CHAPTER XV “The Long Vacation”
“When I talk of friendship, I mean _true_ friendship,” he repeated emphatically; and I could hardly believe that words so earnest had blessed my ear; I hardly could credit the reality of that kind, anxious look he gave. If he _really_ wished for my confidence and regard, and _really_ would give me his—why, it seemed to me that life could offer nothing more or better. In that case, I was become strong and rich: in a moment I was made substantially happy. (¶ 93)
- Charolotte Brontë Villette
(Chapter XXXV, “Fraternity”)
Friendships develop and subsist in myriad ways and are of different ‘types.’ They can be classified in various ways. Aristotle, for instance, described three degrees of friendship. First there are those people with whom you are acquainted and for whom you will do favors, and receive favors in kind. This is the friendship of utility. Second, there are those with whom you will enjoy doing things – taking walks and having dinner, going on vacations together, watching movies, attending sporting events, et cetera – but when there is no opportunity for mutual pleasure and enjoyment, you don’t tend to hang-out with them. Then there is the third degree of friendship, in which two or more[1] souls are bonded together; they become as one. Aristotle calls this “True Friendship” and it is the rarest of the three, though all are worth having. This is relevant to Villette as I believe this is what M Paul is proposing to Lucy Snowe.
The friendship between M Paul Emmanuel and Lucy Snowe is one which grows slowly and at times stubbornly, with occasional misunderstandings, recriminations and resistance from each side toward the other. It moves and matures toward the invitation to Lucy by M Paul to “True Friendship” in Chapter XXXV; one moment of which is cited in the epigraph above. It would be interesting to do a study of their friendship, from the beginning to the end. Here, however, I would like to explore their friendship at two poignant moments of their turning toward one another. First, in the opening scene of Chapter XV “The Long Vacation,” and second, in Chapter XXXI, “The Dryad.” In both of these chapters their journey into friendship deepens through open, honest conversation. In both scenes, they are standing in the Forbidden Alley; near the Tree in the Garden, thus adding conciliation and friendship to the themes connected with the Garden—Tree—Alley complex, revelation, recollection and inspiration being among those themes identified in the analyses of Chapters XII and XXVI in my previous two blogs.
The impetus for their unintended rendezvous in the Garden in Chapter XV is in consequence to Lucy being given permission by Madame Beck to administer the English examinations at end of the school year. It is implied that M Paul is the only teacher in the school usually giving these exams; he insists on giving them all, except English—as he has not mastered it. [Did Madame Beck give that exam in earlier years? Was there even an English exam, as Madame Beck is likewise not fluent in English?][2] Lucy being given this responsibility has raised a jealous ire in M Paul, in which state he is coming to rendezvous with her. I now think, having read this chapter a few times, that his coming to meet-up with her may have had deeper roots than this immediate issue_ a possibility we will explore later in this blog. He covets the exams, expressing a possessiveness towards them when he confronts Lucy about it. As will be revealed, giving the exams has to do with his public reputation. Lucy relates the context of her meeting-up with M Paul in the Garden, saying:
“On the evening preceding the examination-day, I was walking in the garden, as were the other teachers and all the boarders. M. Emanuel joined me in the “allée défendue;” [Forbidden Alley] his cigar was at his lips; his paletot [coat][3]—a most characteristic garment of no particular shape—hung dark and menacing; the tassel of his bonnet grec [Greek cap] sternly shadowed his left temple; his black whiskers curled like those of a wrathful cat; his blue eye had a cloud in its glitter.” (Chapter XV, “The Long Vacation,” ¶ 5)
The reader can distill from this description of M Paul something of the way in which Lucy has tended to perceive him; even up to this mid-stage of the story—as ‘menacing’ ala his coat and even ‘wrathful’ like a cat. She says elsewhere that he could fume like a bottled storm! As a cat he is about to pounce; blue eyes, black hair, whiskers and all. The “cloud” in the “glitter” of his blue eye might be a physical artifact of something like glaucoma, but is more surely a metaphor indicating M Paul’s intentions; he is approaching Lucy in an attitude of confrontation—going to spar with her about the English Exams.
He proceeds to criticize Lucy for intentions he perceives in her, incorrectly as it turns out, implying that she is reveling in this newfound situation of authority. He believes Lucy to be full of herself, perhaps too much? _and looking for public recognition and status. He is someone slighted; sensing that his honor and his reputation are being lessened or even threatened by having to share the podium with Lucy?
