
122-23, 128-29, 130 The Passions of the Soul, 201n. 63
reception of, 109-11, 130 Principles of Philosophy, 74,201 n.
Rodriguelthe Cid, 123-25 69
social body in, 11 on priority of thought, 8
style of, 110-11 rationalism of, 144
time in, 127-28 rational subjectivity of, 4, 5, 16
Cinna (Corneille), 11, 111, 120 on reason/speech, 195n. 46
Ciorenescu, Alexandru, 189n. 26 Rules, 199n. 34
Clark, Carol, 184n. 43 on souls/thoughts of animals, 78,
classicism, 190n. 39, 191-92n. 2 195n. 37, 195nn.41-42
Coleridge, Samuel, Biographia Liter- The World, 72-73, 194n. 24, 196n.
aria, 205n. 11 7
Confessions (Augustine), 97 See also Discourse on Method; Medi-
Conley, Tom, 202n. 77 tations on the First Philosophy;
consciousness, 6, 181n. 5. See also Treatise on Man
thought desire
Copernican revolution, 85, 196n. 7 and imagination, 23-24
Corneille, Pierre, 5, 11 and individual expression, 204n. 27
Cinna, 11, 111, 120 for knowledge, 18, 182n. 11
Heraciius, 117 La Mettrie on, 140, 143
Horace, 11, 120 Diderot, Denis, 206n. 20
Nicomede, 117 Discourse on Method (Descartes)
Rodogune, 117 on architect as model, 193n. 17
Sertorius, 117-18 body's elimination in, 86, 197n. 10
See also The Cid on circulation of blood, 67, 68-71,
Cottingham, John, 194n. 24, 201n. 65 192n. 12, 193n. 16
Cottrell, Robert D., 182n. 11, 182n. 14 cogito, centrality/autonomy of,
Crates, 19 70-71, 193n. 15, 198n.22
Crimes of Love (Sade), 150 vs. Corneille's Cid, 109,130
critical literature on the body, 1, 179n. human vs. machine, 81, 196n. 49
1 influences on, 72, 193nn. 20-21
Cysarz, Herbert, 189n. 27 mechanistic model of body in, 67,
68-71, 72-73, 79-81, 192-93n.
death, 25, 26-27, 183n. 24 13, 193nn. 15-16, 195n.47
226 • Index
Discourse on Method (continued) style of, 15, 39, 180n. 2

on mind-body distinction, 67, 68, 81 on style/thought, 10, 38
vs. Montaigne's Essays, 67, 191 n. 1 See also "Of Experience"; "On Some
publication of, 67, 196n. 7 Verses of Virgil"
on rational soul, 80-81, 135 ethics, and temporality, 173
on reason/speech, 79-81 Eudoxus, The Search after Truth, 198n.
reason vs. perceptionlimagination/ 25
memory in, 68 Eugenie Grandet (H. de Balzac), 188n.
discursive practices, 3, 8-9, 180n. 13 23
divine creation, 74-75 L 'Eve Future (Villiers de l'Isle Adam),
Doubrovsky, Serge, 111-12 205n.l1
doubt, hyperbolic vs. skeptical, 197n. exchange/value, 111-12, 114,115-18,
18 120, 126-27, 128, 130
dreaming, 87, 197nn. 14-15 experience
dualism. See mind-body dualism Descartes on, 85, 101-2, 105, 201n.
61
Ehrmann, jacques, 57,111, 190n. 43 as diverse/contingent, 18-20, 101,
emblematic traditions, 42-43, 188n. 16 182n. 13,200n. 58
Emblematum tiber (Alciati), 188n. 16 The Extravagant Shepherd (Sorel),
embodiment 186n.2
vs. being, 5
conceptions of, 3 fabre, jean, 207n. 23
and representation, 7-8 fetishism, 62, 191n. 51
See also body fictional vs. real men, 72-73, 194n. 24
epistemic rupture, 191-92n. 2 Fletcher, Angus, 43
epistemology Foucault, Michel
body as epistemological obstruction, on baroque style, 187n. 9
196n.4 on discursive practices, 3, 8-9, 180n.
preeminence of, 73 13
See also knowledge on epistemic rupture, 191-92n. 2
Essays (Montaigne), 15-40 on madness in Cartesian project,
on being vs. passing, 37-38 197n. 9, 197n. 11, 197n. 13
critical reception of, 15 on reason/difference, 182n. 13
vs. Descartes's Discourse on Method, on Sade, 147-48,155,167
67, 191n. 1 on sexual/confessional discourses,
fluidity of self-presentation in, 186n. 180n. 15
59 on transgression, 147, 163-64
humoral conception of body in, 68 France, monarchic power in, 111,
on imagination, 140, 205n. 10 204n. 19
on knowledge as embodied, 7 Frankfurt, Harry, 196n. 1, 198n. 23,
on languagelinterpretation, 8 198n.27
Malebranche on, 15-16 French materialism. See materialism,
physical effects on readers, 15-16 French
referential character of sexuality in, French vs. Latin, 30, 185n. 46
9 Freud, Sigmund, 191n. 51
on representation as embodying, 10, Friedrich, Hugo, 185n. 46
16 Froissart, jean, "L'Horioge amoureus,"
self-reflection in, 97 193n.21
Index. 227
Galen, 68, 192n. 10 idealism, 169-70

