N Inc (p.21).

appearing bathetic, so Valéry rations these examples’,"^ supplementing them instead with conjectures from his observers. The irony of this is, of course, that Teste, the only central character in the autographic works we shall be considering who is not drawn from popular Western mythology or literature, is in fact the figure who emerges as the most mythical of them all.

In the Soirée almost all the information the reader is given about Teste comes from the narrator’s own interpretation, and the narrator plays a crucial role in making Teste credible to the reader. Ince goes as far as to describe the narrator in the Soirée,

‘Monsieur X’, as ‘the biggest single factor in the achievement of Valéry’s goal’.^ The narrator thus communicates what he sees as Teste’s vast potential for analysis and understanding, rather than referring to any particular events or achievements the narrator has witnessed himself: ‘si cet homme avait changé l’objet de ses méditations fermées, s’il eût tourné contre le monde la puissance régulière de son esprit, rien ne lui eût résisté’(Oe 11,19). However, the narrator can only conjecture as to Teste’s mental processes:

Je devinais cet esprit maniant et mêlant, faisant varier, mettant en

communication, et dans l’étendue du champ de sa connaissance, pouvant couper et dévier, éclairer, glacer ceci, chauffer cela, noyer, exhausser, nommer ce qui manque de nom, oublier ce qu’il voulait, endormir ou colorer ceci ou cela (Oe 11,19).

The narrative technique of giving Teste’s image only through the eyes of others, and the frequent employment of the imperfect and conditional tenses, cleverly serve to convey precisely that view of the self we have seen Valéry espouse - one where the Moi Pur is defined through negative identification and the self is expressed in terms of its endless potential rather than in terms of concrete or ‘real’ occurrences in his/her existence.

Closely related to this emphasis on the potential rather than actualised capacities of the human being is, of course. Teste’s lack of overt behaviour and near-

^ ibid.,

total elimination of his personal subjectivity and the ‘pour-autrui’ aspects of his being. From the narrator we learn that he has eradicated all superfluous aspects of his mental and physical existence and he comes across as an anonymous figure who rejects all social interaction and functions. In fact, as Hackett rightly points out, Teste is defined by negations, by what ‘he does not say, and does not do’.^ The narrator says of Teste

‘il ne souriait pas, ne disait ni bonjour ni bonsoir; il semblait ne pas attendre le “Comment allez-vous?”’(Oe 11,17).

As we have seen. Teste’s whole ‘raison d’être’ is the embodiment of Valéry’s idea of the power of the mind to universalise and achieve a state of pure self­

coincidence, fighting his own contingency. He is therefore presented as an anonymous figure, barely acknowledging his surroundings and detached from those around him. One of the most noticeable and successful aspects of the writings on Teste is, in fact, the effect of dislocation and detachment they produce which is brought about by a variety of factors. These factors, when taken in conjunction, function to produce precisely those intuitions of the self gleaned by Valéry - namely a view of the mind as an enclosed and finite system, objectified and analysed through intellectual rigour and over which the subject can potentially gain absolute and perfect control, and it is through this detachment and negative description that the reader is able to glimpse the world of the Valery an Moi Pur.

In the physical description given of Teste, for example, the use of short, precise sentences which are broken up and prevented from flowing, produces a staccato-like effect of abruptness and a certain coldness, both of which are

characteristics attributed to Teste; this effect both conveys to the reader a conception of the self as autonomous and objectified, and is also very much in line with the Symbolist’s impressionistic glimpses of the transcendental:

M.Teste avait peut-être quarante ans. Sa parole était extraordinarement rapide, et sa voix sourde. Tout s’effaçait en lui, les yeux, les mains. Il avait pourtant les épaules militaires, et le pas d’une régularité qui étonnait

(n,17).

Teste’s use of language, the reader learns, is extreme in its precision, so much so that the narrator has to admit that most of what Teste does say is virtually

incomprehensible. His voice is hushed to a whisper, his movements are wooden and his talk stilted, neither directed at anyone nor expecting a response, but simply put forward as though impelled by some kind of inner necessity. There is no thread in his dialogue, leaving the narrator to fill the gaps in for himself. Teste’s memory is a purely functional one, stripped of anything that may cause complications or

reverberations. In the Soirée, the narrator famously describes Teste as having ‘tué la marionnette" {Oq 11,17), a metaphor which so evocatively calls to mind the image of an

inanimate puppet dangling from a string, having eliminated all superfluous social gestures, but also conveys the equally important notion that no-one but Teste himself pulls his strings.

Not only is his own being stripped of any social amenity or relation, but Teste’s surroundings also reflect the desire to reduce all to functionality: thus the reader learns that Teste lives in a room which reflects his own mind, purged of everything except the bare essentials for living - a bed and a chest of drawers. The narrator is surprised by the absence of books or ornaments and by the impersonality of the place.

The importance of the ‘regard’ is stressed throughout the Soirée. Teste is the supreme observer and witness of his own mental processes, a mind turned wholly inwards, presenting Valéry’s newly developed reflexive conception of the self as outlined in Chapter Three. This approach to the self as the power to oversee

everything and to reduce all to algebra-like formulae is particularly highlighted in the second ‘scene’ of the Soirée in which the narrator accompanies Teste to the opera.

