Tables of man in the state of nature
Imagine an empty, purely conceptual space. In this space, the pure eye of the philosopher arranges the abstract figure of Man. Not a man, nor even an origin of man; but the conceptual plenitude of Man with a capital H. The eye examines this figure calmly what does it see ? What it sees is the paradoxical picture Rousseau gives us at the start of the second Discourse :
" However important it may be, in order to judge properly the natural state of Man, to consider him from his origin, and to examine him, as it were, in the first Embryo of the species ; I will not follow his organization through his successive developpemens : I won't stop to investigate in the Animal System what it may have been in the beginning, to finally become what it is I won't examine whether, as Aristotle thinks, its elongated nails were not first hooked claws I will not examine whether, as Aristotle thinks, his elongated fingernails were not at first hooked claws; whether he was not hairy as a bear, and whether, walking on four feet, his eyes directed towards the Earth, and limited to a horizon of a few steps, did not mark both the character, and the limits of his ideas. I could only form vague and almost imaginary conjectures on this subject. [...] I shall suppose him to have been conformed from time immemorial, as I see him today". (OC III 134 1)
The abstraction of Man is not a derealization, on the contrary : its culmination is man " as I see him today ", the most concrete, ordinary reality, the most empirical experience of what it is to be a man. But this man of everyday, intuitive experience only stands before me2 as a tableau of Man taken as a concept after a long series of denials and suppressions : " I will not follow ", " I will not stop ", " I will not examine ", " I could not form ". The concrete picture we end up with is abstracted from the original conceptual space by successive deletions of images here, Rousseau tells us, is everything that is not the Man I have before you as a figure from which to engage my discourse. See all these images, remove them from your mind, let's start again from the ordinary man, and we'll have the Man of discourse.
The effect of such a denial is that of a picture arranged for an overheard scene. A picture, or a succession of pictures (the " successive developments " of man, his origin and his becoming), must be removed to pose a face to face : emerging from the abstract space from which he frees himself through the negation of images, Man enters the scene to look at nature. The rejected image of the man incapable of looking, that four-legged Aristotelian conjecture whose "eyes directed towards the earth, and limited to a horizon of a few steps, [marked] both the character, and the limits of his ideas ", contrasts with the claimed image of Man " bearing his gaze on all nature and measuring with his eyes the vast expanse of heaven "3.
This Man is a negation of abstraction : he is not without4 the concrete dimension of a man of common experience. The reader is thus offered a doubly crossed-out image, as a device superimposing a genesis (the " successive developments "), a taxonomy (the " animal system ") and a blindness (" his gaze directed towards the earth "), three failings from which we must abstract ourselves so that, from the object, a gaze can emerge (" bearing his gaze on all nature "), and, from there, begin a discourse.
Man steps forward, then, his eyes boldly raised to the sky, whose vastness he measures. This is the posture of the opera actor who, as the music unfolds around him, steps forward and draws with his eye the abstract space of the performance in which he is inscribed. The gaze comes from in front of him not Rousseau, the philosopher, looking at man at his origin, but Man, " conforming to all times ", arranged facing him and looking5.
This originary experience is that of the aphanisis6. The object of discourse is and is not before me it presents itself to me in the imaging concreteness of a negation of abstraction. It unfolds from " embryo of the species " to " what it is ", it develops, its nails lengthen, and then it all falls back : " vague, and almost imaginary conjectures ", " observations [...] too uncertain ", neither " foundation " nor " basis ". But here is the conjecture again, in a new imaginary thrust : " as he applied his limbs to new uses, and fed on new foods "...
It's not just a question, for the reader invited to this virtual experience of observation7, of surprising an impossible picture : Rousseau directs our gaze towards a stripping away (" by stripping this Being... of all supernatural gifts... and of all artificial faculties... ") and towards contentment (" satiating herself under an oak tree, quenching her thirst at the first stream "), that is, towards the paradox of Psyche's gaze on sleeping Eros, whom she illuminates with her lamp : instead of the expected monster, the dazzling beauty of sex and its disappearance, the unfolding of a scene and its withdrawal8.