Galileo, 196n. 7 imagination
Garber, Daniel, 198n. 33, 200nn. Aquinas on, 24
47-48 Descartes on, 92-93, 99-100,
gardens, 75-77, 194nn. 30-31, 194n. 105-6,138-39, 198n.29,200nn.
33 50-54
Gassendi, Pierre, 98, 199n. 41, 200n. La Mettrie on, 138-41, 143, 145
51,200nn.55-56,200n.61 Montaigne on, 140, 205n. 10
Gaukroger, Stephen, 78, 93 vs. reason, 138-39
genealogy/paternity, 116-17, 121, impotence, 30
204n. 16 incest, 162, 207n. 29
Genette, Gerard, 45, 57, 190n. 42 intellection, 99-100, 200n. 51
Gomez -Pereira, An toniana -Margari ta, intelligence/intellectual genius, 141,
n 205n.11
Gray, Floyd, 183n. 35, 184n. 37 introspection, 97
Greenberg, Mitchell, 204n. 16, 204n.
20,204n.22 Journal de voyage in Itafie par fa Suisse
Gueroult, Martial, 93, 197n. 14, et f'Allemagne en 1550-1581
197nn. 18-19 (Montaigne), 194n. 31
Gunderson, Keith, 196n. 49 judgment, 139, 140
Juliette (Sade), 161-62
habit, 22-23 Justine (Sade), 149
Harvey, William, 68-70, 192n. 10,
192-93n.13 Kenny, Anthony, 196n.6, 198n.30
Hatfield, Gary, 195n. 37, 196n. 2 kingship, 112, 116, 117, 118-20, 122,
heart, as mechanical, 70, 192n. 10, 125, 127-28, 130
192-93n.13 Klossowski, Pierre, 147, 163-64
Heidegger, Martin, 7, 202n. 76, 207n. knowledge
22 as certitude, 7
Helvetius, Claude-Adrien, 156, 162 desire for, 18, 182n. 11
Henaff, Marcel, 153, 157, 161-62 and embodiment, 7,85
Heraclitus, 19, 171 and imagination, 141
Heraclius (Corneille), 117 of nature, 85, 196n. 7
heroism/valor, 109, 110, 111, 112-16, objective, as mastery over nature,
120, 121-25 144-45
Hobbes, Thomas, 135, 199n. 35 poetic vs. scientific, 141
Leviathan, 129 and scientific method, 154
Holbach, Paul Heinrich Dietrich, Baron and use of signs, 138
d', 156, 162 and wisdom, 39-40
Horace, 42 Kritzman, Lawrence D., 183n. 26,
Horace (Corneille), 11, 120 183n.34, 184nn.41-42, 184n.44,
"L'Horioge amoureus" (Froissart), 185n.52
193n.21
Horowitz, Louise, 47, 188n. 22, 190nn. Lacan, Jacques, 147, 189n. 31
45-46 Lafayette, Madame de, The Princess of
humanism, 159, 208n. 3 Cleves, 41, 186n. 2
humors, 11, 68, 69 La Mettrie, Julien Offray de, 5, 162,
Husser!, Edmund, 196n. 4 174
228 • Index
La Mettrie (continued) Malcolm, Norman, 197n. 15