The energy of the scene is palpable in the description given by the nan ator, with the bubbling of voices and the fluttering of fans, and particularly evident is the energy created by the various sources of light and heat, conveyed by the

Une immense fille de cuivre nous séparait d’un groupe murmurant au delà de l’éblouissement. Au fond de la vapeur, brillait un morceau nu de femme, doux comme un caillou. Beaucoup d’éventails indépendants vivaient sur le monde sombre et claire, écumant jusqu’aux feux du haut (Oe 11,20)

As ultimate witness to all this, stands Teste himself, coming to life, glowing red at the centre of all this energy. The scene conveys the immense power of his attention, against the background of a gold pillar symbolising the ‘masculine’ rationality of his mind, absorbing the energy of the scene and reducing everything with the intensity of his intellect. Whilst others’ attention is focused on the stage. Teste oversees the audience itself and his surroundings;

Je le revois debout avec la colonne d’or de l’Opéra; ensemble.

Il ne regardait que la salle. Il aspirait la grande bouffée brûlante, au bord du trou. Il était rouge (Oe 11,20).

The dramatic energy of this scene is also enhanced by the fact that the^ crowd of this period were probably in anticipation of an opera by Wagner with all the tumult and intensity associated with this music.

In the Soirée, the search Teste is engaged in means that his intensity is presented as overwhelming to those around him. In the opening passages of the Soirée, the narrator seems to be in awe of Teste, watching his every move, reading the newspaper Teste leaves on the café table and mimicking his behaviour. However, as the Soirée progresses, this awe becomes suffused with a feeling of incomprehension which at times borders on fear. The room the narrator is taken back to by Teste at the end of the Soirée, for example, fills the former with horror and sadness, due to its emptiness and bleakness: ‘j ’eus peur de l’infinie tristesse possible dans ce lieu pur et banal’ (Oe 11,23).

The emptiness is not only due to the physical state of the room, its lack of furniture, but also results from the dislocation which exists between Teste and the

narrator, the detachment afforded by the ‘regard’, and the effect of an unreal void which this produces. It is the bleakness and coldness of this inhospitable environment, the isolation and anonymity of Teste, which is conveyed above all else and which the author cultivates to great effect in order to represent in an adequate way the

conception of the self which dominates these writings.

It is the mind as negation that Valéry wants to show, and again, the

incompatibility of such a mind with any comfortable human existence is striking and the fear the narrator conveys is one associated with witnessing the determined and sustained effort Teste represents to transgress the limits of human existence and master himself. To be in the presence of a mind so totally self-sufficient and rigorous is shown to be an uncomfortable and intimidating experience. The mind pushed to its extreme reaches a point of negativity and autonomy makes it incompatible both with human interaction and interaction with the physical world as a whole; the text suggests it is a bleak and lonely realm.

Yet, it is not only this which causes shivers to run down the reader’s back when presented with this text. There is also a tremendous sense of discomfort generated in the Soirée, which adds to the sense of other-worldliness associated with the Testian figure and seems to indicate an idea of the self which cannot be reconciled with harmonious human existence. The discomfort is often of a physical nature, for example the description of Teste’s ‘face enflammée’ (Oe 11,21) with heat whilst at the theatre, the shrillness of both the light and clapping once the performance has

finished, ‘l’applaudissement et la lumière complète nous chassèrent’ (Oe 11,22) along with the contrasting melancholy sparsity of Teste’s room ‘il n’y avait autour de la bougie que le morne mobilier abstrait’ (Oe 11,23).

This physical discomfort increases towards the end of the Soirée, as the narrator is struck even more strongly by ‘la chambre froide, la nullité du meuble’ (Oe 11,23), and he becomes increasingly conscious of his desire to escape these abject surroundings. Yet the narrator is retained by Teste and he witnesses the latter’s ‘corps sec’(Oe 11,24) as he undresses and lies down in a cold bed too small for him.

Yet, interestingly. Teste’s autonomy and will to universalise is constantly relativised by his enforced social interaction, kept though this is to the bare minimum

of, for example, ordering a meal in a café. The Soirée suggests that Teste needs the narrator and leans on him at certain moments, so that this character, paradoxically, over-sees Teste himself, supporting him in his searches, looking out for him and seeing things in him which he himself is unable to see.

Thus the narrator of the Soirée is left to make sense of Teste’s increasingly formulaic utterances and, while Teste remains largely immune to his own suffering, it is the narrator who draws attention to it ‘tout a coup, il se tut. II souffrit’(Oe 11,23) and it is left to the narrator to wait, in an almost parental role, until Teste is calm and has gone to sleep, and to blow out the candle as he leaves.

The narrator of the Soirée serves to present the human face of an otherwise wholly inhuman character, enforcing Valéry’s message that total mastery of the mind remains a dream for the human individual and one which is constantly being

undermined by one’s own contingency and the necessity of being-in-the-world. Through Valéry’s portrayal of the Testian mind - a portrayal which stresses above all the dominance and autonomy of this figure - there emerges, however, an impression of dependency upon others and child-like vulnerability.

