The Captive

pg. 396-400

About halfway through The Captive our narrator, leaving Albertine at home where he is secure she will stay for the evening, sneaks off to attend the Salon of Mme Verdurin. Here he runs into a regular in the little clan, Brichot, and many other familiar faces. Upon arriving at the salon we find that M. de Charlus has essentially hijacked the evening by inviting a number of his friends who treat Mme Verdurin with great disrespect, and attempting to make Morel (his current obsession) the center of attention. This leads to what will eventually be Charlus downfall in the little clan.

As the evening is drawing to a close Mme Verdurin schemes to drive a wedge between Charlus and Morel, and in order to do so sends Brichot off with Charlus. This sets the scene for an interesting discussion of homsexuality between the two men, to which our narrator disgruntledly bears witness (his thoughts by this point in the evening straying back home to the sleeping Albertine).

The conversation opens with the discussion of Mlle Vinteuil and her friend, whom Charlus describes as “terribly disreputable persons” and “quite notorious”, which is interesting as he about to launch into a great defense of the normalcy of homosexuality (394). This is the first strong example in this section of Charlus habit of switching between his social mask of the virile man and his true identity of the homosexual, or ‘invert’. Brichot jumps in quickly with a defense of the women, declaring that “There is one thing which the Baron seems to me not to have taken into account when he speaks of the reputation of these two ladies, namely that a person’s reputation may be at the same time appalling and undeserved.”(395) This provokes an immediate reaction from Charlus, which serves also as a revelation of his true form:

From the moment that Brichot had begun to speak of masculine reputations, M. de Charlus had betrayed all over his features that special sort of impatience which one sees on the face of a medical or military expert when society people who know nothing about the subject begin to talk nonsense about points of therapeutics or strategy. (395)

He then responds to Brichot opening with “you don’t know the first thing about these matters”, launching us into this conversation and establishing himself as expert on the subject, a position which he maintains for the remainder of the interaction (395).

Charlus goes on to refute Brichots claims regarding the prevalence of false reputation, claiming instead that men are prone to deny later in life their actions, stating they cannot see the beauty in men when in fact they once were actively homosexual, and declares that he (the expert) has only ever heard of two verified unjust reputations. This explanation is slightly revealing of his own habits, those of denying his attractions to men when it is convenient for him to appear as a high class member of society and hiding his mannerisms in order to maintain his own reputation.

Much of this section is concerned with Charlus trying to convince Brichot of the extreme prevalence of homosexuality, in part by exposing men whom Brichot had not previously suspected. The first of these disclosures is Charlus declaring that Saint-Loup is an ‘invert’. He explains this by saying that Saint-Loups friend the actress, Rachel, serves only as a cover and is herself part of a group of lesbians. I think he does this in part to draw the attention of the narrator, whom having had a close friendship with Saint-Loup and having shown a strong dislike if not a disgust for homosexual relations (both in his speech and in his avoidance of Charlus’ advances) is surely quite disturbed by the news. Charlus then builds to his big reveal, that “the average rate of sanctity, if you see any sanctity in that sort of thing, is somewhere between three and four out of ten.” (397) Sanctity in this context of course refers to hetersexuality, so in this statement Charlus achieves two things: first, to astonish the men with the idea that only three of ten men have refrained from homosexual activity, and two to question if hetersexuality is the more pure type of sexuality.

The narrator is “appalled at [Charlus’] statistic” when he considers the implications for the rates of lesbianism, and although he attempts to write it off as wishful thinking on the part of Charlus, it leads him back to worried thoughts about Albertine (397). Brichot on the other hand is shocked, declaring that if Charlus is right he must be “one of those rare visionaries who discern a truth which nobody round them has ever suspected”(398) and argues essentially that even if he is right, it can never be proven so he is making a fool of himself by proclaiming it to be true:

Posterity judges only on documentary evidence, and will insist on being shown your files. But as no document would be forthcoming to authenticate this sort of collective phenomenon which the initiated are only too concerned to leave in obscurity… you would be regarded as nothing more than a slanderer or a lunatic. (399)

To the reader this number may seem unrealistically high, at least as it’s reflected in general society, but upon further consideration it is quite possible that this ratio exists in the society created by Proust within In Search of Lost Time. A very large percentage of the characters to whom we are exposed possess some connection to, if not an outright participation in, homosexual activity, and Charlus will continue to expose more throughout this scene.

In the next moment Charlus mentions Swann, which gets the attention of Brichot and we can assume also our narrator, although he has not spoken, as he has a long standing obsession with both Swann and Odette (Mme. Swann). Brichot inquires as to how Charlus knows Swann, and whether Swann was “that way inclined”(399). To this Charlus takes (faux?) offense, accusing Brichot of thinking he only knows homosexuals. We are then privy to Charlus’ thought process as he decides whether to expose Swann. As he has already essentially lowered his mask in his outright declaration of the prevailing commonality of homosexuality, he decides that to reveal a small bit of the truth would be “harmless to him who was its object and flattering to him who let it out in an insinuation.” (399) He then launches into the half answer to Brichots question:

“I don’t deny that long ago in our school days, once in a while,” said the Baron, as though in spite of himself and thinking aloud; then pulling himself up: “But that was centuries ago. How do you expect me to remember? You’re embarrassing me,” he concluded with a laugh… “In those days he had a peaches and cream complexion, and… he was as pretty as a cherub.” (399-400)

In this passage Charlus has clearly outed both himself and Swann as having participated in homosexuality (although he had already made his “inversion’ pretty clear throughout the scene). The description of Charlus is interesting, especially considering that he is referring to a younger self, since he seems to be adopting the mannerisms of a school boy upon his reminiscing by the way he laughs and claims to be embarrassed by the discussion.

This leads to what I see as the conclusion of this particular section, though their conversation continues, as the subject of reputation comes full circle on the bottom of page 400. Charlus goes on to tell Brichot that he was in fact the one that introduced Swann to Odette, and to claim that it was only due to the merit of his good reputation that he was able to assist her:

That, my boy, is what comes of a good reputation, you see. Though I only half deserved it. [Odette] used to force me to get up the most dreadful of orgies for her, with five or six men. (400)

In this way Charlus displays to Brichot the usefulness of his mask, and the reason that in his mind the high statistic could be entirely plausible. By maintaining the illusion of heteronormativity, of virility, he and others like him are allowed the mobility, power, and social class that they require.