Rousseau's Man is Psyche's Eros, observed and immediately subtracted, looked at but looking, and evading immediately grasped. The liminal experience of the second Discourse, this tableau disposed in denial, echoes what is at play in the castration complex, the advent, through Man's aphanisis, of a signifier of the absence of signifier, from which a discourse can begin.
In this way, we touch on Rousseau's extremely complex relationship to the spectacle9, which he summons as a liminal disposition, as an original stage from which to engage a discourse, but which he necessarily repudiates in the same movement, constituting the signs of his discourse from these crossed-out tableaux10. The spectacle is a set of tableaux laid out for a scene heard, i.e. a scene that is not that of the self, but rather that of the world it's the actor stepping forward with eyes raised, measuring the sky with his gaze. On the other hand, the negation, the abstraction of these tableaux, because it articulates the emergence of the signifying game with the aphanisis of the castration complex, always radically engages the ego, in its most intimate dimension, at the heart of the conceptualization process. The voice of the ego, the word of interiority, originates in the abstraction of paintings.
What Man sees: the spectacle of nature
Rousseau always comes back to this man who contemplates the spectacle of nature : it's Saint-Preux in the mountains of Valais11 ; it's Émile with Jean-Jacques in the forest of Montmorency in Book III of the Émile12 ; it is, preceding his profession of faith, the Savoyard vicar's rendezvous with Jean-Jacques, above the Po plain, in Book IV.
In the episode of the Savoyard vicar's profession of faith, the spectacle of nature works as an interface. It comes after the story of Jean-Jacques' wanderings, his encounter with the vicar and the comparison with the latter's youthful adventures. This narrative, this encounter, this comparison lay out a series of tableaux, which must enter into conjunction for the show to be possible :
" Ah ! What sad tableaux, I wrote bitterly ! if we have to refuse everything, what good has it done us to be born, and if we have to despise happiness itself, who knows how to be happy ? " (OC IV 564)
What is the nature of these paintings ? The image is not given to us. First, it is, after what we can reconstruct from the more circumstantial account in the Confessions13 as the attempted rape of which Jean-Jacques was the victim, the picture of the morals of the Turin catechumens :
" He saw only vile servants subject to the infamous one who outraged him, or accomplices in the same crime, who mocked his resistance and excited him to imitate them. " (OC IV 559)
The nightmare of abjection that the young proselyte is given to see paints a picture out of our sight : the narrative suggests its image only through ellipsis and allusion.
It is then, after the allusion to the vicar's fault, " qu'une avanture de jeunesse avoit mis avec son Évêque " (p. 560), the promise of a future confession (" he made me understand that after receiving my confessions, he wanted to make me his ", p. 565) : the profession of faith supplements this confession, but remains very allusive on the adventure in question :
" my respect for other people's beds left my faults uncovered. [...] Seeing sad observations overturn the ideas I had of justice, honesty and all the duties of man, [...] I gradually felt the evidence of principles darken in my mind " (OC IV 567)
What the vicar sees, like what Jean-Jacques saw, is an obscuration, a negative image, the picture of the absence of a picture, a negation of vision. The first vision abstracts the real, it withdraws it from itself, and only this experience of pure negativity can prepare the moment of the spectacle, which reverses the negative image into a metaphysical face-to-face with the real, into a spectacle of nature.
This spectacle is first and foremost that of a projection :
" It was summer ; we got up at the crack of dawn. He led me out of the city, to a high hill below which passed the Po, whose course could be seen through the fertile banks it bathes. In the distance, the immense chain of the Alps crowned the landscape. The rays of the rising sun were already grazing the plains, casting long shadows on the fields, trees, hills and houses, enriching with a thousand accents of light the most beautiful picture the human eye can be struck by. It was as if nature were displaying all her magnificence before our eyes, to offer a text for our conversation. It was there, after having contemplated these objects in silence for some time, that the man of peace spoke to me as follows..." (Emile, Book IV, OC IV 565)
Rousseau isn't just giving us an overheard scene, a sort of obligatory signature of the Enlightenment, which recurs in each of his productions and is found throughout contemporary literature14. Here, the spectacle of nature is the prerequisite for the profession of faith15, coming " to offer the text to our talks ". It follows on from the " sad tableaux " of the preliminary interviews with the vicar, where the work of negativity was deployed, and, triggering the elevation of the gaze, operates the reversal of the aphanisis : nature caught at its daily rising, disappearing and reappearing, the mountain that cuts the breath and triggers the verb, lay out the metaphysical stage of speech, which is at the same time the concrete, immediate and sensitive space of the gaze.
