29 janv. 2014


Gothique, réforme et Panoptique


Plan

Introduction
1. Cartographie et téléologie
2. La rhétorique gothique de Bentham
3. Une dimension critique ?
Conclusion


Introduction
1  Voir pour le premier aspect, Brunon-Ernst, « Les Métamorphoses du Panoptique », Cahiers critiques (...)
1Jamais construit, jamais occupé, le Panoptique de Bentham demeure une architecture virtuelle qu’il est possible d’interpréter, de rêver ou de « cauchemarder » avec peut-être plus de liberté que si elle s’était incarnée dans la pierre. Si d’un côté, des recherches récentes ont permis de préciser l’évolution historique de ce projet dans la pensée de Bentham, dans d’autres domaines, le Panoptique est un paradigme utilisé pour lire la littérature anglo-saxonne de la fin du XVIIIe siècle dans son contexte discursif.1 Cette seconde approche porte la marque de Surveiller et punir, ouvrage de Michel Foucault dans lequel celui-ci interprète le Panoptique comme l’archétype des disciplines modernes. Le spécialiste de Bentham peut s’en amuser ou s’en irriter : toujours est-il que les analyses de Foucault ont assuré une postérité herméneutique au Panoptique, notamment pour lire la littérature gothique.

2  Watt, Contesting the Gothic, p. 1, p. 6.
3  Miles, « The 1790s: The Effulgence of Gothic », pp. 41-42.
4  Longuel, « The word ‘Gothic’», pp. 453-454. « Barbare » renvoie ici,d’un point de vue historique, (...)
2Le gothique en littérature est une création de la critique du XXe siècle, un mouvement identifié rétrospectivement : au XVIIIe siècle, le courant que l’on qualifie à présent de « gothique » n’était ni conscient ni unitaire.2 Parmi les nombreuses approches qui existent, le genre peut être envisagé comme un phénomène historique, émergeant avec le Castle of Otranto (1764) de Horace Walpole et disparaissant dans les années 1820 après un pic de production dans les années 1800.3Gothic était au XVIIIe siècle un terme idéologiquement surdéterminé, synonyme de barbare, médiéval et surnaturel.4 Le caractère gothique de certains romans tient avant tout à leur cadre : des édifices médiévaux généralement déjà en ruines. Cependant, les romans gothiques sont surtout gothiques parce qu’ils reprennent les préjugés de l’époque concernant le Moyen Age, censé être caractérisé par le despotisme et la superstition. Les intrigues reposent souvent sur la confrontation d’un personnage anachronique, au sens où il incarne les valeurs du XVIIIe siècle éclairé, avec ces forces du passé.

3Dans un entretien intitulé « L’œil du pouvoir », Foucault met en rapport Bentham et Ann Radcliffe (1764-1823), considérée comme l’une des fondatrices du genre, quand il affirme que les paysages des romans de celle-ci sont la « contre-figure » de la transparence que des projets comme le Panoptique ont tenté d’établir à la fin du XVIIIe siècle :

5  Foucault, « L’œil du pouvoir », p. 18.
Les romans de la terreur, à l’époque de la Révolution, développent tout un fantastique de la muraille, de l’ombre, de la cache et du cachot, qui abritent, dans une complicité qui est significative, les brigands et les aristocrates, les moines et les traîtres : les paysages d’Ann Radcliffe, ce sont des montagnes, des forêts, des cavernes, des châteaux en ruine, des couvents dont le silence et l’obscurité font peur. Or, ces espaces imaginaires sont comme la ‘contre-figure’ des transparences et des visibilités qu’on essaie d’établir.5

4En dehors de ce rapprochement effectué par Foucault, existe-t-il des points de contact entre le philosophe et les auteurs gothiques? Comment penser, de façon plus générale, les rapports entre littérature gothique et l’entreprise de réforme, en particulier pénale et carcérale, dans l’Angleterre de la fin du XVIIIe siècle ?

1. Cartographie et téléologie
5Bentham ne renvoie pas explicitement à la littérature gothique et il ne semble pas que le Panoptique ait inspiré directement de romans gothiques contemporains de son élaboration, dans les années 1790. Pour théoriser le rapport entre Panoptique et roman gothique du XVIIIe siècle, il faut revenir à la notion de « contre-figure » et au passage de « L’œil du pouvoir » précédemment cité. Foucault s’y intéresse à ce qu’il appelle des « espaces imaginaires ». Il évoque « un fantastique de la muraille, de l’ombre, de la cache et du cachot, qui abritent, dans une complicité qui est significative, les brigands et les aristocrates, les moines et les traîtres » ou encore, dans les romans de Radcliffe, « des montagnes, des forêts, des cavernes, des châteaux en ruine, des couvents dont le silence et l’obscurité font peur. » Foucault nous invite manifestement à nous intéresser à des questions d’espace.

6Une première interprétation possible de ce passage consiste à dire que les romans gothiques sont dans un rapport de complicité avec l’entreprise d’instauration de la transparence qui domine la fin du XVIIIe siècle. On pourrait alors dire que les romans gothiques ont été écrits à une époque de transition, une époque où le règne de la transparence est en train d’être établi mais doit encore advenir. Les espaces sombres des romans gothiques figureraient les zones d’ombre à éradiquer à l’étranger. L’espace moderne est alors un espace transparent, éclairé d’une lumière constante et uniforme, un espace régulier, qui ne présente pas d’obstacle au regard et dans lequel le pouvoir s’exerce de manière homogène. Par contraste, l’espace gothique est par endroits opaque et présente des obstacles qui empêchent le regard de le quadriller. Le pouvoir s’y exerce de manière irrégulière, parfois excessive. Cette cartographie est indissociable d’une téléologie : la conception de l’espace va de pair avec une conception du temps ou de l’histoire, qui a les Lumières pour horizon.

6  Botting, « In Gothic Darkly », p. 3.
7A la fin du XVIIIe siècle, deux types de cartographie de l’abus politique coexistaient. Dans la littérature gothique, France, Espagne, Italie et parfois Portugal étaient interchangeables et fonctionnaient de façon similaire dans les représentations anglaises. L’espace gothique abritait des tyrans capricieux qui exerçaient un pouvoir absolu sur les biens, les personnes et les vies à l’opposé du rule of law censé régner en Angleterre après la Glorieuse Révolution. La torture y était pratiquée et le sort des sujet y était incertain. Préjugé politique et préjugé religieux allaient de pair : les romans gothiques se situent en grande majorité dans des pays catholiques, marqués par la superstition et l’hypocrisie. Le château féodal et le couvent sont des cadres privilégiés dans les romans gothiques, ce qui témoigne de l’association entre préjugé politique et religieux et d’une vision particulièrement négative du Moyen Age. La fonction idéologique du roman gothique était de présenter, par un jeu de contrastes, le XVIIIe siècle comme une époque libérée et éclairée. Le gothique servait de « miroir » aux mœurs et valeurs du XVIIIe siècle anglais.6 Le terme Gothic renvoyait en effet à un amalgame de coutumes religieuses, politiques et morales rejetées comme non-anglaises, ce qui permettait de créer une identité nationale. L’idéologie qui sous-tend le roman gothique apparaît comme un discours auto-satisfait des Anglais, qui au XVIIIe siècle, s’estimaient libérés du despotisme par la Glorieuse Révolution, de la superstition catholique par la Réforme et de la cruauté par la sensibilité.

8En revanche, les réformateurs identifiaient des aires « gothiques » dans le système carcéral anglais, à cette même époque censée être éclairée : les prisonniers étaient selon eux soumis au pouvoir despotique et arbitraire du geôlier, dans des espaces insalubres échappant à tout regard, notamment médical. Le traitement subi, par exemple la faim, était dénoncé comme une forme de torture, de même que l’incertitude dans laquelle se trouvaient de nombreux prisonniers quant à leur sort. Le projet de réforme consistait à identifier et éradiquer ces zones de non-droit. La même téléologie sous-tend la vision de l’histoire présente dans les romans gothiques et le discours réformateur, avec cette différence que pour les réformateurs, la libération n’était pas achevée mais constituait un horizon à atteindre. Il est cependant possible de proposer une deuxième articulation entre roman gothique et réforme pénale, dans laquelle le roman gothique représente, en les mettant à distance temporelle et géographique, les zones d’ombre persistant dans la société anglaise. A ce titre, le roman gothique est complice de l’entreprise de rationalisation du domaine pénal et de l’espace carcéral qui caractérise la fin du XVIIIe siècle.

9Le philanthrope John Howard a effectué, dans les années 1770 et 1780, quatre tournées de visites dans les prisons anglaises pour faire paraître The State of the Prisons en 1777 et proposer des éditions révisées. La prison ne devait pas pour lui être un lieu de promiscuité et de souffrance, mais un lieu de réforme morale et religieuse, ce qui passait notamment par la discipline. Son but était de mettre en évidence ce qui, dans le système carcéral anglais, empêchait d’atteindre ces objectifs et d’étudier à l’étranger les institutions à imiter et celles à éviter. Il fallait pour cela rendre l’espace carcéral visible, l’ouvrir à l’inspection. Bentham n’a pas proposé d’état des lieux systématique des prisons anglaises, mais s’est joint au chœur des dénonciations de la cruauté et de l’inefficacité du système carcéral.