materialism of, 79,107,134,135, Malebranche, Nicolas, 15-16, 136,
155-56,175 201n.66
See also Man-Machine man
Lange, F. A., 123 vs. animals, 137-38, 141, 158-59
Langer, Ullrich, 182n. 20 autonomy of, 154-55
language fictional vs. real, 72-73, 194n. 24
and image, 10,49-57 as historical idea, 133
instability of, 52-53, 56-57 humanist account of, 159
and interpretation, 8 as humanity, 134
as intersubjective communication, 6 as machine (see Man-Machine)
and style, 34-37, 185n. 56 as rational animal, 91-92, 159,
See also speech 198n.25
Laqueur, Thomas, 205n. 5, 205n. 13 and use of signs, 138
Latin vs. French, 30, 185n. 46 Man-Machine (La Mettrie), 135-46
law Cartesian influence on, 11, 135-36,
authority of, 20-21 138-39, 145
Corneille on, 118-20, 121-22, on desire, 140, 143
124-25,126 on imagination, 138-41, 143, 145
and custom, 182n. 20 influence on naturalistic biology,
Montaigne on, 20-22, 182nn. 17-18 135-36
Leclerc, George Louis, 193n. 16 on judgment, 139, 140
Leder, Drew, 196n. 4, 200n. 56, 201n. on knowledge and use of signs,
59 138
legibility of bodies, 112-15. See also on madness rhetoric, 137
scriptorial account of body on man as machine, 136-37, 141-46
legitimacy, 118, 122, 127-28 on man vs. animals, 137-38, 141
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, 136, 201n. materialism of, 135-36, 145
66,202n.77 on memory, 139
lenses, and knowledge of nature, 85, mind-body dualism rejected in, 136,
196n.7 144
Leviathan (Hobbes), 129 on moral reflection, 142
Levinas, Emmanuel, 173 on organization of the brain, 139
Leviticus, 69 on reason, 138-40, 145
literature, and author's identity, 150 on scientific method, 136, 145,
Louis XIV, king of France, 130 206nn.20-21
love on sexual difference, 143-44, 146,
vs.honor, 109, 125-26 205n. 14
Montaigne on, 32-33, 185n. 52 on sexuality, 142-46
and the soul, 48 on soul as imagination, 138-40
Loyola, 83, 196n. 2 on soul as part of the brain, 136-37,
Lucretius, 184n. 38 139,141
Lyotard, Jean-Fran<;:ois, 4, 89 on spiritualism, 136
Maravall, Jose Antonio, 187n. 9
machines. See mechanistic/spectral marriage, 32-33
model of body masculinity/femininity, 30-32, 184n.
madness, 85-87, 137, 197n. 9, 197n. 41, 184nn.43-44, 185n.47.See
11, 197n. 13 also sexual difference
Index. 229
masculinization of thought, 144-45, body/material world reintroduced,

