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Madame de La FayetteA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
After the King’s death, the Guise family is elevated in estimation while others have fallen. “In brief, the whole complexion of the court changed,” Lafayette writes (139). M. de Clèves is passed over for the honor of accompanying Elisabeth to Spain, but he can only think of his wife and removing her from court—and from temptation. This new configuration of the court travels en masse to Reims for the coronation, but Mme de Clèves feigns illness so she can avoid the traveling court and Nemours.
Nemours, upset to learn that the princess won’t come, heads directly to the Clèves’s house, passing a couple departing courtiers in the courtyard. The princess dispatches an attendant to send him away definitively, and he leaves dejected. Nevertheless, M. de Clèves hears of the visit and assumes the worst. He rushes to his wife and confronts her. She soon realizes she can do nothing right in her husband’s eyes; though she convinces her husband that she sent Nemours away with prejudice, this only proves to M. de Clèves that Nemours is being treated with special distinction compared to the courtiers who had visited earlier. “…why make such a distinction for M. de Nemours? Why is he different from all the rest?” asks the stricken husband (143). They part on bad terms.
Mme de Clèves goes to their country home, Coulommiers, to be alone. She sends for a large painting of the court featuring, among other facets, a lifelike image of M. de Nemours.
Nemours, traveling with the rest of the court, soon hears that Mme de Clèves is alone in Coulommiers and leaves for his nearby sister’s house at once. M. de Clèves sends his attendant to spy on Nemours. Nemours hides in the garden at Coulommiers and spies on the princess. She spies him very briefly, too, though she plays it off as a trick of the light. The next day, when Nemours returns to the garden, he finds the all the doors shut and Mme de Clèves hidden. On the third day, Nemours involves his sister, who unwittingly invites herself over to Coulommiers. Mme de Clèves, surprised by M. de Nemours’s presence, engages with the sister and ignores the intruder. Nemours returns to Paris soon after.
M. de Clèves hears all of this from his attendant-spy and rashly concludes that his wife has committed adultery. His grief is extreme: “The same night, he was taken with a fever, with such awful consequences that, from the start, his illness appeared very grave” (154). Mme de Clèves quickly returns to the city to attend her husband and finds him close to death. From his deathbed, he censures her for having an affair and for being candid, which he now views as a sort of cruelty. She does everything she can to assuage her dying husband to little effect, saying, “I beg you to give me also the consolation of thinking that you will cherish my memory and that, had it been within your power to do so, you would have felt for me what you felt for another” (157). Soon after, he falls silent and dies.
In the following months, the widowed princess experiences many doubts and retires in mourning. She discovers that M. de Nemours has taken a room across from her window under an assumed name. The Vidame de Chartres arranges a meeting between M. de Nemours and the widow, and they speak more openly than ever of their feelings for one another. He believes she made a mistake in confessing her feelings to her dead husband. She asserts her duty to her dead husband’s memory and concludes that M. de Nemours is far too eligible and untrustworthy: “You have already had many affairs and you will have many more; I should cease to bring you happiness; I should see you become for another what you had been for me” (168-69).
They leave things inconclusively. The years pass, and Mme de Clèves retires to a convent for a part of every year. She lives a “somewhat brief” life, always apart from M. de Nemours (176).
The predicted result of straying from courtly appearance occurs by the book’s end: early death, estrangement, and agony. “Why did you not leave me in that untroubled blindness so many husbands enjoy?” asks M. de Clèves asks before succumbing to death (155). It’s a question M. de Nemours and the Dauphine also pose at different times. The author’s sympathies seem clear, and the lessons of her book instructive: It would have been far better for Mme de Clèves to have kept the matter to herself. Though Lafayette credibly lays out her protagonist’s struggle to resist telling the truth, even those most directly affected by it believe she should have left well enough alone.
The princess is not the only member of this lover’s triangle to come out with a muddled conscience. M. de Nemours behaves as badly as ever in Book 4, relentlessly breaking the boundaries of consent and etiquette by peering through the windows at Coulommiers and manipulating his sister to set up unwanted meetings. He even adopts an assumed identity to take a room across from the grieving princess, the better to spy on her.
Mme de Clèves is refreshingly candid with M. de Nemours during their final conversation, one in which they are free to reveal their thoughts to one another. Importantly, Mme de Clèves can finally express her dissatisfaction with the arrangement and lays out cogent reasons for rejecting M. de Nemours despite their relative freedom. First, M. de Nemours has proven his inconstancy in love. “You may well regret having obtained what I shall surely regret having granted,” Mme de Clèves says (164). Here she evokes two different types of regret: the masculine regret of a man who will become bored with what he has attained, and the feminine regret of being the object of such attainment. Their relationship, she suggests, would be unequal.
Second, Mme de Clèves points out that M. de Nemours might be too handsome and eligible—in short, too lovable—to be loved. She emphasizes another strong theme in The Princesse de Clèves, that love and agony are entwined within the human heart, and that which is most desirable is most damaging. This is represented not only by the central relationship triangle but also by the secondary stories featuring the King, the Queen, and the Duchess, and Mme de Tournon and her lovers.