.
As the sun rises from behind the Alps, it casts the long shadows of the objects its rays encounter across the landscape. Spectacle barré : light crosses the sublime bar of the Alpine horizon, striking objects and unfolding them as shadows. The mystical resonance of such an arrangement is not accidental. Just before the act of faith that is the vicar's discourse, the spectacle of nature visually prefigures, if not the content, at least the aim. The light above the peaks, literally sublime, is both the light of nature and the illumination of grace, which it is a matter of contemplating face to face : " Today we see by means of a mirror, in an obscure way, but then we shall see face to face " (I Corinthians, 13, 12).
On the world, this light is projected as shadow : the skiagraphia, in image theology, is shadow writing, (pre)figuration, and thereby the deceptive proper of all representation16 but in the theater, the skiagraphia is the illusion of trompe-l'œil and décor17, the very beginning, then, and the setting for the show. The screen of the mountains and its scattering across the landscape in " thousand accidents of light " is the mystical screen of the tabernacle at the same time as the natural circumscription of nature's theater.
This spectacle of nature prefigures the profession of faith, and the profession of faith supplements the spectacle of nature. The whole discourse will tend to rejoin, to bring back into the order of language, this second, sensitive and blissful experience.
The spectacle of nature prefigures the profession of faith, and the profession of faith supplements the spectacle of nature.
First, then, the arrangement of the paintings, where the negativity of the image works; this is the first experience then the aphanisis of the spectacle of nature, a second experience finally, the deployment of discourse, a third experience of substitution, tending towards a return to visual plenitude. Through language, through the mind, the vicar prepares himself for the contemplation offered directly, immediately, by the rendezvous on the mountain :
" What! I can observe and understand beings and their relationships, I can feel what order, beauty and virtue are, I can contemplate the universe and raise myself up to the hand that governs it, I can love goodness and do good, and yet I compare myself to animals? " (OC IV 582)
We find here the same movement of the gaze that opened the second discourse there is only one spectacle worthy of the name it is that which Man commands, when he ceases to look at the earth and his feet and with his eye measures the expanse of the sky. This elevating spectacle is fulfilled in the discourse that accompanies it : a discourse of order and relationships, a taxonomic discourse that nurtures " in my mind the sublime ideas of the soul ", it institutes Emile18's natural religion, i.e. the primary feeling of the spectacle of nature it causes and is caused, it accomplishes and originates19.
A pedagogical device?
In the Émile itself, this experience of the spectacle is prepared for in Book III by the episode in the forest of Montmorency. Jean-Jacques has taught Émile the notion of utility :
" What good is that? That is now the sacred word, the decisive word between him and me in all the actions of our lives: that is the question that inevitably follows all his questions on my part, and which serves as a brake on the multitude of silly and tedious questions with which children tirelessly and fruitlessly exhaust all those around them. " (OC IV 446).
But it doesn't take long for the pupil to turn the restriction against his tutor from now on, it's impossible to give him the slightest instruction in geography, or astronomy Émile, who doesn't see how it could be useful to him, refuses to take any interest. So his tutor decides to lose him in the forest of Montmorency.
" At last we sit down to rest, to deliberate. Emile, whom I suppose raised as another child, does not deliberate, he cries ; he does not know that we are at the gate of Montmorenci and that a simple copse hides him from us ; but this copse is a forest for him, a man of his stature is buried in bushes. " (OC IV 448-9)
The beginning of the experiment is, once again, an obscure tableau. Émile sees nothing, can see nothing : a simple copse, however, steals his view of Montmorency, where room and board await him. The coppice acts as a screen, stealing the image the initial experience is one of vision prevented, blocked. Jean-Jacques then puts Émile on the right track:
Emile's first experience is that of a blocked vision.
" It's noon ? This is precisely the time we were observing the position of the forest yesterday from Montmorenci. If we could similarly observe from the forest the position of Montmorenci ? ...
Emile.
Yes ; but yesterday we could see the forest, and from here we can't see the town.