206n. 18 84,98-99,100,200nn.47-48
materialism, French body's erasure in, 11, 106
Cartesian influence on,S, 11, 134, cogito as absent from, 198n. 27
135-36,174 definition of man in, 91-92
rise of, 79,107, 135 Descartes's bodily presencelthreat of
See also Man-Machine madness, 85-87, 197n. 11, 197n.
Mathieu-Castellani, Gisele, 184n. 37 13
Mattern, Ruth, 201n. 69 on experience as unreliable, 101-2,
Mazarin, Jules, 111 105,201n.61
Mazlish, Bruce, 209n. 5 focus on bodies in, 83, 196n. 1
McKinley, Mary, 183n. 33, 183n. 34, Gassendi on, 98, 199n. 41, 200n. 51,
184n.36, 184n.38, 185n.54 200nn.55-56,200n.61
mechanistic/spectral model of body, 4, hyperbolic doubt argument/evil
5, 71-82 genius as supreme deceiver, 84,
Aquinas on, 72 88-96, 197n. 18
Aristotle on, 193n. 18 on imagination, 92-93, 99-100,
biblical model, 73-74 105-6,138-39,198n.29,200nn.
and dissection, 77, 194n. 33 50-54
Gomez-Pereira on, 72 immediacy of performative elements
Hobbes on, 129 of, 87, 197n. 12
human vs. machine, test of, 81, 196n. influences on, 196n. 2
49 and the inhuman, 82
Mondeville on, 71-72, 193n. 17 on intellection, 99-100, 200n. 51
and social organization, 72 introspective, incorporeal subject in,
See also Discourse on Method; Trea- 96-98,100,200n.55
tise on Man on knowledge as embodied experi-
medicine ence,85
and body as autonomous entity, on mathematical objects, 99, 200nn.
69-70 47-48,200n.50,200n.52
Montaigne on, 20-22, 182nn. 17-18 on memory, 104-6, 202n. 74
as prescriptive/descriptive, 21 on metaphysical doubt, 90, 197n. 19
See also blood on mind as located in the brain,
medieval worldview, 78, 194n. 32, 201n.69
195n.37 on mind-body union, 102-4, 106,
Meditations on the First Philosophy 201nn. 67-69,202nn. 70-72
(Descartes),81-107 on mind/soul-body separation, 93,
on agency, 104 98-100,105,106-7,198n.30,
Arnauld on, 98, 202n. 72 201nn. 64-66,202nn. 70-71,
automata passage in, 95-96, 199n. 202n. 77
40 on pain, 101, 103, 200n. 61
body as alienated/spectral/mechani- perfectibility of human will,
cal, 83-84, 103-4, 106 196n. 3
body as multiply embodied, 102 rational subjectivity of, 83, 104-5
body as physical entity in, 81-82 on reason vs. imagination/memory,
body as site for errors of perception, 138-39
83,84-87, 196n.4, 196n.6, on senses as unreliable, 100-102,
196-97n. 8 200nn.56-57,200nn.60-61
230 • Index
Meditations (continued) body as machine in, 155

on simples vs. composites, 87-88, Cartesian influence on, 11-12
197n.16 eroticism of, 151
on soul as immortal, 102, 201n. 65 on ideology, 153
sum argument and certitude, 90-91, Justine as victim/voyeur, 152-53,
92-93, 198nn.23-24, 198nn. 155
28-29,198n.32 Justine's death, 155, 165-66
on the sun, 196-97n.8 Justine/Sophie's misfortunes, 151,
on temporality, 105, 202n. 76 152, 155
theological arguments for God's exis- Justine vs. Juliette, 151-52
tence, 196n. 3 on law, 154-55
on understanding, 93, 99, 200n. 53 on man's autonomy, 154-55
on vision, 95 moral claims suspended in, 150-51
on waking vs. sleeping states, 87-88, on nature, 165-66
104-5, 197n. 16 plot of, 151
wax argument, 84, 93-95,96, 198n. and reader's relation to fiction,
33,199nn.34-36 151-52
memory, 68, 104-6, 138-39,202n. 74 scientific method parodied in,
Merchant, Carolyn, 145 154
Merleau-Ponty, Maurice, 173, 196n. 4 on social institutions/exchange,
on authority of the body, 107 153-54, 207n. 13
on body as embedded in the world, violence in, 152-53
176-77,208n.3,209n.9 monarchic power, 111, 204n. 19. See
on consciousness, 181 n. 5 also kingship
on death, 183n. 24 Mandeville, Henri de, 71-72, 193n. 17
on the knowing subject/perception, 6 Montaigne, Michel de
on language as intersubjective com- antifeminism of, 185n. 47
munication,6 on cultivation of the body, 1-2,
on man as historical idea, 133 179nn.4-5
on perception and error, 200n. 57 on experiential body, 172
The Phenomenology of Perception, humanist view of man, 159
176 Journal de voyage in Italie par la
on self-understanding, 183n. 23 Suisse et l'Allemagne en
on subjectivity, 1 1550-1581, 194n. 31
on thinking as discourse, 97-98 kidney stones of, 23, 25
The Visible and the Invisible, 176-77 LatinlFrench learned by, 28
on vision/viewing subject, 180n. 10 mannerist/baroque style of, 17, 172,
Mersenne, Marin, 92 181n.8
Metamorphoses (Ovid), 49, 186n. 61, Nietzsche on, 172
189n.32 "Of Repentance," 37
Metaphysics (Aristotle), 18 "Of the Resemblance of Children to
mind, definition of, 78 Their Fathers," 182n. 18
mind-body dualism, 136, 144, 173, "Of Vanity," 38
190n. 39. See also Discourse on postmodernism of, 4
Method; Meditations on the First scriptorial account of body in works
Philosophy of, 4-5,174
misfortune, 149 on sexual difference, 174
Misfortunes of Virtue (Sade) on transcendentalism, 2, 172
Index. 231
See also Essays; "Of Experience"; on law/medicine, 20-22, 182nn.