7  Bentham, Panopticon, Bowring IV, p. 65.
8  Ibid., italiques dans le texte original.
9  Foucault, Surveiller et punir, p. 236.
10Bentham décrit son temps comme une ère de libération et de progrès. Certaines méthodes punitives archaïques et cruelles tendent à disparaître : « These monastic institutions [flagellations, and other such ceremonies] have not been in fashion in our country for ages ».7 Cependant, d’autres sont toujours pratiquées. Pour Bentham comme pour Howard le processus de modernisation est en marche mais n’a pas abouti : il faut le mener à son terme. Il dénonce l’usage persistant des fers : « that inexhaustible fund of disproportionate, too often needless, and always unpopular severity, not to say torture—the use of irons. »8 Il insiste sur la nécessité de faire disparaître les chaînes, ce qui constituerait un gain d’humanité. Comme le souligne Foucault, le Panoptique est un dispositif léger qui permet une économie de moyens, de violence et de souffrance : « Bentham s’émerveillait que les institutions panoptiques puissent être si légères : plus de grilles, plus de chaînes, plus de serrures pesantes ; il suffit que les séparations soient nettes et les ouvertures bien disposées. »9

11Lorsque Bentham veut dénoncer une pratique, il l’assimile à la torture. Il s’oppose aux pratiques punitives qui, quand elles affectent la santé des prisonniers, peuvent en devenir l’équivalent :

10  Bentham, Panopticon, Postscript II, Bowring IV, p. 123.
Styled less than capital, [punishments operating in abridgement of life] are in fact capital, and much more; the result of them being not simple and speedy death, as in the instances where death is appointed under that name, but death accompanied and preceded by lingering torture.10

11  Ibid., p. 154.
12  Bentham, Principles of Penal Law, Bowring I, pp. 421-422.
12Selon lui, la faim, qu’elle soit utilisée comme punition ou soit le résultat de la négligence, est une forme de torture : « I should speak honestly, and call [hunger] torture—I should use it instead of a thumb-screw: it is applying the rack to the inside of a stomach, instead of the outside of a limb. »11 Bentham fait preuve de préoccupations humanitaires et hygiénistes récurrentes chez les réformateurs. Il dénonce les conditions de détention (faim, froid, humidité, bruit) et en particulier les conditions sanitaires (odeurs, maladies, vermine). Dans Principles of Penal Law, il propose une liste des maux qui accompagnent en général l’emprisonnement, liste qui inclut la mauvaise alimentation, le mauvais couchage, le manque de lumière et la promiscuité forcée avec les autres prisonniers.12

13  Ibid., p. 404. Voir Semple, Bentham’s Prison, pp. 26-27.
14  Bentham, Principles of Penal Law, p. 429 ; italiques dans le texte original.
15  Ibid., p. 422.
13Il insiste également sur le fait que les prisons ne remplissent pas leur fonction de réforme. Dans Rationale of Punishment, il pose douze principes afin d’identifier la peine la plus acceptable. Parmi ceux-ci, figure l’idée que la peine doit réformer le criminel et non l’encourager dans ses vices.13 Or Bentham, comme beaucoup, constate que les prisons échouent dans leur tâche de réforme morale : « Prisons [...] have commonly and very properly been styled schools of vice. »14 Il estime que le problème de la promiscuité forcée entre les prisonniers ne peut être résolu que par l’architecture : « [I]t is [...] an evil which cannot be obviated without a change in the system and construction of prisons. »15

16  Bentham, Panopticon, p. 41.
17  Bentham, Panopticon, Postscript I, pp. 108-109; c’est moi qui souligne.
14    La réforme des prisons passe par la rationalisation de l’espace carcéral, afin de l’ouvrir au regard de l’inspection. Dans le Panoptique, l’obscurité doit disparaître. Bentham imagine un système de lampes et de réflecteurs afin de faire pénétrer la lumière dans tous les recoins des cellules, de jour comme de nuit : « to extend to the night the security of the day ».16 Le Panoptique prive la nuit de son obscurité : « In a dark night, it might be said, the benefit of the inspection principle fails you. Yes, if there be no lamps sufficient to light the walls;—yes, if there be no watchman patrolling in the house. »17 La disparition de l’obscurité va de pair avec une maîtrise totale de l’espace :

18  Bentham, Panopticon, p. 86.
Cells, communications, outlets, approaches, there ought not any where to be a single foot square, on which man or boy shall plant himself—no not for a moment—under any assurance of not being observed. Leave but a single spot thus unguarded, that spot will be sure to be a lurking-place for the most reprobate of the prisoners, and the scene of all sorts of forbidden practices.18

19  Ibid., p. 46.
15Comme l’espace, le temps doit être maîtrisé. Le Panoptique permet la victoire de l’espace sur le temps. L’inspection peut être effectuée d’un seul coup d’œil : « [N]o sooner is the superintendent announced, than the whole scene opens instantaneously to his view. »19

20  Cette analyse a été présentée de façon plus complète dans l’article « A Gothic Dystopia at the Ant (...)
21  Radcliffe, The Italian, p. 206.
16Dans des lettres peu étudiées qui suivent les écrits sur le Panoptique dans l’édition de Bowring, Bentham établit un contraste entre le projet panoptique et le plan de déportation des prisonniers en Australie, qui s’appelait alors Nouvelle-Galles du Sud.20 Il propose un relevé topographique qui repose sur des catégories similaires à la cartographie des romans gothiques et de State of the Prisons. Bentham « gothicise » l’espace australien en lui attribuant des qualités qui étaient associées au terme « gothique » à l’époque. La Nouvelle-Galles du Sud était selon lui une terre d’arbitraire politique, soumise au caprice tyrannique du gouverneur, et où les droits des citoyens britanniques n’étaient pas respectés. De même que l’espace gothique, la Nouvelle-Galles du Sud est l’anti-rule of law. Bentham devait décrire, dans A Plea for the Constitution, la Nouvelle-Galles du Sud comme une terre où la loi n’a pas cours : « New South Wales [has] nothing in it that ever was a law, or so much as called a law ». De plus, comme le parlement anglais n’avait pas pris la peine de préciser les modalités de l’exercice de la justice, le gouverneur, d’après Bentham, avait toute liberté d’instaurer des tribunaux dont il était le seul membre, pour juger des délits définis par lui-même. On retrouve alors la situation mise en scène dans The Italian, de Radcliffe, lorsque le héros, Vivaldi, est jugé par l’Inquisition et s’exclame : « How! […] [I]s the tribunal at once the Prosecutor, Witness, and Judge! »21 La Nouvelle-Galles du Sud constitue donc, en termes politiques, un double inverse de ce que l’Angleterre était censée être et représente dans ce texte l’équivalent de l’Espagne ou de l’Italie dans les romans gothiques.

22  Bentham, Letters to Lord Pelham, 185 ; italiques dans le texte original.
17L’espace de la Nouvelle-Galles du Sud a ceci de gothique qu’il contient de nombreuses zones qui échappent au regard de l’inspection. A l’époque où Bentham écrit ses lettres à Lord Pelham, le territoire ne pouvait être contrôlé par les grilles du pouvoir. De même que dans les prisons surpeuplées décrites par Howard, les détenus constituaient une masse indéfinie et pouvaient échapper au pouvoir individuant de la surveillance. De façon générale, l’espace australien était obscur, irrégulier et pouvait abriter des conspirations. Les déportés étaient dispersés à travers un territoire mal maîtrisé et Bentham devait écrire : « Under the transportation system […] the state of the convict […] was and is […] thrown as it were purposely into the shade »,  ce qui s’oppose à la lumière ininterrompue du panoptique.22 La réforme des prisonniers ne pouvait être effectuée et Bentham présente la Nouvelle-Galles du Sud comme une terre de vice, ce qui rappelle le discours des réformateurs sur les prisons, souvent appelées « séminaires » ou « écoles du vice ». Bentham recommandait une maîtrise intensive de l’espace, impossible dans les vastes étendues de la Nouvelle-Galles du Sud.

18    De façon plus métaphorique, Bentham signale des zones d’ombre dans le droit pénal et dans le système politique anglais et utilise une rhétorique gothique à cet effet. « Rhétorique gothique » renvoie ici à un ensemble d’images et de scénarios présents à la fois dans la fiction gothique et le discours réformateur de la fin du XVIIIe siècle. Le gothique est alors considéré comme un terme historique, un terme idéologique et une source de métaphores.

2. La rhétorique gothique de Bentham
19D’autres textes du corpus benthamien peuvent être convoqués pour y chercher la présence éventuelle d’une rhétorique gothique, notamment la critique du common law dans A Fragment on Government et A Comment on the Commentaries. L’attitude courante envers le common law, incarnée par Blackstone, était de le vénérer comme le réceptacle de la sagesse accumulée à travers les âges et, en cas de difficultés, de chercher à l’amender plutôt que de l’éradiquer. Bentham s’érige contre le fonctionnement mystérieux de ce type de loi : la vénération dont elle est l’objet la rend opaque, en empêche l’examen et donc la réforme. La « rhétorique gothique » de Bentham apparaît dans ce passage :

23  Bentham, A Comment, Appendix F, Prefatory Materials, 320; c’est moi qui souligne. Burns et Hart si (...)
 [I]t is not for every man in matters of moral science to define his words. It is what a little understanding can not do: a timid heart dare not do it. Men who, fettered by engagements, have abjured the right of thinking and find it their interest to persist in their abjuration, start from a task like this with loathing and with terror. They dare not venture into the recesses of the science for fear of spying out deformities which to correct would be mortal to their hopes: helpless victims of a blind and antiquated policy, they dare not look their own notions in the face: they dare not strike out those hidden |     | where they would elicit hidden lights that would appal them with the prospect of the absurdities they have swallowed […]23

24  Cf Bentham, A Comment, p. 17, pp. 114-115, p. 123, p. 221 et Of Laws in General, note p. 3.
20Bentham affirme ici que le travail de définition requis pour améliorer le droit anglais est une entreprise qui peut être effrayante dans la mesure où elle va mettre en évidence les « difformités » et « absurdités » qui ont longtemps été acceptées. Le droit est présenté comme un espace irrégulier présentant des recoins (recesses) dans lesquels il faut porter la lumière. La tradition juridique est « aveugle », « vétuste » et « entrave » littéralement les sujets britanniques. Cette dénonciation du manque de définition dans le droit s’inscrit dans la critique du langage présente dans l’œuvre de Bentham. Ailleurs, il décrit à la fois le common law et le texte des Commentaries on the Laws of England de Blackstone comme des labyrinthes, éléments architecturaux récurrents dans les romans gothiques où les héroïnes se trouvent livrées au pouvoir arbitraire des villains.24

21Bentham « gothicise » également l’université d’Oxford, où Blackstone a présenté les Commentaries. Après avoir déploré le manque d’exactitude et le recours à des ornements rhétoriques, il écrit :

25  Bentham, A Comment, 12n ; italiques dans le texte original.
The flaccid fopperies of Poetry and Rhetoric might flourish in the dank atmosphere his Commentaries first drew. Those who dare not judge, may venture to imagine. But the firm beauties of precision love a purer air. They grow not in those torpid and pestilential regions, where the grim spectre of superstition sits centinel over the foundations of moral science. Vain are his hopes who thinks to learn to see clearly in that gloomy circle, in which the first vow he makes at entering is to shut his eyes.25

26  Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England, vol. 3, p. 268.
22Bentham utilise les adjectifs « dank » et « gloomy », souvent employés pour décrire les cachots souterrains et châteaux gothiques, afin de caractériser l’université anglaise. Celle-ci est également évoquée comme un domaine « torpide et pestilentiel », gouverné par la superstition. En reprenant ces éléments architecturaux, Bentham propose une variation sur le célèbre passage des Commentaries de Blackstone dans lequel ce dernier compare le droit anglais à un château gothique, que l’habitant moderne conserve et adapte à ses besoins.26 Pour Bentham, il ne fallait pas préserver le château gothique du droit anglais mais le raser pour mieux reconstruire.

