Anh Hai Do

Mr. Houser

Language paper

On the confession of Mme de Clèves

In his last few moments on the death bed, M. de Clèves confesses to his wife that he

had rather remain ignorant of his wife’s infidelity than to know it 1. M. de Clèves cannot follow

his own rational advice that he previously gave to his friend Sancerre, that the “sincerity of his

lover, or even his wife, would bring him distress but not bitterness,” and that he would

“abandon the role of the lover or husband to give her his advice and compassion 2.” Peace of

mind eludes him. Distrust of Mme de Clèves torments him. Despite Mme de Clèves’ incessant

attempts to convince him of her sincerity, M. de Clèves is faced with an unsurmountable feeling

of estrangement from her. M. de Clèves thus passes away without being able to forgive his

wife. Furthermore, his last words even seem to impart a moral duty to her to honor his memory

and not to marry M. de Nemours. How should one understand M. de Clèves final course of

action towards his wife? And not to pass judgement upon, but rather to inquire about the

consequences of Mme de Clèves’ confession to her husband, let us ask what is revealed about

both characters via the way they meet such a challenge to their marriage.

Perhaps it is worthwhile to first inquire about what it means to be unfaithful, and

whether it is unavoidable or not. In confessing to M. de Clèves, the Princesse de Clèves assures

him that none of her actions has revealed her feelings for another man 3. Whether this claim is

legitimate or not remains to be investigated. Nevertheless, the Princesse de Clèves sees a

distinction between being unfaithful in thought and being unfaithful in action. This is an

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important distinction theoretically, although perhaps not so consequential practically. To shed

some light on this point, let us examine how the Princesse de Clèves and M. de Clèves perceive

infidelity from their individual perspectives.

Although the Princesse de Clèves never explicitly told M. de Nemours that she loves him

until after her husband’s death, her conduct is not always taintless. She fails to appear

indifferent to M. de Nemours on many occasions, such as in the incident where Nemours falls

from a horse and gets injured, or when they are both in her chamber to replicate the Vidame’s

disastrous letter. What stands out especially is Mme de Clèves’ intense feelings of jealousy

when she thought that the letter belonged to M. de Nemours, because those feelings could

only be the mark of her genuine passion for a man other than her husband. Even Mme de

Clèves herself recognizes that she was “deceiving her husband who least of all deserved to be

deceived4,” while feelings of guilt and her unworthiness are first indications of her infidelity.

Neither M. de Nemours nor Mme de Clèves have expressed in explicit terms their

feelings for one another up to this point. Yet Mme de Clèves is already experiencing intense

feelings of jealousy when she realizes that M. de Nemours might not genuinely love her. Thus

Mme de Clèves experiences for the first time those insecure torments which accompany the

prospect of losing someone for whom she has romantic feelings5. Perhaps it is precisely this

instinctual fear of losing someone before one even establishes any understanding with that

person regarding both parties’ feelings, that is the true indicator of passion.

Ironically, Mme de Clèves does not seem to have this same fear of losing her husband

to another woman, the consideration of which seems to only heighten the effect of M. de

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Clèves’ death on her. Mme de Clèves trembles at the mere thought of losing M. de Nemours,

who is the object of her true passion. On the contrary, she grasps the full gravity of losing her

husband who truly loves her only after the loss itself. We do not here attempt to assimilate one

kind of loss to another. For there is no comparison between losing a lover to another woman

and physically losing a husband. However, from this point emerges an interesting observation

that since M. de Clèves sees himself as Mme de Clèves’ lover, we are presented with a powerful

juxtaposition of two inclinations of the heart. M. de Nemours is the man Mme de Clèves truly

loves, whereas M. de Clèves is the man to whom she is married and who really loves her. But

how naturally is Mme de Clèves prone to the feelings of jealousy for Nemours at the mere

prospect of losing him, while being so dutifully tied to feelings of nothing more than gratitude

for her husband! Mme de Clèves cannot force herself to produce amorous feelings for a

husband who truly loves her and who deserves her love. And yet the more she resists having

passion for the man she really loves, the more she is betrayed by her own heart. If M. de Clèves

were only her lover and not her husband, perhaps Mme de Clèves would not feel so grievous at

his death. In fact, we see that Mme de Clèves remains indifferent towards the Chevalier, who is

one of her other suitors, after he finds out about her passion for Nemours and goes on to take

some other equally worthy enterprise. Duty and moral obligation, which stem from her own

austere virtue, thus seem to be the main reasons for her honoring M. de Clèves in the

aftermath of his death.