"On Some Verses of Virgil" 17-18
Montaigne, Pierre de (father of Michel on life/excrement, 25
de Montaigne), 23, 25, 28 on pleasure, 25
Montemayor, Jorge de, 189n. 26 portraits in, 37
on reason as diverse, 18
Nakam, Geralde, 182n. 17 on self and multiple embodiments,
Narcissus, 49-50, 190n. 36 37,185-86n.58
naturalistic biology, 135-36 on self as being in passage, 18
nature on social construction of body,
and art, 37, 74-75 22-23
knowledge of, 85, 196n. 7 on study of self, 22
mastery over, 144-45 on truth as provisionally universal,
and romanticism, 45, 189n. 26 20
Sade on, 160, 162-63, 164-67, on wisdom/knowledge, 39-40
207n.23,208n.31 on word-thing relation, 19-20
Neoplatonism, 48-49, 63 "Of Repentance" (Montaigne), 37
Nicomede (Corneille), 117 "Of the Resemblance of Children to
Nietzsche, Friedrich, 6, 107, 163-64, Their Fathers" (Montaigne), 182n.
176 18
The Twilight of the Idols, 169-72, "Of Vanity" (Montaigne), 38
208n.2 O'Neill, John, 185n. 56
Nouvet, Claire, 189n. 32 "On Some Verses of Virgil" (Mon-
novellas, 41 taigne),27-39
novels on Aristotle, 36
birth of, 41, 186n. 2 author's presence in, 38-39, 186n.
and classical tradition, 41, 186-87n. 61, 186n. 63
3 on borrowing from other authors, 36
landscapes and moral state of charac- on impotence, 30
ters in, 45, 188n. 23 Latin quotations as defining structure
Sade on, 148-50 of, 183n. 35
verisimilitude/plausibility in, 41, on love/sexual pleasure, 32-33,
186-87n.3 185n.52
Lucretius-Virgil passages in, 29-30,
occasional causes, 136, 201n. 66 184nn.37-39
"Of Experience" (Montaigne), on marriage, 32-33
17-27 on masculinitylfemininity, 30-32,
Aesop anecdote in, 19, 182n. 14 184n. 41, 184nn. 43-44, 185n. 47
body as scriptorial entity in, 17 on naturalization of art, 37
on body as speech, 24-25 on pleasures of youth, 27, 183n. 26
on death, 25, 26-27, 183n. 24 on Plutarch's experience of Latin,
on desire and imagination, 23-24 34
on desire for knowledge, 18, 182n. on poetry, 29, 31
11 rhetoric/sexuality in, 184n. 42
on diversity/universality of experi- on sexual embodiment, and style as
ence, 18-20, 182n. 13, 200n. 58 expression, 17
on habit, 22-23 on sexuality and reproduction, 29,
on kidney stone, 25-26 183n.34
232 • Index
O'Neill, John (continued) libertine philosophy vs. humanism in,