27  « What is the source of this premature anxiety to establish fundamental laws? It is the old concei (...)
23Ce qui est structurellement gothique dans le common law, c’est que les décisions passées, les décisions des morts, pèsent sur les vivants, qui ne peuvent formuler de nouvelles lois selon le seul critère valable, à savoir l’utilité. Le poids des morts et de leurs actions passées sur les vivants est mis en scène de façon récurrente dans les romans gothiques. Dans la préface à The Castle of Otranto, Walpole reprend la citation biblique selon laquelle les péchés des pères sont expiés par leur descendants jusqu’à la troisième et quatrième générations. De nombreux romans gothiques reposent sur des usurpations et des assassinats dont les générations suivantes héritent sous la forme de spectres : c’est la trame de The Old English Baron, de Clara Reeve, par exemple. Bentham refuse ce qu’il appelle la « tyrannie des morts » dans le droit mais aussi en politique, ce qui apparaît en particulier dans ses écrits sur la Révolution française. Il s’oppose à l’inscription de principes immuables dans des documents constitutionnels, qu’il s’agisse de l’ancienne constitution anglaise ou de la Déclaration des droits de l’homme et de la constitution française. Bentham critique « la volonté récurrente de diriger la postérité, la bonne vieille recette qui permet aux morts d’enchaîner les vivants. »27

24Enfin, dans The Book of Fallacies, le gothique est, avec les références à l’antiquité et à l’Orient, l’une des armes que Bentham utilise pour dénoncer les arguments fallacieux des opposants à la réforme. Il oppose le recours à la raison et à l’expérience présente d’une part au recours au passé d’autre part, ce qu’il appelle le « culte voué aux os d’hommes morts ». Superstition et idolâtrie se trouvent de nouveau associées, lorsque Bentham dénonce les arguments que certains utilisent au nom de la prudence :

28  Bentham, Book of Fallacies, Bowring II, p. 480 ;c’est moi qui souligne.
To this class may be referred […] the hydrophobia of innovation, and argument of the ghost-seer, whose nervous system is kept in a state of constant agitation by the phantom of Jacobinism dancing before his eyes […]28

25Les références au fantôme et au spectre permettent de renvoyer à l’irrationnel et à l’infantile. Elles permettent aussi de souligner l’absence de fondement de ces craintes. Bentham définit son temps comme une époque où diables, fantômes, vampires et sorcières sont dispersés par la presse, signe de la marche du progrès. Il critique ce qu’il appelle l’argument « croque-mitaine » utilisés par les opposants à la réforme parlementaire :

The hobgoblin, the eventual appearance of which is denounced by this argument, is anarchy; which tremendous spectre has for its forerunner the monster innovation. The forms in which this monster may be denounced are as numerous and various as the sentences in which the word innovation can be placed.

    ‘Here it comes!’ exclaims the barbarous or unthinking servant in the hearing of the affrighted child, when, to rid herself of the burthen of attendance, such servant scruples not to employ an instrument of terror, the effects of which may continue during life. ‘Here it comes!’ is the cry; and the hobgoblin is rendered but the more terrific by the suppression of its name.

29  Ibid., p. 418 ; italiques dans le texte original.
    Of a similar nature, and productive of similar effects, is the political device here exposed to view.29

26Ici, Bentham rejette les histoires de fantôme comme le propre des domestiques et comme un instrument d’infantilisation. Le roman gothique ne se limite pas à des « histoires de fantôme ». Dans cette littérature, la superstition est mise à distance : elle est toujours l’apanage des domestiques, même si elle constitue une tentation dangereuse pour les protagonistes. C’est par son substrat idéologique et sa façon d’interroger la hantise que le gothique offre une confrontation fructueuse avec le texte benthamien.

30  Radcliffe, The Italian, p. 138.
31  Godwin, Enquiry into Political Justice, p. 125.
27Il n’est pas surprenant qu’une rhétorique gothique soit opérante quant il s’agit de contester la légitimité du pouvoir en place et de dénoncer le recours à l’irrationalité par lequel il se maintient. En effet, la littérature gothique entraîne ses lecteurs derrière la scène. Dans The Ghost-Seer (1789), de Schiller, est décrite une scène d’illusionnisme qui culmine avec l’apparition de faux spectres. Les mécanismes et astuces utilisés sont ensuite minutieusement expliqués. De façon similaire, dans The Italian (1797), Radcliffe emmène ses lecteurs dans les coulisses du pouvoir, religieux dans ce cas-ci. Lorsqu’Ellena et Vivaldi s’échappent du couvent de San Stefano, ils empruntent des voies souterraines dont certaines servent de coulisses pour mettre en scène de faux miracles : « used for the purpose of conveying secretly to the shrine, such articles  as were judged necessary to excite the superstitious wonders of the devotees. »30 Le pouvoir repose ici sur la manipulation de la superstition et s’entoure de mystère pour mieux assurer son emprise. William Godwin, dans Enquiry into Political Justice (1793), devait faire le même constat, s’opposant à une conception ésotérique du pouvoir qu’il glose en ces termes : « There is a mystery in the art of government, which uninitiated mortals must not presume to penetrate. »31 Paine présente quant à lui la monarchie comme une forme d’imposture et propose, par un geste récurrent dans la littérature gothique, de lever le voile sur sa réalité :

32  Paine, Rights of Man, p. 182.
 [W]hat is called monarchy, always appears to me a silly, contemptible thing. I compare it to something kept behind a curtain, about which there is a great deal of bustle and fuss, and a wonderful air of seeming solemnity; but when, by any accident, the curtain happens to be open, and the company see what it is, they burst into laughter.32

28La critique radicale, par son rationalisme, se rapproche de la technique du surnaturel expliqué pratiquée par Radcliffe : les événements apparemment surnaturels sont expliqués de façon rationnelle – bien que pas toujours satisfaisante. Bentham, qu’il s’attaque au système juridique ou au système politique, dénonce le voile de mystère dans lequel se drapent les puissants pour assurer leur emprise. Il souligne en particulier la façon dont le droit est instrumentalisé par les hommes de loi. Pour évoquer l’opacité dans laquelle les législateurs et les juges maintiennent le droit, il utilise l’image biblique qui devait fournir le titre d’un recueil de nouvelles de Sheridan Le Fanu (1872) :

33  Ibid., Appendice E, p. 327 ; c’est moi qui souligne. Le point d’interrogation a été ajouté par les (...)
The great and, to speak of it by what it ought to be, illustrious standard of right and wrong, say they [lawyers], is locked up from us: that on paying large fees we may have small scantlings of it or rather extracts, short [ ?] specimens produced to us, from them, to squint at as through a glass darkly. Accordingly we now see it, as through a glass darkly: we might, were it but your pleasure, see it face to face.33

34  Radcliffe, The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne, p. 54 et The Mysteries of Udolpho, pp. 380-381.
29La stratégie de dénonciation de l’instrumentalisation du droit apparaît dans les romans gothiques : par exemple, dans deux de ses œuvres (The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne et The Mysteries of Udolpho), Radcliffe met en scène un villain s’arrogeant le pouvoir d’interpréter le droit comme bon lui semble afin d’usurper les terres d’une femme qu’il séquestre.34 Cependant, dans les deux romans, les propriétaires légitimes font échouer les tentatives des villains par leur maîtrise du droit foncier. Dans The Mysteries of Udolpho, Emily rétorque à Montoni :

35  Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, pp. 380-381.
I am not so ignorant, Signor, of the laws on this subject, as to be misled by the assertion of any person. The law, in the present instance, gives me the estates in question, and my own hand shall never betray my right.35

30Dans l’économie du roman, le passage représente un tournant, à partir duquel Emily s’émancipe de l’emprise de Montoni. Or c’est précisément en proposant un droit clair et donc connaissable que Bentham entendait émanciper ceux qui étaient dominés par les hommes de loi, les prêtres et les politiciens.

36  Pour une analyse détaillée voir Wrobel, « Les cryptes du projet benthamien », L’Atelier.
31Jusqu’à présent, le roman gothique a été envisagé d’abord comme la figuration d’un passé dont le XVIIIe siècle anglais s’estimait libéré, puis comme la contrepartie, en fiction, de l’entreprise de rationalisation spatiale et sociale des réformateurs : les grottes, couvents et châteaux évoqués par Foucault sont l’équivalent des cachots anglais, mais aussi de l’irrationalité du common law ou de la doctrine des droits naturels, que Bentham cherche à combattre. C’est en ce sens que l’on peut entendre « contre-figure » dans la citation de Foucault : les romans gothiques seraient complices du projet rationaliste de Bentham. Cependant, dans Surveiller et punir, l’affixe « contre » renvoie à un rapport complexe d’opposition et de juxtaposition. Ce fonctionnement du préfixe « contre » ouvre la possibilité de lire autre chose dans « contre-figure » qu’un rapport de complicité.36 Le terme de « contre-figure » peut renvoyer à un double rapport, à la fois complice et critique.

