The Tears of Eros Georges Bataille Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation https://archive.org/details/tearsoferos0000bata THE TEARS OF EROS THE TEARS OF EROS by Georges Bataille Translated by Peter Connor T City Lights Books San Francisco This book was originally published as Les larmes d’Eros, © 1961 by Jean-Jacques Pauvert, Paris The Tears of Eros was published in several versions in France after the original Pauvert edition. This first English language translation includes most of the illustrations which appear in the original. © 1989 City Lights Books Cover design: Rex Ray Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Bataille, Georges. 1897-1962 [Larmes d’Eros. English] The tears of Eros / by Georges Bataille: translated by Peter Connor, p. 224 Translation of: Les larmes d’Eros. ISBN 0-87286-222-4 (pbk) : $14.95 1. Erotic Art. I. Title. N8217.E6B313 1988 88-16164 704.9'428—dcl9 CIP Printed in Hong Kong City Lights Books are available to bookstores through our primary distributor: Subterranean Company, Box 168, 265 S. 5th Street, Monroe, Oregon 97456. 1-503-847-5274. Toll-free orders 1-800-274-7826. LAX 503-847-6018.Our books are also available through library jobbers and regional distributors. Lor personal orders and catalogs, please write to City Lights Mail Order: 261 Columbus Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94133. CITY LIGHTS BOOKS are edited by Lawrence Lerlinghetti & Nancy J. Peters and published at the City Lights Bookstore, 261 Columbus Avenue, San Lrancisco, CA 94133. CONTENTS Georges Bataille, From Afar . . An Introduction by J.M. Lo Duca 1 Letters 9 Foreword by Georges Bataille 19 Part One: The Beginning (The Birth of Eros) I. THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF DEATH 1. Eroticism, Death and the ‘Devil’ 23 2. Prehistoric Man and the Painted Caves 25 3. Eroticism Linked to the Awareness of Death 32 4. Death at the Bottom of the ‘Pit’ in the Lascaux Cave 34 II. WORK AND PLAY E Eroticism, Work and the ‘Little Death’ 39 2. Doubly Magical Caves 45 Part Two: The End (From Antiquity to the Present Day) I. DIONYSOS OR ANTIQUITY 1. The Birth of War 57 2. Slavery and Prostitution 58 3. The Primacy of Work BO 4. On the Role of the Lower Classes in the Development of Religious Eroticism 5. From Erotic Laughter to Prohibition 66 6. Tragic Eroticism 69 7. The God of Transgression and the Feast: Dionysos 70 8. The Dionysiac World 72 II. THE CHRISTIAN ERA 1. From Christian Condemnation to Morbid Exaltation (Or from Christianity to Satanism) 79 2. The Reappearance of Eroticism in Painting 82 3. Mannerism 87 4. Libertinage in the Eighteenth Century and the Marquis de Sade 103 5. Goya 129 6. Gilles de Rais and Erzsebet Bathory 138 7. The Evolution of the Modern World 142 8. Delacroix, Manet, Degas, Gustave Moreau and the Surrealists III. BY WAY OF CONCLUSION 1. Compelling Figures 162 2. Voodoo Sacrifice 199 3. Chinese Torture 205 GEORGES BATAILLE, FROM AFAR . . . I. Who speaks here? The witness, the critic, the collaborator, the historian, the friend? Each one would need more than a year to sketch out a serious discourse, or to act as a disciple and remain silent. Even at the outer edges of intuition I can do no more than cast a glance, in broad daylight, into the night of this new Plato’s cave which Georges Bataille has hollowed out in order to think through the darkness of the unspeakable. The witness proves, however, unexpectedly helpful. In Bataille there was a man—a very beauti¬ ful and very saintly man—and to have seen him live cannot but scatter sparks of light into the dark¬ ness of his work. Paul Valery himself deemed it fitting to follow, line by line, image by image, caption by caption, the making of an entire book by this infinitely peaceable author who was so haunted by its destiny. It is thus that I see the gentle historian moving across the highly waxed floor of the Bibliotheque d’Orleans, or among the blue and gold bookcases of what used to be the palace of the archbishop of that town. This makes it easier for me to open the briefcase in which fifty- seven of his letters (some of them six pages long) still speak of the slow pace of writing, of concern over the illustrations for a thesis on eroticism that has become, through force of time, his last will and testament. I admit it: I am proud to have been at that particular moment at the heart of the personal history of Georges Bataille. These letters are from Orleans, of course, from Fontenay-le-Conte, from Sables d’Olonne, from Seillans and from Vezelay. I have also copied, by hand on two fragments of orange paper, the text by Georges Dumas on Pleasure and Pain, which so impressed him. And his notes, the foreword (nine manuscript sheets), and the first meticulously corrected proofs. And also a letter from