sexuality as dialogue/performance in, 159-60
30,31 on man vs. animals, 158-59
sexuality as myth in, 32 materialist influences on, 155-56
sexuality's pervasiveness in, 37 on nature, 160, 162-63, 165, 207n.
sexuality via quotationlliterature in, 23,208n.31
28-29,33-34, 183n.30, 183n.33 on pain, 157-58
on sexualization of the soul, 183n. perversity/crime and writing in, 156,
29 161,163
on style/language, 27-28, 34-37, 38, reader's relation to, 156
185n.56 on resemblance and bodily identity,
style of, uniqueness of, 39 158-59
on thought, 27, 35, 183n. 28 on resemblance and love, 160-61
use of letter V in, 183n. 28, 185n. 51 sexuality/pleasure/cruelty in, 156-58
Venus in, 29, 184n. 36 Plato, 31, 54, 97, 106
on word-thing relation, 34-35, 18511. Platonism, 48-49
55 pleasure, 25, 32-33, 156-58, 185n. 52
ontological difference, 9-10,175 pleasures of youth, 27, 183n. 26
Optics (Descartes), 196n. 7 Plutarch, 34
The Origin of German Tragic Drama Poetics (Aristotle), 149, 206n. 6
(Benjamin), 42-43, 187-88n. 14 poetr~29,31,43,54,188n.20
Ovid, Metamorphoses. 49, 186n. 61, postmodernism, 4, 169
189n.32 poststructuralism, 173
Poullain de la Barre, Fran~ois, 134
pain, 101, 103,157-58, 200n. 61 preestablished harmony, 136
painting, 43, 188n. 20 The Princess of Cleves (Lafayette), 41,
Parker, Patricia, 184n. 43, 185n. 49 186n.2
The Passions of the Soul (Descartes), Principles of Art History (WCilfflin), 42
201n. 63 Principles of Philosophy (Descartes),
paternity/genealogy, 116-17, 121, 74,201n.69
204n. 16
Paul, St., 155 Racine, Jean, Phedre, 204n. 27
Pausanias, 49 tes Raisons des forces mouvantes avec
perception, primacy of, 6 diverses machines (Caus), 194n. 30
Phedre (Racine), 204n. 27 rationalism
The Phenomenology of Perception of Descartes, 4, 5, 16, 83, 104-5,
(Merleau-Ponty), 176 144
Philosophy in the Bedroom (Sade), and eroticism, 155-56
155-63 man as rational animal, 91-92, 159,
Cartesian influence on, 11-12 198n.25
on culture/violence, 165 See also reason
dialogue form/theatricality of, 156 rational subjectivity, 4,5, 16,83,
on eroticism and rationalism, 155-56 104-5, 134-35
on eroticism as perversion/crime, real vs. apparent world, 170-71
155-56 real vs. fictional men, 72-73, 194n. 24
Eugenie's figurative incest, 165 reason
incest law parodied in, 160-61 Descartes on, 68, 79-81, 138-39,
libertine body and use-value in, 157 195n.46
Index. 233
and difference, 182n. 13 Reflections on the Novel, 148-50,

diversity of, 18 158, 164-65
La Mettrie on, 138-40,145 on sexuality as violence/violation, 12,
and masculinization of thought, 133-34, 146, 147, 175-76
144-45,206n.18 transgression in works of, 147, 163,
Nietzsche on, 171 164, 166
vs. perceptionlimagination/memory, and Villeterque, 150
68,138-39 See also Misfortunes of Virtue; Phi-
preeminence of, 171 losophy in the Bedroom
Sade on, 167 Saint-Germain-en-Laye (France), 194n.
universalitylideality of, 18 30
See also rationalism Saint-Just, Louis Antoine Leon Florelle
Reflections on the Novel (Sade), de, 162
148-50, 158, 164-65 Sarduy,Severo, 187nn. 10-11
Regosin, Richard, 38 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 190n. 43
Renaissance and Baroque (Wolfflin), Sawday, Jonathan, 192-93n. 13
42 Schiller, Friedrich, Aesthetic Education
Renaissance style/worldview, 42, 70, of Man, 205n. 11
78,194n.32 sCience
Richelieu, Cardinal, 111 development of, 85, 173-74, 196n. 7
Rigolot, Fran,<ois, 186n. 59, 186n. 61 informational models in, 173-74,
Rodogune (Corneille), 117 209nn.5-6
romanticism, 45, 189n. 26 naturalism, 205n. 7
Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 159 scientific method, 136, 145, 206nn.
Rousset, Jean, 189n. 25 20-21
Rules (Descartes), 199n. 34 scriptorial account of body, 4-5, 17,
173, 174, 208n. 3. See also legibil-
Sade, Marquis de, 5-6, 10 ity of bodies
on authorial persona, 150 Scudery, Georges de, 110
Crimes of Love, 150 The Search after Truth (Eudoxus),
critical reception of, 147 198n.25
encyclopedic representation in works secularization of body, 74, 194n. 27
of, 147-48, 161-62, 164 self
eroticism in works of, 167 as being in passage, 18
exaggerated plots of, 206n. 6 as image, 189n. 31
on foundational difference, 159, and multiple embodiments, 37,
207n.22 185-86n. 58
influence of, 166 self-understanding, 183n. 23
Juliette, 161-62 Seneca, 30
Justine, 149 senses as unreliable, 100-102, 200nn.
materialism of, 79,107,135,146, 56-57,200nn.60-61
175 Sepper, Dennis L., 200n. 54
misfortunelfear/pity in works of, Seris, Jean-Pierre, 80
148-49,206n.6 Sertorius (Corneille), 117-18
on nature, 167 sexual difference
parody used by, 149-50, 162, 164, and anatomy of incommensurability,
166-67 205n.5
reason challenged hy, 167 and Cartesian subjectivity, 133, 135
234 • Index
sexual difference (continued) speech, 24-25, 79-81. See also lan-