Lucy affirms for the reader that “On me school-triumphs shed but a cold lustre,” (¶ 7) urging that the effect of an audience on her differs from that it would have on M Paul. This would seem consistent with her reaction to her part in the play the day before at Madame Beck’s Fetê. Here we hear the ‘cold’ Lucy speaking, not the passionate Lucy that has been periodically revealing itself to us in the course of her story. She next tells us, however, that she likes “to see M Paul jealous,” as:
… it lit up his nature, and woke his spirit; it threw all sorts of queer lights and shadows over his dun face, and into his violet-azure eyes (he used to say that his black hair and blue eyes were “une de ses beautés” [“one of his beauties.”]. There was a relish in his anger; it was artless, earnest, quite unreasonable, but never hypocritical. (¶ 7)
It is interesting that we get such vivid descriptions of M Paul, here and throughout the novel, whereas of Lucy we are never told anything about her appearance; not even in the mirror scene with Ginevra. Paul’s “dun” face – its normal complexion is tan or reddish brown – has been recast in strange “lights and shadows,” owing to him being lit-up. Could these “queer lights and shadows” indicate his being flushed, or even blushing? Reddened in anger? His passionate nature comes through more visibly when he is jealous or angry. As such, I now see he is in some respect like Lucy herself; for she is her “cold” self, most of the time, occasionally letting her passions and feelings rise to the surface_ and overflow! He is passionate much of the time, and prone to exhibitions of passion—though he attempts to keep it from roiling over and, later in this dialogue, expresses a regret that he is so passionate. M Paul himself will later point out, in their exchanges in Chapter XXXI, ways in which he believes he and Lucy are “alike.”
As to the eyes, “violet-azure” might be a shade like indigo—and so the description of his eyes under the effect of jealous anger she sees shifted toward the violet end of the blue spectrum—darker and more intense than normal. This could point to an actual ‘darkening’ of his eyes; if not literal, then surely metaphorical. It is interesting how temperament and temper are revealed in M Paul’s physiogamy, not simply by way of his speaking or actions. Charlotte Brontë persistently uses the full human palette to display what she wants to be communicated in her novels.
Lucy describes M Paul’s “anger” in terms that attribute to it a certain integrity. While “unreasonable,” she says, it is “artless,” “earnest” and “never hypocritical.” It was without art; inferring that M Paul was not stylizing his angry responses, or making it seem like a performance. He was not like some pundit putting forth his views. He was also in “earnest” about whatever he was angry about; that is, he was direct and to the point—and as such there was no hypocrisy in it, nor any waffling around to get to the point. That is, he was sincere, and his intentions were clear. Whatever he is angry about, she could assume, is something of import to him. She did not know him to be hypocritical in what he argued with her about; there was always a clear reason or meaning behind it—and while he was somewhat unreasonable, according to Lucy’s perception, she seems to be able to deal with it with an open Mind and Heart.
Lucy
is thus able to treat his angry engagements with her in a trusting way. She is a ready partner in dialogue with him, even
when he is angry. His anger is not of
that violent kind which violates the one angered-at. Thus, she listens and responds to him, there
in the Alley.
Whereas Lucy is “cool” (most of the time), M Paul is characterized by fire; both in terms of temperament and – symbolically – by almost always having a cigar lit. The metaphor of fire is very apropos to M Paul; he is like a stoked fire – always blazing within – which sometimes flares up. It is interesting here, that his nature being lit-up is attributed by Lucy to jealousy because of her being given the English exams to administer. But there may be another theme running beneath his forthright projection of jealousy, as we will see, for, by the end of this confrontation, he is ready to offer her the hand of friendship.
Lucy responds to M Paul by cooly asking where the English Exams will fall in the programme, to which he draws out the pluses and minuses as to her place being at the beginning or the end. He apparently doesn’t want her interrupting his performance; as he is giving all the rest of the exams. He wants his stage time; and he does not want there to be breaks between exams. Lucy calls him “harsh” almost in jest, to which M Paul avers that he “knows” her. (¶ 10). Lucy’s retort is almost as much a stance as a questioning of his assertion: “You are satisfied that you understand me?” I experience this as a challenge to his assumption of knowing her as well as an invitation by her to delve into the assertion!