Jean-Jacques.
That's the trouble... If we could do without seeing it to find its position...
[...]
Emile.
That's true all you have to do is look for the opposite of the shadow. Oh voilà le sud, voilà le sud ! Surely Montmorenc is on this side let's look on this side.
Jean-Jacques.
You may be right ; let's take this path through the woods.
The spectacle of the city unfolds after the defeated shadow, turned against itself to point the way. The enjoyment of the spectacle is the enjoyment of this ambivalent relationship with the shadow, which refers back to the primary obscuration of the gaze and at the same time opens up to the mastery of places through the use of acquired abstract knowledge. Enjoyment in nature, at the end of a long walk whose exhaustion has been skilfully programmed by the preceptor; but also operatic enjoyment, in front of the sight change of the scenery, making appear, in the engraving after Moreau le jeune20, the familiar steeple behind the threatening shadow of the forest.
The spectacle here is again that of an apparition-disappearance, a aphanisis, from which a discourse becomes possible : " astronomy is good for something " a certain scientific discourse becomes audible for Émile. So it's not just a matter of working with the negativity of images, an initial experience of blurring and obscuring that makes the show possible. This negativity, these empty or disappointing pictures, must have been arranged according to a certain project21 :
" Or be sure that he will not forget the lesson of this day for the rest of his life ; instead of if I had only supposed all this to him in his room, my speech would have been forgotten by the next day. One must speak as much as one can through actions and only say what one cannot do. " (OC IV 451)
It is the preceptor who has prepared the reports22 that Émile establishes to find his way back : it is these reports that prepare the conclusion Émile draws, that astronomy is good for something. Émile is caught in a device, whose pedagogical effectiveness is far more powerful than that of discourse. But this device, in itself, is not specifically pedagogical. It's the one in which every show is caught and pursued, unfolding into a thought experiment.
In the same way in Book IV, for the vicar, the spectacle of nature leads to the perception of relationships : without relationships, vision remains a fragmentary, scattered image there is no spectacle :
" To see two objects at once is not to see their relations, nor to judge their differences to apperceive several objects apart from each other is not to number them. I can have at the same time the idea of a large stick and a small stick without comparing them, without judging that one is smaller than the other, just as I can see my whole hand at once without counting my fingers. [...]
Whether we give this or that name to the force of my mind that brings together and compares my sensations whether we call it attention, meditation, reflection, or whatever we like always it is true that it is in me and not in things, that it is I alone who produce it, although I only produce it on the occasion of the impression that objects make on me. [
I am therefore not merely a sensory and passive being, but an active and intelligent being, and whatever philosophy may say, I will dare to claim the honor of thinking. " (OC IV 572-3)
It's necessary to move from fingers to hands, from arranged paintings to the heard scene. Whether or not a preceptor organizes this passage, the advent of the spectacle, the oceanic apprehension of the visible presupposes beforehand the active perception of the relationships between things and, to give them meaning, the intense activity of the mind. The experience of the spectacle therefore not only conditions the production of discourse it comes about through " this force of my mind which brings together and compares my sensations " and constitutes the form of thought.
Thought and paranoia
The spectacle as a form of Rousseauist thought : the formula may seem paradoxical, when we think of the strong condemnation of the Lettre à D'Alembert, even if, as we shall have understood, this spectacle there, of and in nature, has nothing to do with a critique that targets the moral spring of plays and the worldly use of urban entertainment venues23.
Or it is indeed the same scenario that repeats itself from text to text. At the beginning of the first dialogue of Rousseau juge de Jean Jaques, Rousseau develops before the François the allegory of an ideal world whose inhabitants provide him with the model of himself, author of Émile and Héloïse.