La Mettrie on, 143--44, 146, 205n. guage
14 Spinoza, Baruch, 201n. 66
and ontological difference, 9-10, 133 spiritualism, 136
and resemblance, 174 Starobinski, Jean, 26, 115, 182n. 18,
See also masculinitylfemininity 183n. 30, 184n. 39, 185n. 53,
sexuality 185-86n.58
and communication/exchange, 175 state, 129
conception, 143--44, 205nn. 13-14 Stern, Karl, 144
and confessional discourse, 180n. 15 structuralism, 173
embodiment as central to, 8-9 style
embodiment of, and style as expres- and language, 34-37, 185n.56
sion,17 Montaigne on, 10,27-28,34-38,
female orgasm, 205n. 13 185n.56
La Mettrie on, 142--46 and thought, 38
and machines vs. animate beings, subjectivity
142--43 Merleau-Ponty on, 176-77
mechanistic view of (see Man- rational, 4, 5, 16, 83, 104-5, 134-35
Machine) and sexual difference, 133, 135
mutual obligations in marriage,
32-33, 185n.53 Thihaudet, Albert, 180n. 2
referential character of, 9 thought
and reproduction, 29, 183n.34 in animals, 78, 195n. 37, 195nn.
and the soul, 183n. 29 41--42
See also Astrea; Misfortunes of and imagination, 35
Virtue; "On Some Verses of Vir- as inscribing body, 27, 183n. 28
gil"; Philosophy in the Bedroom masculinization of, 144--45, 206n. 18
Shakespeare, William, 41 priority of, 8
Simonedes of Ceos, 188n. 20 and style, 38
simples vs. compositcs, 87-88, 197n. See also consciousness
16 Tort, Michel, 156
sleeping vs. waking states, 87-88, transgression, 147, 163-64
104-5, 197n. 16 Treatise on Man (Descartes)
Sollers, Philippe, 156, 166 on agency, 78
Sorel, Charles, 109-10, 113-14 on breathing/secularization of body,
The Extravagant Shepherd, 186n. 2 74, 194n.27
soul on circulation of blood/animal spir-
of animals, as vegetative, 78, 137, its, 76
195n.37,195nn.41--42 on divine creation, 74-75
Descartes on, 102, 135, 137, 201n. on fictional vs. real mcn, 72-73,
65 194n.24
as imagination, 1 38--40 on gardens, 75-77, 194nn. 30-31,
as immortal, 102, 137, 201n. 65 194n.33
La Mettrie on, 136-37, 138--40, 141 influences on, 194n. 30
philosophical/religious autonomy of, mechanistic model of body in, 73-79,
141,170 194n.33
rational, 78-81,103,135,137 on nature/art, 74-75
as transcendent, 170 on organism as machine, 73
Index • 235
publication of, 72 virtual reality, 1

on rational soul, 78-79, 103 The Visible and the Invisible (Merleau-
truth, universality of, 20 Ponty), 176-77
Turk, Edward Baron, 189n. 34 Vizier, Alain, 199n. 40
The Twilight of the Idols (Nietzsche), Voltaire, Fraw;;ois Marie Arouet de,
169-72, 208n. 2 142-43
Ubersfeld, Anne, 117-18 waking vs. sleeping states, 87-88,