M Paul often thinks and asserts that he “knows” Lucy, but his assertion of this knowledge is almost always followed by something that broadens or deepens his knowledge of her. He clearly wants to know Lucy; as the conversation will evince—he has been interested in her from the night she first arrived, unexpected, at the school. His avowal of ‘knowing’ Lucy Snowe can be seen as a kind of threshold upon which he stands-forth in getting to know her better.
One of the tasks friends have in relation to one another is to get to know one another, to know the other as well as allowing oneself to be known by the other. While this process is ongoing and is never completely ‘accomplished’ – friends who have known each other for years, even decades, can sometimes discover something new about one another – it is central to the coming-together that true friends experience. This knowing and being-becoming known is also a process impacted by the fact that we change and grow over the years, sometimes becoming someone quite different than we once were. It is this process in which Lucy and M Paul are herein engaged, in this scene and throughout the novel.
Without directly responding to Lucy’s retort, M Paul deflects, referring to Lucy’s performance in the vaudeville during Madame Beck’s Fetê the day before; almost as if he now thinks she was looking for public applause and approval in that performance as well—M Paul nevertheless praising her ability to step into the part she played at the last minute. Lucy coldly denies that she took any pleasure in it! _Which seems to contradict her own description of her experience immediately after it was over, though she did very quickly revert to her “cold” version of herself and denied enjoying the experience of acting.[4]
We often learn who we are by reflection; both on what we have experienced in the external world in which live and in our own inner life. We see ourselves reflected in others – this is particular true of friends – and can learn something about who we are by how we are seen. Lucy, throughout her story, is shown ‘coming out’ from behind the cold-front of ‘Lucy Snowe’ and becoming a more passionate person; at least for brief – albeit significant – moments of time. But after these moments, she retreats back into being “cold” Lucy Snowe. In this scene we see how, upon reflection, she reclaimed her more usual affects and now denies having enjoyed the acting she did in the “vaudeville.” Reflection does not always aid in our own growth into self-knowledge. Self-revealing moments can be ignored, brushed off or simply forgotten. It may need acted-upon by some external influence to refine it. One question I still have about Lucy is whether or not she resolves this basic conflict in her being-in-becoming by the end of her story.
Frustrated with her response, M Paul takes another tack to try and ‘find Lucy out;’ to search out and reveal her motives—suggesting that it might be better for there to be no English exams at all, if Lucy is to be the examiner. To this possibility Lucy simply agrees, allowing that if Madame Beck approves that option, she would accept it willingly.
This confession appears to convince M Paul that she was not looking forward to giving the exam with any egotistic fervor for public recognition or status. Once more, M Paul sees she is not how he thought her! He now knows her a bit better than he did when he avowed that he ‘knew’ her! In a moment of self-effacing honesty, he then admits that he only knows “three phrases of English” (¶ 16), lauds her as the only teacher capable of giving the English exam and then_ launches into a détente with her, confessing that he would no doubt fail in giving the examination himself. He knows this to be true. This is the first step down into humility for him in relation with Lucy Snowe; opening the way for the proposal he is going to make her – of being friends.
It is interesting how many times the words “cold” and “know” are used in this interaction in the Alley. As I re-read this chapter recently, I began to think that while Lucy is remaining her “cold” self, M Paul is attempting to draw her out into his own fiery warmth; to light her up—just as he perceived her to be lit-up in the vaudeville the day before! This confrontation would seem to me to be aimed at getting to know her better. He thought he knew her, but in using this particular question of her motives in giving the English exams, finds out a bit more about her than he thought he knew. Her character is being slowly revealed to him; as is his to her.
Such tetê-a-tetê is often how friendship grows and deepens. The back-and-forth allows two (or perhaps more) individuals to find themselves better-in-relation with one another. If it doesn’t, it might indicate that they are not really suited to one another; at least as “true friends”— in Aristotle’s terms. One of the main characteristics of True Friendship is that neither loses their own individuality in their inter-relatedness with the other. They remain individuals; though their “souls” –in Aristotle’s terms – “become one.” True Friendship does not consist of one individual becoming lost or subsumed in the other. True friends are equals at the existential level. And for this to happen, there oft needs to be this back-and-forth between them, until genuine understanding emerges. _It can be – and often is – a quite long and drawn-out process, and it never really ends—as any friend in a long-term relationship might know and avow.