" Figure, then, an ideal world similar to our own, and nevertheless quite different. Nature there is the same as on our earth, but the economy is more sensitive, the order is more marked, the spectacle more admirable the forms are more elegant, the colors more vivid, the odors more suave, all the objects more interessans. All of nature is so beautiful that its contemplation inflames souls with love for such a touching picture, and inspires them with the desire to contribute to this beautiful system, the fear of disturbing its harmony, and from this is born an exquisite sensitivity that gives those who are endowed with it immediate pleasures, unknown to hearts that the same contemplations have not aroused. " (OC I 668)
To bring reality into representation, we must begin by denying reality " Let us begin, then, by discarding all facts ", proclaimed the introduction to the second discourse (OC III 132) " Figure, then, an ideal model " constitutes a sort of replica and echo. Allegory places one or more images before the reader's eye, but at the same time denies them, bars them as unreal : " I search uselessly in my head for what there can be in common between the fantastic beings you describe and the monster we were talking about earlier ", the Frenchman will soon grumble. A world " similar to ours, and nevertheless quite different " : the allegorical world refers to our world, and at the same time differs radically from it, distorted by the hypersensitive apprehension of reality shared by its inhabitants, or rather its unique inhabitant, Jean-Jacques. From this impossible, unassimilable world, Rousseau sets up the ideal focus of an admirable spectacle, a tableau laid out for immediate enjoyment. Shapes, colors, smells, objects blossom in the negative frame of an unreal allegory, itself elicited in reaction to the abject liminal evocation of the " abominable man ", the " soul of mud ", the " perverse man ", the " moral corpse ".
The ideal world emerges as the negation of negation : an unreal allegory in counterpoint to an abominable portrait, it returns to the real through this double reversal, this aphanisis. This is where a certain language is made and recognized, the style and distinctive signs of Rousseau's language :
" Beings so singularly constituted must necessarily express themselves differently from ordinary men. It is impossible that with souls so differently modified, they should not bear in the expression of their feelings and ideas the imprint of these modifications. [...] It is a characteristic sign which initiates recognize among themselves, and what gives great value to this sign, so little known and even less used, is that it cannot be counterfeited" (OC I 672).
Language is made visible in the spectacle of allegory. It manifests itself as a trace, an imprint of the modification of the real by which allegory is defined, that is, of the difference that the spectacle makes work, of the double negativity of the image that turns and turns on itself. In the Dialogues , this imprint, this difference by which Rousseauist discourse and thought are constituted from the allegorical spectacle, takes on the dramatic dimension of a paranoid schize, splitting the subjective instance into two antagonistic fragments, " the Author of Books and the Author of Crimes " (p. 674), Rousseau and Jean-Jacques. But this psychotic split was always already there of the real man and the metaphysical man, of the mystic and the renegade, of the man of desire and the impotent, of the allegorical angel and the perverse monster.
The show, by orchestrating the interplay of relationships that thought establishes, reconciles this ever-present split with the enjoyment of a unity held at the edge of the abyss of aphanisis. Only the detour of fiction, its lure and its clouds, can enable this marvelous exercise in lucidity to unfold its signs and discourse above the abyss of a psychic collapse that always lurks.
Notes
References are given in the Œuvres complètes, III, " Du Contrat social. Écrits politiques ", ed. B. Gagnebin and M. Raymond, Galimard, Nrf, Pléiade, 1964. The Œuvres complètes are abbreviated OC.
Victor Goldsmith likens this thought experiment to Cartesian introspection, which serves as a model also for Condillac (the statue) and Locke (the internal sense). See Victor Goldsmith, Anthropology and Politics. Les principes du système de Rousseau, Vrin, 1974, p. 115-117.
Compare with Diderot's apostrophe to Loutherbourg, in the Salon of 1765 : " Leave your studio only to go and consult nature. Dwell in the fields with her ; go and see the sun rise and set, the sky color with clouds. [...] Turn your eyes to the mountain tops; there they begin to pierce the vaporous ocean. Precipitate your steps, climb quickly to some high hill, and from there contemplate the surface of this ocean which undulates softly above the earth, and discovers as it sinks the tops of the steeples, the tops of the trees, the ridges of the houses, the towns, the villages, the whole forests, the whole scene of nature illuminated with the light of the star of day " (Diderot, Œuvres complètes, Hermann, 1984, t.XIV, ed. E.-M. Bukdahl, A. Lorenceau, G. May, p. 211-2. This edition will henceforth be abbreviated DPV).
