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Louise Dupin’s Work on Women
OXFORD NEW HISTORIES OF PHILOSOPHY
Series Editors
Christia Mercer, Melvin Rogers, and Eileen O’Neill (1953–2017)
Advisory Board
Lawrie Balfour, Jacqueline Broad, Marguerite Deslauriers, Karen
Detlefsen, Bachir Diagne, Don Garrett, Robert Gooding-Williams,
Andrew Janiak, Marcy Lascano, Lisa Shapiro, Tommie Shelby
Part I: Science
Article 1. Observations on the Equality of the Sexes and on Their
Difference
Article 2. On Generation
Article 3. On Temperament
Article 4. On Strength
Article 5. Animal and Plant Analogies
Appendices
Appendix A. Work on Women Articles and Manuscript Pieces
Appendix B. Anicet Sénéchal’s Inventory and Ordering of
Manuscript
Bibliography of Selected Secondary Sources
Index
Series Editors’ Foreword
Series Editors
Christia Mercer and Melvin Rogers
Acknowledgments
Selection
Out of the forty-seven articles that comprised the Work on Women
at the time Dupin stopped working on it, eight are missing and four
are in fragmentary or very rough form, leaving thirty-five in a
condition we would consider complete or likely near completion.
Twenty-six of those are featured in our edition. In making the
selection, we had two main objectives. The first was breadth, to
ensure that we had articles from each of the four thematic divisions,
and that together, they demonstrate Dupin’s methodology and style
as well as the major tenets of her argument. The second was
variety, to ensure we showcased the different ways Dupin engages
with traditions and contemporaries. In this, we were careful to
include pieces that feature her strengths, but we did not hide her
shortcomings.
Translation
We have worked to preserve the tone and economy of Dupin’s prose
and to capture her voice: her hyper-rational viewpoint, withering wit,
and occasional flights of idealism. We strove to transmit her ideas
clearly, rearranging clauses and altering sentence boundaries if
necessary. The breadth of the Work’s topics means that there are a
range of technical terms, from the sciences to the courts. The first
five articles (Part I) employ medical and scientific terms both general
and specific, which we have rendered using English equivalents from
the time period (e.g., “animal spirits”) and explanatory notes. See
the introduction to Part I for a description of how we handled the
word physique, which is particularly tricky as Dupin uses it frequently
and there is no perfectly fitting English substitute.
Court proceedings were a facet of everyday life for the wealthy
and working-class alike in eighteenth-century France, and the
language of litigation inflects Dupin’s prose. For most modern
readers this legal terminology is arcane, so we have used
explanatory notes to balance accuracy and ease. Dupin was working
at times with translations from Latin into French made by her
secretary, Rousseau. We chose to translate these passages from the
French in order to preserve consistency in style; for the most part
we have found Rousseau’s translations to be generally faithful. We
used The Roman Law Library as a resource throughout Part IV, the
Law section (https://droitromain.univ-grenoble-alpes.fr). Dupin used
the Port-Royal Bible—the French translation most commonly used in
the eighteenth century, produced at Port-Royal under the direction of
Louis-Isaac Lemaistre, sieur de Sacy, from 1657 to 1696. We
translated into English from Sacy’s French rather than substituting in
a standard English translation.
Reader’s Orientation
Manuscripts
See Appendix A for the list of articles comprising the Work on
Women, including the current location of the manuscripts used; we
provide the same information for any draft referenced in
introductions and notes.
Abbreviations
Some article and draft titles are sentence-length, so they have been
shortened in places; they contain the relevant words to allow the
reader to find them in the appendix list. In the first note of each
distinct article, we provide the full name of the archive holding the
manuscripts used for the translation; otherwise we abbreviate the
three major repositories in the following way: the Harry Ransom
Center (HRC); the Musée Jean-Jacques Rousseau (MJJR); and the
Bibliothèque de Genève (BGe).