M Paul’s gruff repulses to her subside in the wake of this confession of his inability to give the English exams. And then, revealing an intention that I believe was running beneath his anger and jealous spite all along, he invites her to be his friend. Of this moment Lucy tells us that “He smoked his cigar in silence” and then that “turned suddenly.” (¶20) and said:
“Donnez-moi la main, [Give me your hand] said he, and the spite and jealousy melted out of his face, and a generous kindliness shone there instead. Come, we will not be rivals, we will be friends,” he pursued. (¶ 21)
This invitation surprised me when I first read it. It seemed too sudden and yet I can now see it as very much a culmination of their slowly yet persistently ‘getting to know one another’ since she had come to the pensionnat. His obstinate stance toward her melted “out of his face” replaced by a “generous kindness.” His physiology was now transfigured into something more amenable! Talk about body-language! That he “pursued” her with this invitation to be friends implies his passionate intent to be a friend with her. You, my reader, I would hope have known that feeling of wanting to get to know someone; to become friends – wanting to propose it; i.e., to invite the other into friendship – and the various pathways there are into and through that moment—whether or not they succeed you together with an Other? This being such a moment, without waiting for an answer; indeed – giving her time to consider the offer—M Paul now launches into a full apology regarding the exams:
“The examination shall take place, and I will choose a good moment; and instead of vexing and hindering, as I felt half-inclined ten minutes ago—for I have my malevolent moods: I always had from childhood—I will aid you sincerely. After all, you are solitary and a stranger, and have your way to make and your bread to earn; it may be well that you should become known. We will be friends: do you agree?” (¶ 22)
The admission of his “malevolent moods” is indicative of a refreshing openness, as M Paul allows himself to be more honestly ‘seen’ by Lucy; an offering toward being understood? That he has had these “moods” since childhood adds temporal depth to the admission as well as insight into his character. He is a passionate man, and his passions can change in a moment, if sufficiently acted upon, by either internal or external stimuli. This is borne out in a number of scenes in the novel, leading up to this moment as well as in other scenes afterward.
It is interesting how he now sees her; now that she is not ‘in competition’ with him for what he desires, which is public recognition, status and respect—as he admits to her. True friends can be in competition with one another; though if their relationship is to remain true, it must not devolve into a diminishing of either one in favor of the other. At one time, one may ‘win’ at something, the other may ‘lose;’ but in true friendship this does not render their equality asunder. It is not a matter of one-upping your friend; rather, pursuing and embodying what you can achieve, without diminishing the other. If two – or more – have become “one” in true friendship, they will always be on par with one another; seeing eye-to-eye in their affirmation, each of the other and of their respective abilities, proclivities and interests.
M Paul does indeed “know” her, as he affirmed a little earlier in this conversation, though at that moment he had not yet seen through a particular bias toward her that had clouded his vision; perhaps symbolized in Lucy seeing his blue eyes as violet-azure. This kept the two of them from becoming equals; which is necessary to friendship. He needed to test his intuitions toward her and her motives for what she does. He now recognizes her more as she is in herself. When this happens between two – or more – people, mutually, then the seeds of true friendship may continue to be sown, less impeded by biases and lack of understanding. He was projecting his intentions and aspirations onto her. Now he does see her. Not completely, but something has been clarified—and he knows her somewhat more truly.
He has recognized her as “solitary” and “a stranger.” He sees that she is making her way in the world and must earn a living for it. Which leads me to think that beneath his ‘hurt pride’ and his projection of his own motives onto Lucy, that there is and has been a recognition of her place and state in the world, signifying perhaps a growing affection, seeming aware of her as a person; as a ‘someone’ – like himself – needing a livelihood. I do not see this as a sudden revelation of the moment; but an insight in the way he sees her and which had germinated at some point in the past, now coming to fruition in this assertion of her, in admission to her, being “solitary” and a “stranger.” It has been going on throughout the novel, though perhaps not explicitly stated for the reader. To this assessment of her and M Paul’s offer, Lucy replies poignantly:
“Out of my heart, Monsieur. I am glad of a friend. I like that better than a triumph.” (¶ 23)
Lucy does not want to ‘triumph’ over other people; she has her own ideas of where she might want to go in her life – e.g., set up a school of her own someday – but as to worldly progress and ascendancy in the eyes of the public she clearly cares little – if naught – for. She is not someone, as I read her story, who goes through life worrying endlessly about what other people think of her; though she is concerned about it at times, as anyone might be, in particular situations—for we are always social animals and as such in need of being in-relation with various others. Therefore, there in the Forbidden Alley near the Old Pear Tree in the Garden, she now admits herself glad to have a friend. M Paul’s response to her is ambivalent, if not simply curt: “Pauvrette! [“Poor soul”]” said he, and turned away and left the alley. (¶ 24)
With so many people out in the Garden, the Alley is a more private place for this confrontation and this final proposal to have taken place, once he was satisfied of her character and intentions in regard to the exams. He often seeks Lucy out in private places; he is not the kind of person to confront her in public. This may well indicate his desire to ‘come to terms’ with her and to get to know her better? Having resolved what he had ostensibly come to talk with her about, he proposed friendship with her—which intent may have been right below the surface of his overt reason for coming into the Forbidden Alley and seeking her out. He has seen through – or simply discarded – the projection he had foisted upon her; of someone who wants public recognition and respect for selfish reasons—and reckons her better than he had before coming to dialogue with her in the Alley. They are weaving their way toward the possibility of true friendship.