Indeed, as M. de Clèves himself remarks, from a woman like his wife, “everything but

indifference is a favor6.” Before finding out his wife’s infidelity, M. de Clèves is described to

“always have something to desire beyond possession7” despite being married to her. He often

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complains to Mme de Clèves that his company neither pleases nor disturbs her, and before

meeting M. de Nemours, she cannot comprehend those amorous feelings that her husband

asks from her. Even when Mme de Clèves confesses to have feelings for another man, it does

not seem that she confides in M. de Clèves out of her passion for her own husband, but rather

out of a sense of duty and moral obligation. Aware of his wife’s lack of passion for him, and her

new passion for another man so strong that she finds herself powerless against it without his

help, M. de Clèves is inevitably devastated. And along with the sadness that the married couple

experience after Mme de Clèves’s confession, the confidentiality shared between them leads to

feelings of distrust and disappointment.

However, we should keep in mind that Mme de Clèves is very much conscious of her

violent passion, and she goes to great lengths to restrain herself. Not having experienced such

strong passion before and without the guidance of her mother, nor the comfort of confiding in

anyone, the Princesse de Clèves’ austere virtue is her only compass. Here we recall Mme de

Clèves’ mother’s advice about “how difficult it is to preserve virtue except by an extreme

mistrust of one’s own powers and by holding fast to the only thing that can ensure a woman’s

happiness: to love one’s husband and to be loved by him8.” Yet what her mother did not explain

to her in clear enough terms is perhaps what it means to love one’s husband.

If to love one’s husband means to be honest with him, even if one makes him “unhappy

by the greatest proof of fidelity that a woman has ever given her husband 9,” then the Princesse

de Clèves does exactly as her mother’s advice. This is perhaps what M. de Clèves has in mind

too when he gives advice to his friend Sancerre, mentioning how much the sincerity of his lover,

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or even his wife, moves him. But if to love one’s husband means to deceive him deliberately, so

that he remains in the bliss of ignorance of one’s unfaithfulness, it is open to question whether

someone of the Princesse de Clèves’ character can do such a thing. Of course, there may be

more ways of interpreting what it means to love one’s husband, such as not to have feelings for

anyone other than one’s husband in the first place, or to devote oneself to one’s husband only,

even if that means excluding oneself from the dangers of keeping company with other men. But

to deny the possibility of having feelings for a man other than one’s husband in the first place

seems to be a futile negation of humanity. Who can claim with certainty that we ourselves are

in control of feelings of the heart? Reason and virtue surely aid us in taking the right course of

action, but the heart has its own reasons. To love someone therefore presupposes the

acceptance of their humanity, and of their imperfection. Although M. de Clèves’s last words

indicate that he had rather not know about his wife’s unfaithfulness, perhaps he himself does

not fully understand the implications of his words. It is hard to believe that M. de Clèves really

wishes his wife had not confessed to him. Rather, M. de Clèves’ last words suggest that he still

cannot come to terms with the fact that his wife is not as perfect as he imagined.

To be more specific, before Mme de Clèves confesses to her husband about having

feelings for another man, M. de Clèves seems to have complete confidence in her conduct and

her faithfulness towards him. In the public’s eye, Mme de Clèves appears to be unassailable,

and those who love her do not even dare to express their feelings to her explicitly. M. de

Clèves, although in title is her husband, nevertheless admits himself to be only her lover. But

one’s static reputation and public appearance have little to do with the influx of one’s private

feelings. One’s reputation is so often mistaken to be coincident with one’s inner, private

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experience that we are easily amazed when appearances no longer match what is below the

surface. It is striking that although M. de Clèves never shows any suspicions of his wife’s

infidelity, that day in the garden when Mme de Clèves falls into “a profound silence, her eyes

cast down10,” he immediately senses what she is trying to confess before anything confirming it

is said. This seems to suggest that M. de Clèves is not ignorant of the temptation of infidelity

which many people are exposed to. Yet he has such a perfect image of Mme de Clèves and such

profound confidence in her faithfulness and virtue that she seems to him immune to it. Her

confession suddenly dawns on him that even the woman of the most austere virtue cannot

escape those violent stirrings of passion. Even someone whose virtue is of utmost austerity

feels so powerless against her passions that she has no other choice but to risk losing her

worthiness in her husband’s eye by confessing to him.