32Les Gothic villains des romans gothiques sont souvent interprétés comme les représentants d’une époque féodale despotique et cruelle. Cependant, par bien des aspects, ils semblent incarner le pouvoir panoptique tel que Foucault le décrit dans Surveiller et Punir, notamment parce qu’ils fomentent des complots contre les protagonistes, tentent de quadriller et de maîtriser l’espace et contrôlent le discours social qui définit l’individu. Peut-on lire l’association d’un pouvoir de type panoptique à ces villains comme une critique implicite du Panoptique ?

3. Une dimension critique ?
37  Radcliffe, A Sicilian Romance, p. 63.
33Complots et conspirations abondent dans les romans gothiques. Protagonistes et personnages secondaires se sentent poursuivis et observés, parfois à raison, parfois à tort. Les conspirateurs se dissimulent, investissant l’espace d’une menace fantomatique, toujours possible mais pas toujours vérifiable. Par exemple, dans A Sicilian Romance, les jeunes gens qui souhaitent aider Julia, l’héroïne à qui le Marquis de Mazzini, son père, veut imposer un mariage, redoutent la surveillance du Marquis. La moindre lueur leur donne à penser qu’ils ont été observés : « [T]his circumstance [...] induced them to suspect that their visit to Julia had been observed. »37 La voix passive dissimule dans cet exemple l’instance surveillante.

38  Radcliffe, The Italian, p. 372.
34Si Radcliffe mobilise des conspirations « classiques », structurées de façon hiérarchique avec une tête identifiable, des agents et des instruments, elle met également en scène des effets de pouvoir impersonnels. Une forme de surveillance est perçue par les personnages, sans qu’il soit nécessairement possible d’identifier qui l’exerce. Les premiers chapitre de The Italian en fournissent une bonne illustration. Une personne non identifiée essaye de dissuader Vivaldi de se rendre à la villa Altieri, où réside Ellena, par des avertissements : « Your steps are watched; beware how you revisit Altieri ! »38 Cette voix se fait entendre à plusieurs reprises mais, malgré ses efforts, Vivaldi ne parvient pas à lui donner un visage. L’identité de cet « ange gardien » d’un genre particulier ne sera dévoilée qu’à la fin du roman. Cette surveillance anonyme peut être rapprochée de la surveillance panoptique.

39  Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, p. 289.
40  Le lecteur apprendra par la suite qu’il s’agissaitde Du Pont, fait prisonnier, mais qui avait réus (...)
35Les villains aspirent à l’exercice d’un pouvoir omniscient et omniprésent mais se trouvent parfois eux aussi pris dans les mailles d’un réseau de surveillance invisible et néanmoins perceptible. Ainsi, dans The Mysteries of Udolpho, le réseau est celui des galeries secrètes qui creusent les murs du château. Lorsque, soupçonné de s’être rendu maître des lieux par des moyens criminels, Montoni tente de se justifier, il est interrompu par une voix spectrale. Il s’agit en fait d’une personne dissimulée dans une galerie secrète, dont Montoni ignore l’existence. Ce dernier affirme : « We are overheard. »39 Bien que les environs soient fouillés, personne n’est trouvé et la voix n’est pas identifiée.40 La dissimulation et la surveillance ne sont pas le fait des villains uniquement mais se généralisent.

41  Radcliffe, The Romance of the Forest, p. 137.
42  Foucault, Surveiller et punir, p. 234.
36De plus, l’intériorisation de la surveillance est mise en scène. Par exemple, dans The Romance of the Forest, la conversation entre l’héroïne Adeline et le domestique Peter, qui cherche à la prévenir du complot qui la vise, est interrompue par des phrases comme « for Heaven’s sake speak lower: if we should be overheard, we are all blown up » ou encore « I’m so afraid we shall be seen ».41 Ces personnages aux aguets, conscients d’une surveillance toujours possible, confrontés à un pouvoir omniscient, omniprésent et invisible, occupent une place comparable à celle des prisonniers du Panoptique. La surveillance est ici toujours menaçante. La visibilité ne constitue alors pas une protection mais bel et bien un « piège ».42

37La rhétorique des Lumières, opposant de façon systématique lumière et obscurité, transparence et opacité, uniformité et irrégularité présente un aspect manichéen qui est bouleversé dans les romans gothiques, et ceux de Radcliffe en particulier. Dans les romans gothiques, les espaces obscurs ont un fonctionnement ambigu et semblent réversibles. Fred Botting a bien mis en évidence cette ambivalence :

43  Botting, « Power in the darkness », p. 249.
Linked to, even enclosed within, the principal Gothic sites like the castle and the ruin, labyrinths, underground passages, and secret vaults have a plural significance: they are sites of imprisonment and the licentious enactment of evil or prohibited desires and figures of fear, confusion, alienation, or mystery; they also become refuges or means of escape from pursuit as well as locations of hidden secrets and sudden discoveries.43

38Par exemple, dans le deuxième roman de Radcliffe, A Sicilian Romance, la lumière est ambiguë parce qu’elle révèle les poursuivants comme les victimes. Lorsque l’héroïne s’échappe du couvent de St Augustin, elle est à la fois aidée et trahie par la lune. Les espaces obscurs et accidentés, les obstacles peuvent être à la fois menace et protection.

44  Radcliffe, A Sicilian Romance, p. 172.
39Paradoxalement, il arrive que les personnages, déjà enfermés par leurs ennemis, s’enferment dans une autre pièce ou s’enfoncent volontairement dans les profondeurs d’une grotte ou d’un labyrinthe pour échapper à leurs poursuivants. Ainsi, dans A Sicilian Romance, c’est en s’enfonçant dans les souterrains que Julia se protège du Duc : « [P]ursuing the windings of the cavern, she flew into its inmost recesses ».44 Les montagnes qui ont occulté la séquestration de la Marquise de Mazzini peuvent aussi abriter la fuite :

45  Ibid., p. 181.
 [T]he cavern [Julia] had passed wound beneath the range of mountains on whose opposite side stood the castle of Mazzini. The hills thus rising formed a screen which must entirely conceal their emergence from the mouth of the cave, and their flight, from those in the castle.45

40Cependant, les personnages se rendent vite compte qu’ils ne peuvent s’échapper, et il ne reste plus qu’à utiliser la prison comme cachette, ainsi que le propose la mère de Julia :

46  Ibid., p. 183.
If […] you prefer imprisonment with your mother, to a marriage with the duke, you may still secret yourself in the passage we have just quitted, and partake of the provision which is brought me […]46

47  Le paradoxe du double enfermement est également mis en évidence dans The Romance of the Forest et (...)
41Il s’agit d’un double enfermement : pour échapper à une forme d’emprisonnement, les personnages choisissent de s’enfermer eux-mêmes. Ce double enfermement est paradoxal puisque les personnages choisissent la réclusion pour garder leur liberté.47 Il serait facile de multiplier les exemples de ce double enfermement paradoxal, qui souligne le fonctionnement ambigu des espaces obscurs. Ceux-ci ne sont plus alors uniquement synonymes d’abus mais aussi de liberté.

42Enfin, dans A Sicilian Romance, Radcliffe montre que la transparence peut être feinte pour duper l’opinion. Afin de dissiper les rumeurs affirmant que l’aile sud de son château est hantée, le Marquis de Mazzini emmène les domestiques explorer cette aile. Bien qu’il affirme présenter tout l’espace à leurs yeux, il ne leur montre que ce qu’il veut et surtout pas la grotte dans laquelle il séquestre sa première femme. L’obscurité, la profondeur, la présence d’obstacles ne contribuent pas forcément à dissimuler les abus de personnages tyranniques. De même, la transparence n’est pas nécessairement une garantie de justice, de protection et de vérité : elle peut être simulée afin de duper d’autres personnages et ainsi devenir opacité. Radcliffe semble suggérer que même l’ouverture de l’espace gothique au public n’est pas une garantie.

43Les romans gothiques ne présentent pas une critique directe du Panoptique. Cependant, le traitement ambigu des espaces obscurs, de la surveillance et de la transparence peut être lu comme une exploration ambivalente d’un univers hanté par la possibilité du « devenir Panoptique » du monde. Les romans gothiques se sont développés après une première vague de réforme carcérale. Ils ne prétendent pas faire un état des lieux des prisons à réformer en Angleterre. Les prisons de ces romans ne tiennent pas leur aspect terrifiant de la promiscuité ou la contagion qui pourraient y régner, mais de la suggestion d’un contrôle toujours possible. Les personnages traversent des espaces investis d’une surveillance impersonnelle, ce qui anticipe la possible généralisation du principe panoptique à l’ensemble de la société, c’est-à-dire l’émergence de la société disciplinaire selon Foucault. Les romans gothiques constituent une mise en fiction du Panoptique tel qu’il a été interprété par un pan de la critique. Ils mettent en fiction la science sociale de Bentham pour mettre à l’épreuve un possible en cours.

Conclusion
44Ce bref parcours a permis d’identifier des points de contact entre littérature gothique et projet benthamien, au niveau thématique, rhétorique et idéologique. Faire entrer ces œuvres en dialogue nécessite d’adopter une perspective large : « gothique » ne renvoie pas qu’à un genre littéraire mais peut alors être entendu comme un terme historique, un terme idéologique et une source de métaphores. De plus, cette démarche engage à lire d’autres textes que ceux qui traitent uniquement du Panoptique : ceux qui concernent Blackstone et le common law ou encore la réforme parlementaire. L’hypothèse, dégagée rapidement ici et qu’il faudra vérifier de façon plus systématique, est celle de l’existence d’une rhétorique gothique dans l’ensemble des textes polémiques de Bentham.