But he now calls her a “poor soul” _and walks away!
Was this merely ironic and dismissing, or could it be a compassionate appreciation of how he sees her? Does he think her ‘poor’ because she does not seek public recognition and reputation and all the rest_ as he does? Or because she is “glad of a friend?” _this phrase signifying that she does not have any others at this point in her life; but also “poor” in the sense of humble—in that she is willing to admit it? Or perhaps “poor” because she is a foreigner and therefore alone in a foreign land? Indeed, she has told us that she was unable to become friends with any of the other teachers, though she tried, and by now has realized that John Graham Bretton is not ‘for her’ nor she ‘for him.’ She is solitary; and she is a ‘stranger’ in that old sense of not being ‘at home’ in Villette even yet. Clearly, she believes she has no home! (Chapter XXXI ¶ 27). M Paul has hit the mark in these two characterizations of her! He knows her, at least in part; from a certain angle and with a growing depth of care and concern.
Themes connected to the Garden—Tree-Alley:
This scene between Lucy and M Paul takes place in the Forbidden Alley, and I think adds the themes of conciliation as well as friendship to the list of themes associated with the Garden—Tree—Alley complex. Conciliation occurs through honest and open dialogue between them; via direct, ‘strait’ and ‘narrow’ conversating. There seems to me to be no dissembling or quibbling in their exchanges. this kind of dialogue being the vehicle toward the cross†roads whereat he feels ready to offer her his friendship. In that moment he seems to come out from behind a ‘mask’ he has been wearing; presenting himself as someone ‘outraged’ – ‘jealous’ and ‘angry’ – at her having been offered the chance to give the English Exams.
The Alley is a place where M Paul and Lucy come together to work out their budding and unfolding relationship. Here in this scene they come to terms about a very specific, practical matter, and having done so, M Paul is moved to offer her the hand of friendship; to become her ally—to which Lucy seems willing to respond in kind.
In the next blog we will move to Chapter XXXI “The Dryad” wherein this détente toward true friendship will continue to be pursued in the Alley near the Old Pear Tree in the Garden, leading to a depth of concern, revelations about each of them; each to the other—their lives and behavior, fostering a growing trust and respect between M Paul Emmanual and Lucy Snowe.
Until then,
Finis
[1] I tend to quibble with Aristotle about this, as he said only two souls can come together in this bonding as one; whereas I think three, possibly four, friends might rise to this state of union. Assuming that to be possible, I do agree with Aristotle that more people being involved with one another leads inevitably to a lessening of intimacy between them, thus ‘watering down’ or ‘wakening’ the relationship – MW
[2] The text does not tell us if there had always or even in previous years had been an English exam. This moment, however, sets a precedent for M Paul later in this dialogue suggesting that perhaps there should just not be an English exam.
[3] All translations in [ ] are from Google translate or other online site. Unfortunately, I do not speak, nor can I read or translate, French. If you do, and know of a better translation of any of the French words in their context in this novel, please enlighten me. – MW
[4] This raises a whole question of whether Lucy is ‘acting’ a part throughout the novel, and whether she does or does not realize it. The acting referred to here was something in which Lucy was drawn-out-of her cold shell; she improvised and played off Ginevra’s character to alter the implications and consequences of the play. The next day she disavowed acting, indicating she would never do it again. Is that because she is always an actress? _This is an unresolved question for me. – MW
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