" The access of desire requires that the subject not be without having. Having what? That's where the question lies. In other words, that access to desire resides in a fact, in the fact that the covetousness of the so-called human being has to inaugurally depress itself in order to restore itself to the echelons of a power, the question of which is what it is, but above all, this power, towards which it strives. Now, what it visibly strives towards, noticeably through all the metamorphoses of human desire, it seems, is towards something ever more sensitive, ever more precise, which is apprehended for us as this central hole " (Lacan, Le Séminaire, IX, " L'identification ", chap. 16, session of April 4, 1962, unpublished seminar).
The human eye focused on policed society theatricalizes it and at the same time corrupts it. See Huguette Krief, " Le pinceau d'un Le Brun ", Jean-Jacques Rousseau et les arts visuels, ed. F. S. Eigeldinger, Droz, 2003, p. 337.
Lacan, Le Séminaire, VIII, " Le transfert ", chap. 16, " Psyché et le complexe de castration ", Seuil, " Champ freudien ", 1991, p. 271sq ; XI, " Les quatre concepts fondamentaux de la psychanalyse ", chap. 16-17, " Le sujet et l'Autre ", Seuil, " Champ feudien ", 1973, p. 189, 191, 199, 203. The notion of aphanisis (literally, disappearance, i.e. the anguish of the disappearance of the penis, and hence of the disappearance of desire) comes from Ernest Jones (1927, reprinted in The Theory and Practice of Psychoanalysis, 1948). It takes on a different meaning with Lacan, who links it to the subject's access to the signifier : as a result, the aphanisis is both appearance (in the order of the signifier) and disappearance (in the order of the visible).
The Observation article in the Encyclopédie is entirely stretched between the necessity of a visual and material presence of the observed object, and the impossibility of being content with this presence. The hand of the workman, the optical instruments of the astronomer, the naturalist, the physicist supplement natural sight ; and if " the facts [...] are the material of observation ", it is first their combination, then what the imagination supplements that enables the edifice of science to be built : " it sometimes happens that the imagination of the architect makes up for the defect in the number & ratio of materials, & that he succeeds in making them serve his purposes, however defective they may be this is the case of those bold & eloquent theorists, who, lacking the patience necessary for observation, content themselves with having collected a few facts, bind them at once by some ingenious system, & make their opinions plausible and seductive by the colorful strokes they use, the variety and strength of their colors, and the striking and sublime images in which they present their ideas can we refuse to admire, almost to believe, when we read Epicurus, Lucrece, Aristotle, Plato, & M. de Buffon ? de Buffon ? " (XI, 313, unsigned article)
Likewise when rousseau stages the birth of pity from the spectacle of " une bête féroce arracha,t un enfant du sein de sa mère " (OC III 152 and Huguette Krief, art. cit., p. 351).
On the polysemy of the word, see Frédéric Lefebvre, " La société, le spectateur et la perspective ", Jean-Jacques Rousseau et les arts visuels, dir. F. S. Eigeldinger, Droz, 2003, p. 62-63. It seems difficult, however, to dissociate the social and natural spectacle from the theatrical spectacle, which is not merely a metaphor for it, and in this spectacle the theatrical play of vision, optics and perspective.
See, in this perspective, the analysis offered by Jean-Christophe Sampieri : " Le problème de l'image dans le chapitre I de l'Essai sur l'origine des langues ", Résistances de l'image, PENS, 1992, p. 225-243.
" I barely spent eight days traveling through a country that would require years of observation [...]. I wanted to dream, and I was always diverted by some unexpected spectacle. [...] After wandering in the clouds, I reached a more serene sojourn from which one sees, in season, thunder and storm forming u dessous de soi " (La Nouvelle Héloïse, I, 23, OC II 77-8).
The spectacle of nature enables Émile to determine north and south and find his way back to Montmorency : " Ah I see Montmorenci ! There it is, all in front of us, all uncovered. Let's have lunch, let's have dinner, let's run fast : astronomy is good for something. " (Émile, book III, OC IV 450).
Les Confessions, livre second, OC I 66sq.