45L’étude des deux corpus montre qu’il est possible de proposer une interprétation dialectique de l’extrait de « L’œil du pouvoir » cité en introduction. Les romans gothiques entretiennent un rapport duel au discours autosatisfait des Lumières et au discours réformateur, founissant scénarios et armes rhétoriques aux deux. Le gothique s’inscrit dans un moment de transition, permettant de souligner les horreurs du système carcéral et interrogeant le désir de transparence qui anime le projet réformateur et le Panoptique en particulier. Les romans gothiques peuvent être interprétés comme une réaction à la possibilité panoptique, explorée dans sa version sombre par la fiction à défaut d’avoir été concrétisée.

46Il n’existe pas de parallélisme clair entre les deux discours : le gothique fournit plutôt des perspectives dépravées sur le projet de science sociale. Il y aurait alors un gothique performatif qui déprogramme les textes programmatiques de Bentham. Un exemple tiré de la littérature gothique contemporaine semble le confirmer : dans Nights at the Circus, Angela Carter met en scène un pénitencier explicitement qualifié de « panoptique », destiné à réformer des criminelles, dont celles-ci parviennent à s’évader. Dans cet édifice, les consciences ne sont pas éveillées à la culpabilité, les esprits ne sont pas réformés, le système de contrôle des communications est contourné et - dernière ironie - la scène finale montre l’inspectrice enfermée dans la tour centrale alors que les prisonnières s’échappent dans l’immensité de la Sibérie.

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Bibliographie

Sources primaires
1. Œuvres gothiques
CARTER, Angela, Nights at the Circus, Londres: Chatto and Windus, 1984.

RADCLIFFE, Ann, The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne [1789] (A. Milbank, éd.), Oxford: Oxford UP, 1995.

RADCLIFFE, Ann, A Sicilian Romance [1790] (A. Milbank, éd.), Oxford: Oxford UP, 1993.

RADCLIFFE, Ann, The Romance of the Forest [1791] (C. Chard, éd.), Oxford: Oxford UP, 1986.

RADCLIFFE, Ann, The Mysteries of Udolpho [1794] (B. Dobrée, éd.) Oxford: Oxford UP, 1998.

RADCLIFFE, Ann, The Italian [1797] (E.J. Clery, éd.), Oxford: Oxford UP, 1998.

REEVE, Clara, The Old English Baron [1778] (J. Trainer, éd.), Oxford: Oxford UP, 2003.

WALPOLE, Horace, The Castle of Otranto [1764], (W.S. Lewis, éd.), Oxford: Oxford UP, 1996.

2. Œuvres de Bentham
The Works of Jeremy Bentham (J. Bowring, éd.), Edimbourg: William Tait, 1843.

Of Laws in General (H.L.A. Hart, éd.), Londres: Athlone Press, 1970.

A Comment on the Commentaries and A Fragment on Government (J.H. Burns et H.L.A. Hart, éds.), Londres: Athlone Press, 1977.

Rights, Representation, and Reform: Nonsense upon Stilts and other Writings on the French Revolution (P. Schofield, C. Pease-Warkins et C. Blamires, éds.), Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002.

3. Autres
BLACKSTONE, William, Commentaries on the Laws of England,[1765-1769], Chicago: Chicago UP, 2002.

GODWIN, William, Enquiry into Political Justice [1793], (K. Codell Carter, éd.) Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971.

HOWARD, John, The Works of John Howard, 2 vols., vol. 1: The State of the Prisons in England and Wales, 4ème édition, Londres: J. Johnson, C. Dilly and T. Cadell, 1791-1792.

PAINE, Thomas, Rights of Man [1790], Londres: Penguin, 1985.

Sources secondaires
1. Sur le gothique
BOTTING, Fred, « Power in the Darkness: Heteroropias, Literarure and Gothic Labyrinths », Genre, 1993, n° 26, pp. 253-282 ; reproduit in F. Botting et D. Townshend (éds.),  Gothic-Critical Concepts in Literary and Cultural Studies 4 vols, Londres: Routledge, 2004, I, pp.243-268.

BOTTING, Fred, « In Gothic Darkly: Heterotopia, History, Culture » in D. Punter (éd.) A Companion to the Gothic, Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000, pp.3-14.

LONGUEL, Alfred E., « The word ‘Gothic’ in Eighteenth-Century Criticism », Modern Language Notes, 1923, n°38, pp.459-460.

MILES, Robert, « The 1790s: the Effulgence of Gothic » in The Cambridge companion to Gothic Fiction, J.E. Hogle (éd.), 2002, pp.41-60.

TOWNSHEND, Dale, The Orders of Gothic: Foucault, Lacan and the Subject of Gothic Writing, 1764-1820, New York: AMS Press, 2006.

WATT, James, Contesting the Gothic: Fiction, Genre and Cultural Conflict, 1764-1832, Cambridge: Cambrige UP, 1999.

2. Sur Bentham et la réforme
BRUNON-ERNST, Anne, Le Panoptique des pauvres, Paris : Presses de la Sorbonne nouvelle, 2007.

BRUNON-ERNST, Anne, « Les Métamorphoses panoptiques : de Foucault à Bentham », Cahiers critiques de philosophie, été 2007, n°4, pp.61-71.

DE CHAMPS, Emmanuelle, LaDéontologie politique ou la pensée constitutionnelle de Jeremy Bentham, Genève : Droz, 2008. 

FOUCAULT, Michel, Surveiller et punir, Paris : Gallimard, 1975.

FOUCAULT, Michel,  « L’œil du pouvoir », entretien avec J.-P. Barou et M. Perrot in Le Panoptique (J.-P. Barou, éd.), Paris : P. Belfond, 1977 (trad. M. Sissung). 

SCHOFIELD, Philip, Utility and Democracy, Oxford: Oxford UP, 2006.

WROBEL, Claire, « A Gothic Dystopia at the Antipodes: New South Wales in Bentham’s Letters to Lord Pelham », Gothic N.E.W.S. (Max Duperray, éd.), 2 vols., vol. 1, Paris: Michel Houdiard, 2009, pp. 111-124.

WROBEL, Claire, « Les cryptes du projet benthamien », L’Atelier, n°1. <http://latelier.u-paris10.fr/index.php/latelier/article/view/7>

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Notes

1  Voir pour le premier aspect, Brunon-Ernst, « Les Métamorphoses du Panoptique », Cahiers critiques de philosophie ; pour le second : Townshend, The Orders of Gothic.
2  Watt, Contesting the Gothic, p. 1, p. 6.
3  Miles, « The 1790s: The Effulgence of Gothic », pp. 41-42.
4  Longuel, « The word ‘Gothic’», pp. 453-454. « Barbare » renvoie ici,d’un point de vue historique, aux tribus germaniques responsables de la destruction de Rome et associées, d’un point de vue esthétique, à une architecture désordonnée.
5  Foucault, « L’œil du pouvoir », p. 18.
6  Botting, « In Gothic Darkly », p. 3.
7  Bentham, Panopticon, Bowring IV, p. 65.
8  Ibid., italiques dans le texte original.
9  Foucault, Surveiller et punir, p. 236.
10  Bentham, Panopticon, Postscript II, Bowring IV, p. 123.
11  Ibid., p. 154.
12  Bentham, Principles of Penal Law, Bowring I, pp. 421-422.
13  Ibid., p. 404. Voir Semple, Bentham’s Prison, pp. 26-27.
14  Bentham, Principles of Penal Law, p. 429 ; italiques dans le texte original.
15  Ibid., p. 422.
16  Bentham, Panopticon, p. 41.
17  Bentham, Panopticon, Postscript I, pp. 108-109; c’est moi qui souligne.
18  Bentham, Panopticon, p. 86.
19  Ibid., p. 46.
20  Cette analyse a été présentée de façon plus complète dans l’article « A Gothic Dystopia at the Antipodes ».
21  Radcliffe, The Italian, p. 206.
22  Bentham, Letters to Lord Pelham, 185 ; italiques dans le texte original.
23  Bentham, A Comment, Appendix F, Prefatory Materials, 320; c’est moi qui souligne. Burns et Hart signalent un mot manquant.
24  Cf Bentham, A Comment, p. 17, pp. 114-115, p. 123, p. 221 et Of Laws in General, note p. 3.
25  Bentham, A Comment, 12n ; italiques dans le texte original.
26  Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England, vol. 3, p. 268.
27  « What is the source of this premature anxiety to establish fundamental laws? It is the old conceit of being wiser than those who will have more experience:—the old appetite of ruling posterity, the old recipe for enabling the dead to chain down the living », « Observations on the Draughts of Declaration of Rights », Rights, Representation and Reform, p. 185; traduit par De Champs, Déontologie politique, p. 202.
28  Bentham, Book of Fallacies, Bowring II, p. 480 ;c’est moi qui souligne.
29  Ibid., p. 418 ; italiques dans le texte original.
30  Radcliffe, The Italian, p. 138.
31  Godwin, Enquiry into Political Justice, p. 125.
32  Paine, Rights of Man, p. 182.
33  Ibid., Appendice E, p. 327 ; c’est moi qui souligne. Le point d’interrogation a été ajouté par les éditeurs. La référence biblique est I Corinthiens 13 :12.
34  Radcliffe, The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne, p. 54 et The Mysteries of Udolpho, pp. 380-381.
35  Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, pp. 380-381.
36  Pour une analyse détaillée voir Wrobel, « Les cryptes du projet benthamien », L’Atelier.
37  Radcliffe, A Sicilian Romance, p. 63.
38  Radcliffe, The Italian, p. 372.
39  Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, p. 289.
40  Le lecteur apprendra par la suite qu’il s’agissaitde Du Pont, fait prisonnier, mais qui avait réussi à s’échapper. Ibid., p. 458.
41  Radcliffe, The Romance of the Forest, p. 137.
42  Foucault, Surveiller et punir, p. 234.
43  Botting, « Power in the darkness », p. 249.
44  Radcliffe, A Sicilian Romance, p. 172.
45  Ibid., p. 181.
46  Ibid., p. 183.
47  Le paradoxe du double enfermement est également mis en évidence dans The Romance of the Forest et dans The Mysteries of Udolpho. Dans The Romance of the Forest, quand Adeline est enlevée par le Marquis de Montalt et séquestrée dans sa villa, elle ferme la porte de sa chambre à clé pour se protéger. (p. 163) Dans The Mysteries of Udolpho, quand Emily est poursuivie par un homme de Montoni, elle s’en protège en s’enfermant. (p. 385) Montoni promet Emily à plusieurs de ses hommes, si bien que la jeune fille est harcelée. Pour fuir cette situation, elle « s’échappe » en s’enfermant de nouveau : « Emily escaped the persecutions of Bertolini and Verezzi, by confining herself to her apartment ». Ibid., p. 442.
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Référence électronique
Claire Wrobel, « Gothique, réforme et Panoptique », Revue d’études benthamiennes [En ligne], 7 | 2010, mis en ligne le 13 septembre 2010, consulté le 22 janvier 2014. URL : http://etudes-benthamiennes.revues.org/214
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Auteur

