Gotyk... (Część II)
Cykl: Studia: Rok IV
1. Rejestracja...
2. Suplement...
3. Harmonogram... (I)
4. Harmonogram... (II)
5. Łoziński... (I)
6. Łoziński... (II)
7. Łoziński... (III)
8. Łoziński... (IV)
9. Cyberpunk...
10. Gotyk... (I)
11. Gotyk... (II)
12. Gotyk... (III)
13. Gotyk... (IV)
14. Gotyk... (V)
15. Stigmata... (I)
16. Stigmata... (II)
17. Stigmata... (III)
18. Stigmata... (IV)
19. Kataryniarz... (I)
20. Kataryniarz... (II)
21. Kataryniarz... (III)
22. Kataryniarz... (IV)
23. Kataryniarz... (V)
24. Kataryniarz... (VI)
25. Podsumowanie...
The Distribution of Power Within and Without The Gothic Mode in Edgar Allan Poe's The Purloined Letter
PART II:
OFFICIAL POWER AND THE ABUSE OF COMPETENCE
Although the tale is not an obvious implementation of the Gothic mode, it does introduce a certain Gothic mood. The story starts just after dark one gusty evening (454) in the confined space of one room. The narrator is sharing a moment of profound silence with his companion, the amateur detective C. Auguste Dupin, amongst smoke that oppressed the atmosphere of the chamber, which provides a certain tension before the door of [the] apartament [is] thrown open. This apparent use of force is a fair introduction of the power relations between the two citizens and a representative of the Parisian police, Monsieur G—, who in this story is an agent of official, though somewhat crude power (the two citizens — the detective in particular — in turn attain power through their intellectual capabilities). Although the Prefect is given a hearty welcome (455), it remains quite clear that his visit could not be turned down otherwise, as he is an official. The fact that the Prefect turns down the offer to light a lamp suggests to the readers that he is about to confide on some "dark", "shady" matter.
The Prefect represents official power — the power to exercise official oppression — although his view of his "victim" — the unlawful citizen — is rather crude and leads to a monomaniac exaggeration of authority and oppression. The reader is told that the Prefect lived amid an absolute region of oddities and considered his latest case of the purloined letter to be both simple and odd. Therefore, not only does he distance himself from the unlawful, "odd" members of the society as an exterior "other", he also reduces them to something "simple". Because he considers his latest case simple, he applies crude force where it is unnecessary. Although Monsieur G— states that his chief embarrassment lay in the necessity of searching without [the thief's] knowledge (457), he proceeds to search his premises thoroughly in a feat of monomaniac scrutiny. The gentlemen are told that that the police divided [the hotel's] entire surface into compartments, which [they] numbered so that none might be missed; then [they] scrutinised each individual square inch throughout the premises (458). The Prefect also admits that the Minister had been twice waylaid, as if by footpads, and his person rigorously searched under [the Prefect's] own inspection. Both procedures turned out to be an unnecessary execution of authority. Here, perhaps, lies the difference between official, effective power and its exaggeration — oppressive power. The Prefect, in his crude (mis)understanding of his victim, applied the latter. For him, power lies in the ability to exercise official, meticulous scrutiny, which transforms into the oppression of monomania, or — in the words of Lacan — repetition automatism (3). Not only is the automatism of official, police oppression focused on repetition, it is applied in every circumstance, regardless of its target (victim). Monsieur G— admits that the Parisian Police have done this thing [search] before (457) — and, judging by how thoughtless the search for the purloined letter was, it is to be assumed the police's previous searches have been just as meaningless. Although detective Dupin admits that [the police's] measures were good in their kind, and well executed, he goes on to add that their defect lay in their being inapplicable to the case, and to the man (462). Not only is police authority repetitive and not at all selective, it is also total in its oppression, as Monsieur G— openly boasts that he has keys (...) with which [he] can open any chamber or cabinet in Paris (458). When the police do not succeed in forcing their authority, at best (...) they extend or exaggerate their old modes of practice, without touching their principles (464). It is also clear that as a law official Monsieur G— distances himself from the society he protects. When he is forced to work within the society and confide in detective Dupin, he risks his authority and admits that he should most probably lose the position [he] now [holds] were it known that [he] confided it to any one (456).
Because of the Prefect's insistence that the letter is nowhere to be found, at this point of the tale the reader is inclined to believe that the letter's disappearance is illogical, unnatural, or, indeed — supernatural. Before detective Dupin applies reason and finds his solution to the mystery of the letter's disappearance, the reader follows the mystery through Monsieur G—'s perspective of monomania, which gives the story a subtle, Gothic quality. Monsieur G—, after having employed all available courses of action within his personal method of reasoning, seems ready to abandon reason altogether and, risking his authority, calls on detective Dupin for help. Only then does the story turn from monomania to ratiocination. Dupin, following the words Poe attributed to Seneca — nothing is more hateful to wisdom than excessive cleverness — is able to distance himself from Monsieur G—'s monomaniac perspective and insist it is the very simplicity of the thing which puts [Monsieur G—] at fault (456). Having delved into the thief's mode of reasoning, Dupin concludes the letter is not hidden, but in fact exposed in plain sight.
(3) Lacan, Jacques. "Seminar on The Purloined Letter." The Purloined Poe... P. 32.
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