Bibliography
Bibliographic information for all primary sources is in a note at the
first use in each section; thereafter, a shortened reference is used. A
brief selected secondary source bibliography is present in the back
matter; due to space constraints, this bibliography simply touches on
the major issues represented in our work. For sources found in the
bibliography, shortened bibliographic information is used in notes
throughout. All other secondary sources have full bibliographical
information in notes.
Chronology: Timeline of Dupin’s Life
“It is likely that chance laid the foundations, that ignorance supplied
the materials, that the desire to dominate began constructing the
edifice, and that the design to get away with the injustice [of that
domination] capped it off.”1 Louise Dupin imagines the development
of inequality between women and men through a construction
metaphor reminiscent of René Descartes’s famous architectural
analogy in the Discourse on Method (1637). Descartes’s analogy is
epistemological. He compares discarding his opinions to razing the
ricketty foundations of a city built by many hands. Dupin’s metaphor
is ethical. Through a kind of historical speculation practiced before
her by the Cartesian feminist François Poulain de la Barre, she asks
how it came to pass that men began to see themselves as superior to
women, and how it then happened that women became their legal
subordinates, excluded from goods both concrete (property) and
abstract (knowledge). Whereas Descartes uses the analogy of
compromised foundations to justify letting go “all at one go” of what
he thinks he knows,2 Dupin uses the metaphor of shoddy
construction to reveal the process by which an injustice develops,
takes hold, and comes to appear natural. Throughout a work that she
herself did not entitle the Work on Women, Dupin sketched out the
origin and foundations of inequality between men and women, just a
few years before Jean-Jacques Rousseau gained everlasting fame for
his Discourse on the Origin and Foundations of Inequality among
Men.
The scope of Dupin’s Work on Women is vast; its philosophical
edge, sharp. It is a work of political philosophy that does not just
recognize marriage as the foundation of society (as almost all early
modern political philosophy did), but that describes it as a leonine
partnership which assigns all profits to one party, all debts to the
other, and that would under normal circumstances be null and void.
The Work is moreover a work of moral philosophy that shows how
masculine vanity—Dupin’s expression for that particular form of
prejudice that we today call sexism—distorts science, history, and law
by aggrandizing men and diminishing women, sometimes to the point
of erasing them altogether. And it is a work of feminist philosophy
that analyzes the systemic disempowerment of women and attempts
to overwhelm the power that subordinates them through a vast
program of feminist recovery.
Louise Dupin’s Work on Women is, at the same time, a story. It is a
story of the interplay of hands and minds in intellectual creation. A
story of the benign neglect that envelops women’s writing and leads
to their exclusion from the stories told by entire traditions of
knowledge. A story of auctions, archives, and painstaking
reconstruction. And a story that is hopefully just beginning. In its
broadest outlines, the story of the Work on Women is one that has
been told before and will be told again by overlooked and
undervalued classes of people, who force scholars to confront the
injustices of the present, and to revise the narrative of how our
uneven skyline emerged. But the characters, the circumstances, and
the plot points of this story are absolutely unique. The opening
premise of the story of Louise Dupin’s Work on Women is that it is
only thanks to Rousseau that any of it still exists. Well, thanks to his
handwriting. Jean-Jacques Rousseau was Louise Dupin’s secretary.
Reappearing Ink
“3000 pages of Rousseau dispersed in auctions!” announced Bernard
Gagnebin in the April 26, 1958 issue of the Journal de Genève.3 The
conservator of manuscripts at Public and University Library of Geneva
devoted over half a page of the paper to informing the public of the
contents of the Hôtel Drouot’s sale of thousands of pages featuring
Rousseau’s handwriting in five auctions in 1951, 1957, and 1958. But
the headline was the equivalent of clickbait. Gagnebin’s main worry is
that “an unscrupulous or simply ignorant bookseller [might try to]
pass off as Rousseau’s what is really only Dupin’s!” In the face of a
false alarm, the 1958 reader of the Genevan weekly might have let
their attention wander to the bottom third of the page, where Marcel
Raymond reviews Jean Starobinski’s Jean-Jacques Rousseau:
Transparency and Obstacle (1957).4 That instant classic uplifts
Rousseau’s ideal of transparency, his lament of its impossibility, and
the motif of the veil throughout his work.