Claire Wrobel
Université Paris Ouest Nanterre


Notes de l'auteur
Cet article est tiré de la communication présentée le 13 décembre 2008 au cours d’un des ateliers sur l’utilitarisme organisés par le centre Bentham. Cette communication avait permis d’exposer un travail de recherche doctoral, intitulé « Gothique et Panoptique : lecture croisée des œuvres d’Ann Radcliffe et de Jeremy Bentham » et dirigé par M. Cornelius Crowley, Professeur à l’Université de Paris Ouest-Nanterre-La Défense. Cette thèse a été soutenue en novembre 2009.

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17 janv. 2014

A Good Man Is Hard To Find

      Flannery O'Connor, 1959








        



The grandmother didn't want to go to Florida. She wanted to visit some of her connections in east Tennessee and she was seizing at every chance to change Bailey's mind. Bailey was the son she lived with, her only boy. He was sitting on the edge of his chair at the table, bent over the orange sports section of the Journal. "Now look here, Bailey," she said, "see here, read this," and she stood with one hand on her thin hip and the other rattling the newspaper at his bald head. "Here this fellow that calls himself The Misfit is aloose from the Federal Pen and headed toward Florida and you read here what it says he did to these people. Just you read it. I wouldn't take my children in any direction with a criminal like that aloose in it. I couldn't answer to my conscience if I did."

Bailey didn't look up from his reading so she wheeled around then and faced the children's mother, a young woman in slacks, whose face was as broad and innocent as a cabbage and was tied around with a green head-kerchief that had two points on the top like rabbit's ears. She was sitting on the sofa, feeding the baby his apricots out of a jar. "The children have been to Florida before," the old lady said. "You all ought to take them somewhere else for a change so they would see different parts of the world and be broad. They never have been to east Tennessee."

The children's mother didn't seem to hear her but the eight-year-old boy, John Wesley, a stocky child with glasses, said, "If you don't want to go to Florida, why dontcha stay at home?" He and the little girl, June Star, were reading the funny papers on the floor.

"She wouldn't stay at home to be queen for a day," June Star said without raising her yellow head.

"Yes and what would you do if this fellow, The Misfit, caught you?" the grandmother asked.

"I'd smack his face," John Wesley said.

"She wouldn't stay at home for a million bucks," June Star said. "Afraid she'd miss something. She has to go everywhere we go."

"All right, Miss," the grandmother said. "Just remember that the next time you want me to curl your hair."

June Star said her hair was naturally curly.

The next morning the grandmother was the first one in the car, ready to go. She had her big black valise that looked like the head of a hippopotamus in one corner, and underneath it she was hiding a basket with Pitty Sing, the cat, in it. She didn't intend for the cat to be left alone in the house for three days because he would miss her too much and she was afraid he might brush against one of her gas burners and accidentally asphyxiate himself. Her son, Bailey, didn't like to arrive at a motel with a cat.

She sat in the middle of the back seat with John Wesley and June Star on either side of her. Bailey and the children's mother and the baby sat in front and they left Atlanta at eight forty-five with the mileage on the car at 55890. The grandmother wrote this down because she thought it would be interesting to say how many miles they had been when they got back. It took them twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of the city.

The old lady settled herself comfortably, removing her white cotton gloves and putting them up with her purse on the shelf in front of the back window. The children's mother still had on slacks and still had her head tied up in a green kerchief, but the grandmother had on a navy blue straw sailor hat with a bunch of white violets on the brim and a navy blue dress with a small white dot in the print. Her collars and cuffs were white organdy trimmed with lace and at her neckline she had pinned a purple spray of cloth violets containing a sachet. In case of an accident, anyone seeing her dead on the highway would know at once that she was a lady.

She said she thought it was going to be a good day for driving, neither too hot nor too cold, and she cautioned Bailey that the speed limit was fifty-five miles an hour and that the patrolmen hid themselves behind billboards and small clumps of trees and sped out after you before you had a chance to slow down. She pointed out interesting details of the scenery: Stone Mountain; the blue granite that in some places came up to both sides of the highway; the brilliant red clay banks slightly streaked with purple; and the various crops that made rows of green lace-work on the ground. The trees were full of silver-white sunlight and the meanest of them sparkled. The children were reading comic magazines and their mother and gone back to sleep.

"Let's go through Georgia fast so we won't have to look at it much," John Wesley said.

"If I were a little boy," said the grandmother, "I wouldn't talk about my native state that way. Tennessee has the mountains and Georgia has the hills."

"Tennessee is just a hillbilly dumping ground," John Wesley said, "and Georgia is a lousy state too."

"You said it," June Star said.

"In my time," said the grandmother, folding her thin veined fingers, "children were more respectful of their native states and their parents and everything else. People did right then. Oh look at the cute little pickaninny!" she said and pointed to a Negro child standing in the door of a shack. "Wouldn't that make a picture, now?" she asked and they all turned and looked at the little Negro out of the back window. He waved

"He didn't have any britches on," June Star said.

"He probably didn't have any," the grandmother explained. "Little riggers in the country don't have things like we do. If I could paint, I'd paint that picture," she said.

The children exchanged comic books.

The grandmother offered to hold the baby and the children's mother passed him over the front seat to her. She set him on her knee and bounced him and told him about the things they were passing. She rolled her eyes and screwed up her mouth and stuck her leathery thin face into his smooth bland one. Occasionally he gave her a faraway smile. They passed a large cotton field with five or fix graves fenced in the middle of it, like a small island. "Look at the graveyard!" the grandmother said, pointing it out. "That was the old family burying ground. That belonged to the plantation."

"Where's the plantation?" John Wesley asked.

"Gone With the Wind" said the grandmother. "Ha. Ha."

When the children finished all the comic books they had brought, they opened the lunch and ate it. The grandmother ate a peanut butter sandwich and an olive and would not let the children throw the box and the paper napkins out the window. When there was nothing else to do they played a game by choosing a cloud and making the other two guess what shape it suggested. John Wesley took one the shape of a cow and June Star guessed a cow and John Wesley said, no, an automobile, and June Star said he didn't play fair, and they began to slap each other over the grandmother.

The grandmother said she would tell them a story if they would keep quiet. When she told a story, she rolled her eyes and waved her head and was very dramatic. She said once when she was a maiden lady she had been courted by a Mr. Edgar Atkins Teagarden from Jasper, Georgia. She said he was a very good-looking man and a gentleman and that he brought her a watermelon every Saturday afternoon with his initials cut in it, E. A. T. Well, one Saturday, she said, Mr. Teagarden brought the watermelon and there was nobody at home and he left it on the front porch and returned in his buggy to Jasper, but she never got the watermelon, she said, because a nigger boy ate it when he saw the initials, E. A. T. ! This story tickled John Wesley's funny bone and he giggled and giggled but June Star didn't think it was any good. She said she wouldn't marry a man that just brought her a watermelon on Saturday. The grandmother said she would have done well to marry Mr. Teagarden because he was a gentle man and had bought Coca-Cola stock when it first came out and that he had died only a few years ago, a very wealthy man.

They stopped at The Tower for barbecued sandwiches. The Tower was a part stucco and part wood filling station and dance hall set in a clearing outside of Timothy. A fat man named Red Sammy Butts ran it and there were signs stuck here and there on the building and for miles up and down the highway saying, TRY RED SAMMY'S FAMOUS BARBECUE. NONE LIKE FAMOUS RED SAMMY'S! RED SAM! THE FAT BOY WITH THE HAPPY LAUGH. A VETERAN! RED SAMMY'S YOUR MAN!

Red Sammy was lying on the bare ground outside The Tower with his head under a truck while a gray monkey about a foot high, chained to a small chinaberry tree, chattered nearby. The monkey sprang back into the tree and got on the highest limb as soon as he saw the children jump out of the car and run toward him.

Inside, The Tower was a long dark room with a counter at one end and tables at the other and dancing space in the middle. They all sat down at a board table next to the nickelodeon and Red Sam's wife, a tall burnt-brown woman with hair and eyes lighter than her skin, came and took their order. The children's mother put a dime in the machine and played "The Tennessee Waltz," and the grandmother said that tune always made her want to dance. She asked Bailey if he would like to dance but he only glared at her. He didn't have a naturally sunny disposition like she did and trips made him nervous. The grandmother's brown eyes were very bright. She swayed her head from side to side and pretended she was dancing in her chair. June Star said play something she could tap to so the children's mother put in another dime and played a fast number and June Star stepped out onto the dance floor and did her tap routine.

"Ain't she cute?" Red Sam's wife said, leaning over the counter. "Would you like to come be my little girl?"

"No I certainly wouldn't," June Star said. "I wouldn't live in a broken-down place like this for a million bucks!" and she ran back to the table.