understanding, 93, 99, 200n. 53 104-5, 197n. 16
Urfe, Honore d' Wellman, Kathleen, 206n. 21
baroque style of, 172 wisdom, 39-40. See also knowledge
death of, 186n. 1 Wolfflin, Heinrich
scriptorial account of body in works Principles of Art History, 42
of,4-5 Renaissance and Baroque, 42
on sexual difference, 174 women, passivity of, 31-32, 185n. 49
See also Astrea word-thing relation, 19-20, 34-35,
185n.55
Vartanian, Aram, 134, 135, 205n. 7 The World (Descartes), 72-73, 194n.
Villeterque, Alexandre-Louis de, 150 24, 196n. 7
Villiers de l'Isle Adam, Auguste, Comte
de, L'Eve Future, 205n. 11 Yolton, John W., 200n. 60
Virgil, 184n. 38
virile style, 30, 184n. 43 Zola, Emile, I88n. 23

【身体的文化：现代性的谱系】The Culture of the Body Genealogies of Modernity

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The Culture of the Body

THE BODY, IN THEORY Histories of Cultural Materialism

The Subject as Action: Transformation and Totality in Narrative Aesthetics

Philodemus in Italy: The Books from Herculaneum

The Tremulous Private Body: Essays on Subjection by Francis Barker

The University of Michigan Press

2004 2003 2002 2001 4 .) 2 1

No part of this publication may be reproduced,

A elP catalog record for this book is aL'uilable

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

This project was inspired by the writings of Maurice Merleau-Ponty and

Part 1. Baroque Embodiments

Chapter 1. Montaigne's Scriptorial Bodies:

Chapter 2. Emblematic Legacies: Regendering the

Part 2. Cartesian Bodies, Virtual Bodies

Chapter 3. The Automaton as Virtual Model:

Chapter 4. Spectral Metaphysics: Errant Bodies

Chapter 5. Incorporations: Royal Power, or the

Part 3. Materialist Machines

Chapter 6. Men-Machines 133

Chapter 7. Sex at the Limits of Representation 147

Written approximately fifty years before Rene Descartes's interpretation of

tion of the body as an entity whose historical character emerges as a func-

foundations of metaphysical discourse, raising the specter of the inhuman as

any formal or conceptual potential, the objective materiality of the body

tion of regulatory norms, whose forcible and reiterative character implicates

these lines, ontological difference is seen as paradigmatic of sexual differ-

Since the publication of Michel de Montaigne's Essays (1588), commenta-

is accused of producing physical effects, of affectively "touching" the

Malebranche's warning against the dangers of reading Montaigne captures

dence. The development of the aesthetic ideology of classicism implements

The Limits of Experience

By associating reason with its multiple embodied forms, Montaigne goes

This double movement of resemblance and difference qualifies the Janus-

The effort to name things leads to a proliferation of words: the stone is

word for another, an exchange in kind. This deferral of materiality through

The doctor is like an artist or model-maker, who though distant from a

either through jurisprudence or medicine, the conventional and contractual

taisie)! In my opinion that faculty is all-important, at least more important

The dialogical character of speech brings into relief an understanding of the

(faveur paternelle). When Montaigne describes the passing of the kidney

Montaigne's painful description coincides with a dramatic spectacle, where

This conjunction of speech and the experience of eliminating the kidney

sure and on loss. As Montaigne explains, he composes and reconciles him-

Sexuality: Gendered Styles

writing and engraving. Montaigne's allusion to style at the beginning of the

Montaigne literally welds and weaves together Lucretius's and Virgil's

infusus (out-poured)." 38 This sense of borrowing, of immixture, contexture,

revealed as a function of social strictures, but this sexual inactivity is

5: 647).53 But the reciprocity that Montaigne ascribes to sexual pleasure in

The Autograph of Style

Montaigne's earlier reflections on Lucretius's and Virgil's styles also consti-

His emphasis on fashioning (faffon), rather than just material (etoffe),

or dress up its author by disguising or generalizing ordinary actions beyond

To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.