See, for example, Condillac's virtual blind man acceding to sight : " one must not believe that at the moment he opens his eyes, he is already enjoying the spectacle that this admirable mingling of lumiere & of color produces in all nature. [...] What a picture the universe is to eyes opening to light for the first time. " (Essai on the Origin of Human Knowledge, I, Section 6, §13)
The spectacle of nature has become a hackneyed apologetic argument. See for example Le Spectacle de la nature by Noël Antoine Pluche (whose reading enchanted Rousseau) : " Quand on veut être simple & naturel, on est contraint d'avoüer que si la nature nous est assez dévoilée pour nous presenter un grand spectacle, le dessous & l'intérieur du spectacle nous demeurent cachés : the play of machines is unknown to us the particular structure of each part & the composition of the whole are things that pass us by. We see the outside and use it. But intelligence or a clear view of the depths and mechanics of nature does not seem to be a grace granted to our present state. We're like travellers walking on the brink of a fine day. Une lueur réjoüissante, quoique foible, commence à colorer les objets... " (Le Spectacle de la Nature, ou Entretiens sur les particularités de l'histoire naturelle, Première partie, tome I, Amsterdam, aux dépens de la Compagnie, 1741, p. 522)
See also the dialogue between Diderot and his abbé cicerone in the Promenade Vernet, where Diderot turns this argument on its head: " Which of your artists, said my cicerone, would have imagined breaking the continuity of this rocky causeway by this clump of trees... Vernet perhaps... [...] You may say Vernet, Vernet I will not leave nature...". to chase after his image. However sublime man may be ; he is not God. " (Salon de 1767, Premier site de la Promenade Vernet, DPV XVI 176-7)
In Plato, skiagraphia denotes trompe-l'oeil painting, the illusion or visual confusion of painting (e.g. Parmenides, 165c-d). But in Byzantine culture, the term takes on a theological significance : the skiagraphia is the image, the trace produced by the divine mystery, to which the painter adds the brilliance of color (John Damascene). It is also a figure of the ancient Law, to which is added the color of Christian Revelation (Cyril of Alexandria). See Marie-José Mondzain, Image, icône, économie, les sources byzantines de l'imaginaire contemporain, Seuil, L'ordre philosophique, 1996, p. 126-7 and 129. There is also, among Byzantine mystics, another aspect of skiagraphia : its partial, composite character, which is resolved into One only by and in the Light (Gregory of Nazianzus, D 30, 17 and 38,7, see Francis Gautier, " Gregory of Nazianzus, the mirror of Intelligence or dialogue with the Light ", Theologiques, vol. 16, n°2, 2008, p. 40-41).
Emmanuelle Hénin, Ut pictura theatrum, Théâtre et peinture de la Renaissance italienne au classicisme français, Droz, 2003, p. 222, who repeats here the analyses of Agnès Rouveret, Histoire et imaginaire de la peinture ancienne, École française de Rome, 1989, p. 57. On the distinction between skiagraphia (or adumbratio) and scænographia, which identifies skiagraphia with stage architecture, see Vitruvius, De Architectura, I, 2, 8 and Daniele Barbaro's commentary (1567).
" It is very simple and very holy, I believe it of all the religions that are on earth the one whose morals are purest and whose reason is best content. " (OC IV 631)
Derrida shows how L'Essai sur l'origine des langues proceeds from the same movement : " the passion that tears out the first voices has to do with the image. [...] Eloquence has to do with the image. [...] Metaphor in spoken language draws its energy from the visible and from a kind of oral picto-hiéroglyphie " (De la grammatologie, III, 339). In other words, spectacle precedes speech, and speech emerges from spectacle. But " only speech has the power to express or excite passion " (p. 341) : caused by passion, speech in turn causes passion, according to the Derridean logical circle that defines the logic of the supplement.
Indeed, " the only pantomime without speech will leave you almost alone ", writes Rousseau (OC V 378). It is speech that ensures the theatrical effect of the visual spectacle, completes it, accomplishes it, and at the same time destroys its presence: " The presence to oneself of the voice and of hearing oneself speak steals the very thing that visible space let be before us. As the thing disappears, the voice substitutes a sign " (Gramm., p. 342). As a system of signs, discourse becomes autonomous, detached from the living presence of pantomime. This detachment is the seed of the corruption that will lead Rousseau to condemn theater and identify the advent of speech with a catastrophe, because it introduces into representation the " supplementarity " of the sign (word for gesture, sound for image...) : " it is this faculty of supplementarity that is the true origin of languages : articulation in general, as the articulation of nature and convention, of nature and all its others. " (Gramm., p. 343)
Collection complette des œuvres de J. J. Rousseau, tome troisième, Émile, ou de l'éducation. Par J. J. Rousseau citoyen de Genève, tome premier, London [Bruxelles, J. L. de Boubers], 1774, engraving by Noël le Mire after Jean-Michel Moreau le Jeune for book III, face p. 226, dated 1778.