"Ain't she cute?" the woman repeated, stretching her mouth politely.

"Arn't you ashamed?" hissed the grandmother.

Red Sam came in and told his wife to quit lounging on the counter and hurry up with these people's order. His khaki trousers reached just to his hip bones and his stomach hung over them like a sack of meal swaying under his shirt. He came over and sat down at a table nearby and let out a combination sigh and yodel. "You can't win," he said. "You can't win," and he wiped his sweating red face off with a gray handkerchief. "These days you don't know who to trust," he said. "Ain't that the truth?"

"People are certainly not nice like they used to be," said the grandmother.

"Two fellers come in here last week," Red Sammy said, "driving a Chrysler. It was a old beat-up car but it was a good one and these boys looked all right to me. Said they worked at the mill and you know I let them fellers charge the gas they bought? Now why did I do that?"

"Because you're a good man!" the grandmother said at once.

"Yes'm, I suppose so," Red Sam said as if he were struck with this answer.

His wife brought the orders, carrying the five plates all at once without a tray, two in each hand and one balanced on her arm. "It isn't a soul in this green world of God's that you can trust," she said. "And I don't count nobody out of that, not nobody," she repeated, looking at Red Sammy.

"Did you read about that criminal, The Misfit, that's escaped?" asked the grandmother.

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he didn't attack this place right here," said the woman. "If he hears about it being here, I wouldn't be none surprised to see him. If he hears it's two cent in the cash register, I wouldn't be a tall surprised if he . . ."

"That'll do," Red Sam said. "Go bring these people their Co'-Colas," and the woman went off to get the rest of the order.

"A good man is hard to find," Red Sammy said. "Everything is getting terrible. I remember the day you could go off and leave your screen door unlatched. Not no more."

He and the grandmother discussed better times. The old lady said that in her opinion Europe was entirely to blame for the way things were now. She said the way Europe acted you would think we were made of money and Red Sam said it was no use talking about it, she was exactly right. The children ran outside into the white sunlight and looked at the monkey in the lacy chinaberry tree. He was busy catching fleas on himself and biting each one carefully between his teeth as if it were a delicacy.

They drove off again into the hot afternoon. The grandmother took cat naps and woke up every few minutes with her own snoring. Outside of Toombsboro she woke up and recalled an old plantation that she had visited in this neighborhood once when she was a young lady. She said the house had six white columns across the front and that there was an avenue of oaks leading up to it and two little wooden trellis arbors on either side in front where you sat down with your suitor after a stroll in the garden. She recalled exactly which road to turn off to get to it. She knew that Bailey would not be willing to lose any time looking at an old house, but the more she talked about it, the more she wanted to see it once again and find out if the little twin arbors were still standing. "There was a secret panel in this house," she said craftily, not telling the truth but wishing that she were, "and the story went that all the family silver was hidden in it when Sherman came through but it was never found . . ."

"Hey!" John Wesley said. "Let's go see it! We'll find it! We'll poke all the woodwork and find it! Who lives there? Where do you turn off at? Hey Pop, can't we turn off there?"

"We never have seen a house with a secret panel!" June Star shrieked. "Let's go to the house with the secret panel! Hey Pop, can't we go see the house with the secret panel!"

"It's not far from here, I know," the grandmother said. "It wouldn't take over twenty minutes."

Bailey was looking straight ahead. His jaw was as rigid as a horseshoe. "No," he said.

The children began to yell and scream that they wanted to see the house with the secret panel. John Wesley kicked the back of the front seat and June Star hung over her mother's shoulder and whined desperately into her ear that they never had any fun even on their vacation, that they could never do what THEY wanted to do. The baby began to scream and John Wesley kicked the back of the seat so hard that his father could feel the blows in his kidney.

"All right!" he shouted and drew the car to a stop at the side of the road. "Will you all shut up? Will you all just shut up for one second? If you don't shut up, we won't go anywhere."

"It would be very educational for them," the grandmother murmured.

"All right," Bailey said, "but get this: this is the only time we're going to stop for anything like this. This is the one and only time."

"The dirt road that you have to turn down is about a mile back," the grandmother directed. "I marked it when we passed."

"A dirt road," Bailey groaned.

After they had turned around and were headed toward the dirt road, the grandmother recalled other points about the house, the beautiful glass over the front doorway and the candle-lamp in the hall. John Wesley said that the secret panel was probably in the fireplace.

"You can't go inside this house," Bailey said. "You don't know who lives there."

"While you all talk to the people in front, I'll run around behind and get in a window," John Wesley suggested.

"We'll all stay in the car," his mother said.

They turned onto the dirt road and the car raced roughly along in a swirl of pink dust. The grandmother recalled the times when there were no paved roads and thirty miles was a day's journey. The dirt road was hilly and there were sudden washes in it and sharp curves on dangerous embankments. All at once they would be on a hill, looking down over the blue tops of trees for miles around, then the next minute, they would be in a red depression with the dust-coated trees looking down on them.

"This place had better turn up in a minute," Bailey said, "or I'm going to turn around."

The road looked as if no one had traveled on it in months.

"It's not much farther," the grandmother said and just as she said it, a horrible thought came to her. The thought was so embarrassing that she turned red in the face and her eyes dilated and her feet jumped up, upsetting her valise in the corner. The instant the valise moved, the newspaper top she had over the basket under it rose with a snarl and Pitty Sing, the cat, sprang onto Bailey's shoulder.

The children were thrown to the floor and their mother, clutching the baby, was thrown out the door onto the ground; the old lady was thrown into the front seat. The car turned over once and landed right-side-up in a gulch off the side of the road. Bailey remained in the driver's seat with the cat gray-striped with a broad white face and an orange nose clinging to his neck like a caterpillar.

As soon as the children saw they could move their arms and legs, they scrambled out of the car, shouting, "We've had an ACCIDENT!" The grandmother was curled up under the dashboard, hoping she was injured so that Bailey's wrath would not come down on her all at once. The horrible thought she had had before the accident was that the house she had remembered so vividly was not in Georgia but in Tennessee.

Bailey removed the cat from his neck with both hands and flung it out the window against the side of a pine tree. Then he got out of the car and started looking for the children's mother. She was sitting against the side of the red gutted ditch, holding the screaming baby, but she only had a cut down her face and a broken shoulder. "We've had an ACCIDENT!" the children screamed in a frenzy of delight.

"But nobody's killed," June Star said with disappointment as the grandmother limped out of the car, her hat still pinned to her head but the broken front brim standing up at a jaunty angle and the violet spray hanging off the side. They all sat down in the ditch, except the children, to recover from the shock. They were all shaking.

"Maybe a car will come along," said the children's mother hoarsely.

"I believe I have injured an organ," said the grandmother, pressing her side, but no one answered her. Bailey's teeth were clattering. He had on a yellow sport shirt with bright blue parrots designed in it and his face was as yellow as the shirt. The grandmother decided that she would not mention that the house was in Tennessee.

The road was about ten feet above and they could see only the tops of the trees on the other side of it. Behind the ditch they were sitting in there were more woods, tall and dark and deep. In a few minutes they saw a car some distance away on top of a hill, coming slowly as if the occupants were watching them. The grandmother stood up and waved both arms dramatically to attract their attention. The car continued to come on slowly, disappeared around a bend and appeared again, moving even slower, on top of the hill they had gone over. It was a big black battered hearselike automobile. There were three men in it.

It came to a stop just over them and for some minutes, the driver looked down with a steady expressionless gaze to where they were sitting, and didn't speak. Then he turned his head and muttered something to the other two and they got out. One was a fat boy in black trousers and a red sweat shirt with a silver stallion embossed on the front of it. He moved around on the right side of them and stood staring, his mouth partly open in a kind of loose grin. The other had on khaki pants and a blue striped coat and a gray hat pulled down very low, hiding most of his face. He came around slowly on the left side. Neither spoke.

The driver got out of the car and stood by the side of it, looking down at them. He was an older man than the other two. His hair was just beginning to gray and he wore silver-rimmed spectacles that gave him a scholarly look. He had a long creased face and didn't have on any shirt or undershirt. He had on blue jeans that were too tight for him and was holding a black hat and a gun. The two boys also had guns.

"We've had an ACCIDENT!" the children screamed.

The grandmother had the peculiar feeling that the bespectacled man was someone she knew. His face was as familiar to her as if she had known him all her life but she could not recall who he was. He moved away from the car and began to come down the embankment, placing his feet carefully so that he wouldn't slip. He had on tan and white shoes and no socks, and his ankles were red and thin. "Good afternoon," he said. "I see you all had you a little spill."

"We turned over twice!" said the grandmother.

"Once", he corrected. "We seen it happen. Try their car and see will it run, Hiram," he said quietly to the boy with the gray hat.

"What you got that gun for?" John Wesley asked. "Whatcha gonna do with that gun?"

"Lady," the man said to the children's mother, "would you mind calling them children to sit down by you? Children make me nervous. I want all you all to sit down right together there where you're at."

"What are you telling US what to do for?" June Star asked.

Behind them the line of woods gaped like a dark open mouth. "Come here," said their mother.

"Look here now," Bailey began suddenly, "we're in a predicament! We're in . . ."

The grandmother shrieked. She scrambled to her feet and stood staring. "You're The Misfit!" she said. "I recognized you at once!"

"Yes'm," the man said, smiling slightly as if he were pleased in spite of himself to be known, "but it would have been better for all of you, lady, if you hadn't of reckernized me."

Bailey turned his head sharply and said something to his mother that shocked even the children. The old lady began to cry and The Misfit reddened.

"Lady," he said, "don't you get upset. Sometimes a man says things he don't mean. I don't reckon he meant to talk to you thataway."

"You wouldn't shoot a lady, would you?" the grandmother said and removed a clean handkerchief from her cuff and began to slap at her eyes with it.

The Misfit pointed the toe of his shoe into the ground and made a little hole and then covered it up again. "I would hate to have to," he said.