At the end of the Soirée, Teste yields to sleep, as a release from the efforts of his intellect, ‘le sommeil continue n’importe quelle idée’ (Oe 11,25) and the suffering of his body, and this sleep is likened to death in the phrase ‘fit le mort’(Oe 11,24). The drawing of M.Teste sleeping which accompanies the 1945 edition of this text,^ indicates the loss of self-possession, and control over language in particular, which sleep provides. However, Teste’s self-control remains undiminished right until the point when he at last gives way to sleep, as is indicated by the active verbs in ‘il se plia sur le côté, baissa les yeux’(Oe 11,25).

For Teste, sleep is a means of escaping the activity of consciousness, the drive to universalise everything and to reach a realm of pure thought, yet it is also, however, a failure he encounters every night - the failure of his mind to overcome the influence and needs of the body which constantly undermine his intellectual power. Thus the Soirée shows that however powerful the will may be, the attention of the mind is constantly relativised by the presence of the contingent body.

2) Valéry’s lifelong autography - the Cahiers

The Cahiers are Valéry’s first and most constant autographic response to the challenge of the alienating and inadmissible image. The Cahiers comprise of an enormous collection of notebooks, 26,600 pages in all, beginning in 1896 and written right up to Valery’s death in 1945. Far from being personal journals, these pages are filled with precisely that which is impersonal, in line with Valery’s ‘universalist vocation’:^ thus the early Cahiers are devoted to analysis and abstraction, often in the form of reduction into algebraic formulae, of a wide range of mental functioning. An enormous variety of fields of knowledge are taken up in these notebooks, although they are predominantly concerned with psychology, physiology, philosophy and language.

Valery’s aim in these Cahiers was precisely not to write for others, to seduce or influence as he was to accuse Gide of doing with the publication of the latter’s Journal: ‘Les autres font des livres. Moi je fais mon esprit’(1,30). In this section we point to the features of this autography which both reveal and project Valery’s newly- discovered view of the self in response to the challenge of the image and the

experiences of 1891-2. Having realised that the desire to resolve mental functioning into final intelligibility formed part of a mysticism of the intellect, Valéry sought, in the Cahiers, to represent the whole of mental functioning and the processes of the mind.

The Cahiers are therefore highly paradoxical in that they are both intensely self-reflexive and yet wholly unconcerned, particularly in their beginnings, with the realm of the personal. Instead the subject, Valéry himself, is taken as the basis for research in the attempt to represent universal patterns and mechanisms. The Cahiers seek to probe and attempt to answer the oft-posed question in Valéry ‘s work, ‘Que peut un homme?’ (Oe 11,23) - to explore fully the possiblities of the human intellect.

* Paul Gifford, ‘Thinking-Writing Games of the Cahiers’, in Reading Paul Valéry, eds., P. Gifford and B. Stimpson, 36-52, (p.37).

Thus Gifford describes the Cahiers as ‘the analytical unfolding to conscious understanding of everything that is implied in “mind”’.^

Valéry was later to explain the guiding idea of the Cahiers in the following terms: ‘Mon idée est simple. Je suis sûr qu’il y a une mécanique de l’esprit dont dépend tout - de sorte que tout doit pouvoir s’exprimer en termes de

fonctionnement’(C XVII,216). In the early Cahiers mathematics is seen as providing an ideal language for the representation, in purely formal terms, abstracted from the particular acts and contents of our mental life, of the processes of the mind.

The Cahiers are written without order or continuity. Valéry passes from one subject to another without concern for linkages, and the entries vary widely in length, from a short paragraph to several pages. Nor is there continuity in the writing itself; the entries are highly fragmented, and the arrows, hyphens, writing in the margins and dashes, along with the doodles, sketches and later, full water-colours, serve to

fragment further the already fragmented. The Cahiers thus give the impression of an enormous work in progress, feeding off whatever ideas come to mind at the given moment, regardless of organisation or structure. Themes and patterns^® constantly recur, showing that the huge analysis and representation of mental functioning Valéry was undertaking is a process which is constantly under revision, that no satisfactory end-point or conclusion is ever reached - hence the endless probing and unfinished nature of the Cahiers.

The fragmented structure, which has becomes so fashionable in late twentieth century writing, is thus here a result of the project itself, rather than of narrative artifice or construction. The reading of the fragments, as Gifford comments ‘is one of the greatest challenges to acquired habits of reading’,^ ^ for there is no story-line, no succession even in the flow of ideas, but the Cahiers have to be read as totally open- ended and discontinuous, with all hope of coherence in narrative, closure or

conclusion being suspended.

^ Gifford ibid., p.41

This repetition and recurrence o f certain themes led to the editing and organisation of the Cahiers, in the Pléaide edition by Judith Robinson, into sections according to these themes or central ideas, such as Ego. Eros, Langage, le M oi et la Personnalité etc,

With no rigidity of structure to guide him/her, the reader is left completely to