Henri Parisot, which filled him with joy, accompanying the color photograph of Balthus’ The Guitar Lesson (it was around the time of the Methode de Meditation). It was on the 24th of July, 1959, that Bataille decided upon the title of this book: The Tears of Eros (“Pauvert will love it,” he added, not without malice). On the same date, he asked me in re¬ gard to the New Dictionary of Sexology to make sure to include articles on Gilles de Rais, Erzsebet Bathory, the Sacred, Transgression, Fashion, Nudity, Jean Genet, Pierre Klossowski ... his favor¬ ite voices. The idea of The Tears of Eros never left him, and he planned it down to the most minute detail, from the economy of the chapters to the cropping of the photographs (he even made me a sketch of a tapestry by Rosso in which I was supposed to find a detail which interested him), and including a very elaborate selection of images from the prehistoric era, the Ecole de Fontainebleau, and from the Surrealists, both avowed and clandestine. For two years, from July, 1959 to April, 1961, he elaborated the layout of this work, which in¬ creasingly took on the proportions of a conclusion to all the themes he had loved. Putting it togeth¬ er, however, was slow, and The Tears of Eros was held up both by circumstance [“Meanwhile, my eldest daughter has been arrested for her activities (for Algeria)”1] and by the decline of his physical strength (“. . . I must admit, I am not seeing very clearly. . . . ”).2 The book was finished—I shall say later under what circumstances—and he was happy with it: it was a unified whole, from the choice of the typeface to the rhythm of the page layouts; he had taken care that his ideas were neither slowed down, nor impeded, nor betrayed by a misplaced image. Although he was the most courteous of men, Bataille became peremptory when it came to supervising the material form his work should take.3 The Tears of Eros was well done indeed, and Bataille had in a sense been able to fulfill the desire of Valery, for whom an image could often advantageously replace a writer’s falla¬ cious description. From Gautier d’Agoty to the plates by Cranach and to Christian and Chinese tortures, the image said everything in a compressed form, whereas words were only a tame reflec¬ tion. The book pleased him and I presume it must have brought him one of his last joys. He never had the annoyance of knowing about the blacklisting of his book by our deplorable censor—Mal- raux was in power—on one of his most ignoble days, one in the sequence that saw him make the mistake of banning Stekel, Havelock Ellis and Alban Berg. Bataille was by then beyond reach. The act of censorship revelled only in its own shame (along with the whole4 of the French press, it might be said in passing, who remained silent). II. My relationship with Georges Bataille and the context of this book—which he wrote during this time—contribute to the delineation of my hypothesis: very early on, Georges Bataille must have abandoned himself to the anguish of death, perhaps even to an inner panic that ended in a system of defense; his entire work is laid out over this defensive mask. In order to tolerate the idea of death in these conditions, it had to be at one and the same time dressed up in sparkling colors, reduced to a sublime moment (the last moment), laughed at, and made into “the most horrible of horrible things,” “the single harbour against the torments of this life.”5 Finally, there is the trace of that wild desire to avert its impact by refusing to draw a conlcusion. “These judgments should lead to silence and I write. This is in no way paradoxical.” Yes, but to express silence, silence no longer suffices. Others have tried the absolute renunciation of writing. They make me think irresistibly of a sentence in Chateaubriand (addressed to Julia Michel in 1838): “I am an enemy of every book, and if I could destroy my own, I would not fail to do so.” Even the Memoires d’Outre-Tombe is virtu¬ ally finished. Language may indeed be an obstacle, but it is also the only means. “You will hear, coming from within, a voice that leads to your destiny. It is the voice of desire, and not that of any desirable being.” Here again we find Bataille’s incisive poetry, without literary resonance, as when he states: “The wind from outside is writing this book.” He must have been aware of how much the proclaimed impersonality of thinking in reality bears his signature. Whether he likes it or not, it is Hegel who suggests to him that “the life that withstands death and sustains itself in it is the life of the mind” (I quote from memory). This is what marks the superior¬ ity of Hegelian thought, which is composed of knowing and knowledge, over other currents of thought, which have only knowing, and which for this very reason are blind. 2