One of the secrets Rousseau veils in his autobiography, the
Confessions (1782, 1789), was a project that occupied almost six
years of his life (1745–1751). He describes his secretarial work for
Dupin in a single sentence: “She never used me except to write
under her dictation, or in research of pure erudition.”5 Dupin likely
requested his discretion; members of her inner circle were aware of
her project, and others seem to have had an inkling of it,6 but she
had neither published it, nor circulated pieces of it in manuscript
form. In any case, Rousseau had no desire to flaunt his participation
in a feminist project.7 “To maintain vaguely that the sexes are equal
and that their duties are the same,” he declares in Emile, or On
Education (1762), “is to lose oneself in vain declaiming.”8
Declamations were rhetorical exercises of praise and blame typical in
the Renaissance Querelle des femmes that Dupin aspired to
transcend: “Wouldn’t we do better to seek to understand [men and
women] equitably without making declamations?”9 We wonder how
Dupin responded to her former secretary’s veiled slight that the entire
Work on Women was nothing but vain declamation.
Rousseau’s silence about his work for Dupin set the stage for the
nonreception of her Work for the next two hundred years. Poulain de
la Barre imagines that learned women in the past disappeared from
historical record because “the demands of etiquette” prevented them
from acquiring “any disciples or followers,” so that all of their learning
died with them.10 But the phenomenon of women’s “disappearing
ink” required the complicity of subsequent generations, Dupin argues
(Art. 12).11 The fate of the Work on Women itself exemplifies the
“process of submersion” that “later male gatekeepers” visited on
early modern women’s accomplishments.12
In 1884, Gaston de Villeneuve-Guibert, Dupin’s great grandnephew
published a prized portion of his inheritance: the contents of a
“portfolio in red Morocco leather of the time, all stamped with fine
gold ornamentation and fastened with a charming closure of chiseled
silver.” Villeneuve-Guibert confirms his great-great aunt’s wit as a
salonnière and affirms her lesser-known credentials as a writer:
She had conceived the project of defending and avenging her sex in a work
on women. To that end, she had assembled countless documents, rummaged
through many libraries, consulted all the books dealing with illustrious
women; and more: she scrutinized laws and decrees that set out the rights
of women from the most distant past. [ . . . ] She approached this gigantic
task with great ardor, and Rousseau made himself useful to her.13
It was the job of the secretary to write neatly, and the prerogative
of the employer to write sloppily.47 Dupin’s angular scrawl was not
necessarily a mark of her lack of formal education, but her
nonstandard spelling was (see Figure 3). French spelling was
beginning to be standardized in the eighteenth century, based on
etymological principles relating to Latin. Latin was deemed
superfluous for girls, and although Dupin had some Latin training,48
evidently she did not learn these rules. Like most literate women, she
“fell back on the phonetic spelling the uneducated had been using for
generations, modified more or less by their familiarity with printed
models.”49 In copying out clean drafts, Rousseau would smooth out
Dupin’s spelling quirks (such as her doubling of consonants in
obbsservations); flesh out her abbreviations (h. for homme; f. for
femme; p for pour or premier; m for mais, q for que, and = ité for
égalité); and integrate corrections and additions she had made to the
previous draft. To accommodate corrections, the page is divided into
two columns. Rousseau writes in the right-hand column, where Dupin
makes small edits, crossing out words and inserting words between
the lines. The left-hand column is blank, to provide space for Dupin’s
additions.50 Dupin indicates the place where the addition should go
with matching symbols. Seeing a 0 in the right column, Rousseau
would look for the same 0 in the left column, and would, in the new
draft, insert that addition at that spot.
Figure 3 Dupin’s hand with abbreviations from Article 23, “On Education.” Courtesy
of The William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, University of California, Los
Angeles.
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