We cannot help but wonder why the few people who know about Mme de Clèves’ new

passion are so surprised by it. Even Mme de Chartes is described to marvel that her daughter’s

heart remains untouched by M. de Clèves after their marriage 11, as though gratitude could be

turned into love so easily. Both the Chevalier and M. de Clèves are taken aback by the fact that

there is even a man at all who can touch Mme de Clèves’ heart. Perhaps such amazement

stems from not only Mme de Clèves’ reputation of being unassailable, but also from the rarity

of such a reputation. In the sea of love affairs of the court, where one finds oneself falling in

and out of love with different people at different times so easily, Mme de Clèves stands out as

the epitome of perfection. Mind you, that is if we grant the commonplace falling in and out of

love in the court a kind of defect in those who partake in them.

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 What seems so striking is the unparalled purity of Mme de Clèves’ heart. She has never

fallen in love with anyone before meeting M. de Nemours, and has remained untouched by her

husband’s love and devotion. Since love for Mme de Clèves is not something up for the

distribution among multiple people, nor regarded by her as a kind of worthy enterprise, it

reflects the purity of the heart of a woman whose virtue is most outstanding.

In her last conversation with Nemours at the Vidame’s house, Mme de Clèves tells him

that her feelings for him will exist eternally and unchangeably 12. She also admits that she

cannot bring herself to believe that his feelings would eternally be the same for her if they get

married. Nor does she believe that Nemours can assure her of the same thing. Mme de Clèves

perhaps has come to learn that one can never be sure of one’s own feelings, let alone anyone

else’s. M. de Clèves led her to believe that his feelings for her would be the same should she be

honest with him. Yet he fails to trust her to the same degree that he did before her confession,

and eventually brings ruin upon himself because of distrust and jealousy.

M. de Clèves finds himself unable to love his wife any longer, or at least not to the same

degree as he did before her confession. The woman he fell in love with seemed so perfect and

unassailable that he was contented with knowing that although she does not love him, at least

no man could claim to move her heart either. But after the confession, despite Mme de Clèves’

awe-inspiring act of honesty, his wife seems no longer worthy of his esteem. The one thing M.

de Clèves was able to rely on so as to persist in devoting to his wife is entirely destroyed. He

feels betrayed and disappointed. He can no longer trust her when his image of her is so

irrevocably tainted. And the disillusion M. de Clèves experiences has such a strong impact on

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him that the borderline between infidelity in thought and infidelity in action seems blurry.

Whatever interaction his wife has, or supposedly has, with Nemours is viewed under the scope

of infidelity. And that is what it means for the distinction between infidelity in thought and

infidelity in action to be significant theoretically, but not so consequential practically. Once trust

is lost in the marriage, both Mme de Clèves and her husband are prone to accusing one another

and defending themselves.

Mme de Clèves thinks on many occasions that she can control her own passions, only to

find out their almost invincibility. Not to mention, M. de Nemours has a reputation of being

involved in many love affairs, keeping company with even those women whom he does not

love. Thus it is hardly unreasonable to wonder if someone who is so amorously inclined can

experience true love and show genuine committment. Mme de Clèves therefore has an

unsurpassed grip on human nature and sees very clearly what she considers the human defect

in herself to overcome passion. Nevertheless, it does not seem to do M. de Nemours justice to

disregard his passion for Mme de Clèves as disingenuous altogether without a thorough

examination. The scope of our current project does not allow for a careful look into M. de

Nemours’ character. However, we can safely say that M. de Nemours’ passion for Mme de

Clèves brings about noticeable changes in him. Whether M. de Nemours could really prove

himself capable of having unchanged feelings for Mme de Clèves if they got married is only a

hypothesis. Mme de Clèves’ decision not to carry out the hypothesis rules out any possibility of

finding out whether M. de Nemours could be an exception to the imperfection she perceives so

often in human nature. But perhaps to Mme de Clèves, foreseeing that she might make the

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same mistake as her husband, that she cannot be rational and forgiving towards Nemours if he

loves someone else in the future, walking away is not only prudent, but inevitable.

Footnote: (The Princesse de Clèves – Translation by Terence Cave (Oxford World Classics)

1. P. 136
2. P. 46
3. P. 137
4. P. 91
5. P. 91 (“She had thought only of preventing herself from falling in love with M. de
Nemours and she had not yet begun to fear that he might love someone else.”)
6. P. 123
7. P. 22
8. P. 10
9. P. 96
10. P. 94
11. P. 21
12. P. 151