"Listen," the grandmother almost screamed, "I know you're a good man. You don't look a bit like you have common blood. I know you must come from nice people!"

"Yes mam," he said, "finest people in the world." When he smiled he showed a row of strong white teeth. "God never made a finer woman than my mother and my daddy's heart was pure gold," he said. The boy with the red sweat shirt had come around behind them and was standing with his gun at his hip. The Misfit squatted down on the ground. "Watch them children, Bobby Lee," he said. "You know they make me nervous." He looked at the six of them huddled together in front of him and he seemed to be embarrassed as if he couldn't think of anything to say. "Ain't a cloud in the sky," he remarked, looking up at it. "Don't see no sun but don't see no cloud neither."

"Yes, it's a beautiful day," said the grandmother. "Listen," she said, "you shouldn't call yourself The Misfit because I know you're a good man at heart. I can just look at you and tell."

"Hush!" Bailey yelled. "Hush! Everybody shut up and let me handle this!" He was squatting in the position of a runner about to sprint forward but he didn't move.

"I pre-chate that, lady," The Misfit said and drew a little circle in the ground with the butt of his gun.

"It'll take a half a hour to fix this here car," Hiram called, looking over the raised hood of it.

"Well, first you and Bobby Lee get him and that little boy to step over yonder with you," The Misfit said, pointing to Bailey and John Wesley. "The boys want to ast you something," he said to Bailey. "Would you mind stepping back in them woods there with them?"

"Listen," Bailey began, "we're in a terrible predicament! Nobody realizes what this is," and his voice cracked. His eyes were as blue and intense as the parrots in his shirt and he remained perfectly still.

The grandmother reached up to adjust her hat brim as if she were going to the woods with him but it came off in her hand. She stood staring at it and after a second she let it fall on the ground. Hiram pulled Bailey up by the arm as if he were assisting an old man. John Wesley caught hold of his father's hand and Bobby I,ee followed. They went off toward the woods and just as they reached the dark edge, Bailey turned and supporting himself against a gray naked pine trunk, he shouted, "I'll be back in a minute, Mamma, wait on me!"

"Come back this instant!" his mother shrilled but they all disappeared into the woods.

"Bailey Boy!" the grandmother called in a tragic voice but she found she was looking at The Misfit squatting on the ground in front of her. "I just know you're a good man," she said desperately. "You're not a bit common!"

"Nome, I ain't a good man," The Misfit said after a second ah if he had considered her statement carefully, "but I ain't the worst in the world neither. My daddy said I was a different breed of dog from my brothers and sisters. 'You know,' Daddy said, 'it's some that can live their whole life out without asking about it and it's others has to know why it is, and this boy is one of the latters. He's going to be into everything!"' He put on his black hat and looked up suddenly and then away deep into the woods as if he were embarrassed again. "I'm sorry I don't have on a shirt before you ladies," he said, hunching his shoulders slightly. "We buried our clothes that we had on when we escaped and we're just making do until we can get better. We borrowed these from some folks we met," he explained.

"That's perfectly all right," the grandmother said. "Maybe Bailey has an extra shirt in his suitcase."

"I'll look and see terrectly," The Misfit said.

"Where are they taking him?" the children's mother screamed.

"Daddy was a card himself," The Misfit said. "You couldn't put anything over on him. He never got in trouble with the Authorities though. Just had the knack of handling them."

"You could be honest too if you'd only try," said the grandmother. "Think how wonderful it would be to settle down and live a comfortable life and not have to think about somebody chasing you all the time."

The Misfit kept scratching in the ground with the butt of his gun as if he were thinking about it. "Yestm, somebody is always after you," he murmured.

The grandmother noticed how thin his shoulder blades were just behind his hat because she was standing up looking down on him. "Do you every pray?" she asked.

He shook his head. All she saw was the black hat wiggle between his shoulder blades. "Nome," he said.

There was a pistol shot from the woods, followed closely by another. Then silence. The old lady's head jerked around. She could hear the wind move through the tree tops like a long satisfied insuck of breath. "Bailey Boy!" she called.

"I was a gospel singer for a while," The Misfit said. "I been most everything. Been in the arm service both land and sea, at home and abroad, been twict married, been an undertaker, been with the railroads, plowed Mother Earth, been in a tornado, seen a man burnt alive oncet," and he looked up at the children's mother and the little girl who were sitting close together, their faces white and their eyes glassy; "I even seen a woman flogged," he said.

"Pray, pray," the grandmother began, "pray, pray . . ."

I never was a bad boy that I remember of," The Misfit said in an almost dreamy voice, "but somewheres along the line I done something wrong and got sent to the penitentiary. I was buried alive," and he looked up and held her attention to him by a steady stare.

"That's when you should have started to pray," she said. "What did you do to get sent to the penitentiary that first time?"

"Turn to the right, it was a wall," The Misfit said, looking up again at the cloudless sky. "Turn to the left, it was a wall. Look up it was a ceiling, look down it was a floor. I forget what I done, lady. I set there and set there, trying to remember what it was I done and I ain't recalled it to this day. Oncet in a while, I would think it was coming to me, but it never come."

"Maybe they put you in by mistake," the old lady said vaguely.

"Nome," he said. "It wasn't no mistake. They had the papers on me."

"You must have stolen something," she said.

The Misfit sneered slightly. "Nobody had nothing I wanted," he said. "It was a head-doctor at the penitentiary said what I had done was kill my daddy but I known that for a lie. My daddy died in nineteen ought nineteen of the epidemic flu and I never had a thing to do with it. He was buried in the Mount Hopewell Baptist churchyard and you can go there and see for yourself."

"If you would pray," the old lady said, "Jesus would help you."

"That's right," The Misfit said.

"Well then, why don't you pray?" she asked trembling with delight suddenly.

"I don't want no hep," he said. "I'm doing all right by myself."

Bobby Lee and Hiram came ambling back from the woods. Bobby Lee was dragging a yellow shirt with bright blue parrots in it.

"Thow me that shirt, Bobby Lee," The Misfit said. The shirt came flying at him and landed on his shoulder and he put it on. The grandmother couldn't name what the shirt reminded her of. "No, lady," The Misfit said while he was buttoning it up, "I found out the crime don't matter. You can do one thing or you can do another, kill a man or take a tire off his car, because sooner or later you're going to forget what it was you done and just be punished for it."

The children's mother had begun to make heaving noises as if she couldn't get her breath. "Lady," he asked, "would you and that little girl like to step off yonder with Bobby Lee and Hiram and join your husband?"

"Yes, thank you," the mother said faintly. Her left arm dangled helplessly and she was holding the baby, who had gone to sleep, in the other. "Hep that lady up, Hiram," The Misfit said as she struggled to climb out of the ditch, "and Bobby Lee, you hold onto that little girl's hand."

"I don't want to hold hands with him," June Star said. "He reminds me of a pig."

The fat boy blushed and laughed and caught her by the arm and pulled her off into the woods after Hiram and her mother.

Alone with The Misfit, the grandmother found that she had lost her voice. There was not a cloud in the sky nor any sun. There was nothing around her but woods. She wanted to tell him that he must pray. She opened and closed her mouth several times before anything came out. Finally she found herself saying, "Jesus. Jesus," meaning, Jesus will help you, but the way she was saying it, it sounded as if she might be cursing.

"Yes'm, The Misfit said as if he agreed. "Jesus shown everything off balance. It was the same case with Him as with me except He hadn't committed any crime and they could prove I had committed one because they had the papers on me. Of course," he said, "they never shown me my papers. That's why I sign myself now. I said long ago, you get you a signature and sign everything you do and keep a copy of it. Then you'll know what you done and you can hold up the crime to the punishment and see do they match and in the end you'll have something to prove you ain't been treated right. I call myself The Misfit," he said, "because I can't make what all I done wrong fit what all I gone through in punishment."

There was a piercing scream from the woods, followed closely by a pistol report. "Does it seem right to you, lady, that one is punished a heap and another ain't punished at all?"

"Jesus!" the old lady cried. "You've got good blood! I know you wouldn't shoot a lady! I know you come from nice people! Pray! Jesus, you ought not to shoot a lady. I'll give you all the money I've got!"

"Lady," The Misfit said, looking beyond her far into the woods, "there never was a body that give the undertaker a tip."

There were two more pistol reports and the grandmother raised her head like a parched old turkey hen crying for water and called, "Bailey Boy, Bailey Boy!" as if her heart would break.

"Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead," The Misfit continued, "and He shouldn't have done it. He shown everything off balance. If He did what He said, then it's nothing for you to do but thow away everything and follow Him, and if He didn't, then it's nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness to him. No pleasure but meanness," he said and his voice had become almost a snarl.

"Maybe He didn't raise the dead," the old lady mumbled, not knowing what she was saying and feeling so dizzy that she sank down in the ditch with her legs twisted under her.

"I wasn't there so I can't say He didn't," The Misfit said. "I wisht I had of been there," he said, hitting the ground with his fist. "It ain't right I wasn't there because if I had of been there I would of known. Listen lady," he said in a high voice, "if I had of been there I would of known and I wouldn't be like I am now." His voice seemed about to crack and the grandmother's head cleared for an instant. She saw the man's face twisted close to her own as if he were going to cry and she murmured, "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children !" She reached out and touched him on the shoulder. The Misfit sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times through the chest. Then he put his gun down on the ground and took off his glasses and began to clean them.

Hiram and Bobby Lee returned from the woods and stood over the ditch, looking down at the grandmother who half sat and half lay in a puddle of blood with her legs crossed under her like a child's and her face smiling up at the cloudless sky.

Without his glasses, The Misfit's eyes were red-rimmed and pale and defenseless-looking. "Take her off and thow her where you thown the others," he said, picking up the cat that was rubbing itself against his leg.

"She was a talker, wasn't she?" Bobby Lee said, sliding down the ditch with a yodel.

"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."

"Some fun!" Bobby Lee said.

"Shut up, Bobby Lee," The Misfit said. "It's no real pleasure in life."