The series of prints designed by Moreau le Jeune was not the first series intended to illustrate the Émile : the original 1762 edition was illustrated with mythological plates drawn by Eisen. See Isabelle Michel, " Les illustrations de l'Émile au XVIIIe siècle : questions d'iconographie ", Jean-Jacques Rousseau et les arts visuels, dir. F. S. Eigeldinger, Droz, 2003, esp. p. 543. Isabelle Michel rightly likens Moreau's work on Émile to his prints for Œuvres of Molière, produced a year earlier. Compare, for example, " L'astronomie... " with the frontispiece to L'École des femmes in volume II. The stage is the model for representation, which therefore does not put forward a process, a demonstrative and pedagogical march, but rather a spectacle that is unveiled, a curtain that opens.
Compare this with what Diderot writes about the workings of his imagination, transformed by the experience of art. We must suppose, he says, " that I have taken to arranging my figures in my head, as if they were on canvas ; that perhaps I transport them there, and that it is on a large wall that I look, when I write " (Salon de 1767, article Lagrenée, DPV XVI 153). The empty virtual wall is the preliminary support for the spectacular device of thought.
The notion of rapport is central to the development of Book III of the Émile : the child's understanding is not yet accessible to " the knowledge of the rapports of man " (p.428) ; " The child perceives objects, but he cannot perceive the rapports that bind them, he cannot hear the sweet harmony of their concert. He needs an experience he has not acquired, he needs feelings he has not experienced, to feel the compound impression that results from all these sensations at once " (p. 431) ; " Undoubtedly one takes much clearer & much surer notions of the things which one thus learns from oneself than from those which one holds from the teachings of others, and besides that one does not accustom one's reason to submit slavishly to authority one makes oneself more ingenious in finding rapports, in linking ideas, in inventing instruments... " (p. 442) ; " our true masters are experience and feeling, and never does man feel well what suits man than in the rapports in which he has found himself " (p. 445) ; " The rapports of effects to causes whose connection we do not apperceive, goods and evils of which we have no idea, needs we have never felt are null for us " (p.453) ; " On what abundance of interesting objects can one not turn the curiosity of a student without ever leaving the real and material relationships that are within his reach " (p.462) ; " Spy carefully the secret conclusions that he draws in his heart from all his observations. [...] Not yet knowing how to appropriate things by material enjoyment, he can only judge their suitability or unsuitability for him by sensitive relationships " (p. 463-4) ; " The mind that forms its ideas only on real raports is a solid mind ; the one that is content with apparent raports is a superficial mind : the one that sees raports as they are is a just mind the one that appreciates them badly is a false mind : the one that finds raports. He who does not compare is a fool. The greater or lesser aptitude for comparing ideas and finding raports, is what makes men more or less witty, etc " (p. 481).
Rousseau relies here on Condillac (see Richard Glauser, " Of all our senses the most faulty ", Jean-Jacques Rousseau et les arts visuels, ed. F. S. Eigeldinger, Droz, 2003, pp.37-39), for whom, however, the mind is governed not by rapport but by liaison (Essais sur l'origine des connaissances humaines, I, 1, 15 ; 2, 17 ; 3, 28). Rapport introduces distancing and the " faire tableau " of the spectacle, understood as a hermeneutic device from which to unfold the very march of the mind.
The spectacle of theater is a spectacle that does not allow for the establishment of relationships : " I don't like it that one needs to incessantly attach one's heart to the Scéne, as if it were ill at ease within us. [...] One thinks one is assembled at the Spectacle, and it is there that each one isolates himself " (OC V 15-16).
Référence de l'article
Stéphane Lojkine, « Tableaux disposés, scènes entendues : la gestion du spectacle dans la fiction et dans la paranoïa rousseauistes », Rousseau et le spectacle, dir. Christophe Martin, Jacques Berchtold, Yannick Séité, Armand Colin, coll. Recherches, 2014, p. 325-338.
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