The Seventh Function of Language

But La Rochefoucauld … him, yes. After all, Barthes owes a great deal to Maximes. He was a semiologist before his time, in that he knew how to decode the human soul through the signs of our behavior … The greatest master in French literature, no less … Barthes sees the Prince of Marcillac riding proudly beside the Grand Condé in the ditches of Faubourg Saint-Antoine, under fire from Turenne’s troops, thinking, my word, what a beautiful day for dying …

What’s happening? He can’t breathe anymore. His throat has suddenly shrunk.

But the Grande Mademoiselle will open the city gates to let the Condé’s troops in, and La Rochefoucauld, wounded in the eyes, temporarily blind, will not die, not this time, and will recover …

He opens his eyes. And he sees her, haloed by blinding light, like a representation of the Virgin Mary. He is suffocating. He tries to call for help, but no sound emerges from his mouth.

He’ll recover, won’t he? Won’t he?

She smiles sweetly at him and presses his head against the pillow to prevent him from sitting up. Not that he has enough strength, anyway. This time it’s for good, he knows it. He would like to surrender but his body goes into convulsions. His body wants to live. His frightened brain craves the oxygen that is no longer entering his bloodstream. Spurred by a final burst of adrenaline, his heart races, then slows down again.

“Always to love, to suffer, to expire.” In the end, his final thought is a line of verse from Corneille.

24

The television news, March 26, 1980, 8:00 p.m., presented by Patrick Poivre d’Arvor:

“Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. A great deal of news that … [PPDA pauses for a second] affects our day-to-day lives. So, some of it is good, some less so. I’ll let you decide which is which.” (From his apartment, next to Place Clichy, Deleuze, who never misses the evening news, replies from the comfort of his armchair: “Thank you!”)

8:01 p.m.: “First of all, the rise in the cost of living for the month of February: 1.1 percent. ‘It’s not a very good sign,’ said René Monory, the minister for the economy—although it is better [it would have been difficult to be worse, says PPDA, and, in front of his TV set, on Rue de Bièvre, Mitterrand thinks the same thing] than the figure for January: 1.9 percent. Also better than the corresponding figures for the United States and Great Britain and … the same as West Germany’s.” (At the mention of their German rivals, Giscard, who is signing documents at his desk in the Élysée, chuckles mechanically without looking up. In his attic room, Hamed is getting ready to go out, but can’t find his second sock.)

8:09 p.m.: “There are strikes, too, in schools. Tomorrow, the teachers’ union is calling on its members in Paris and the Essonne to protest against planned class closures for the next academic year.” (Holding a Chinese beer in one hand, his cigarette holder in the other, Sollers curses from his sofa: “A nation of bureaucrats!” From the kitchen, Kristeva replies: “I’m making sauté de veau.”)

8:10 p.m.: “Finally, some news that will come as a ‘breath of fresh air,’ so to speak [Simon rolls his eyes]: the significant reduction in atmospheric pollution in France over the last seven years. Sulfur emissions down thirty percent, according to Michel d’Ornano, the environment minister, and carbon dioxide down forty-six percent.” (Mitterrand tries to put on a grimace of disgust, but in fact this doesn’t alter his usual expression.)

8:11 p.m.: “So, foreign news … Today, in Chad … Afghanistan … Colombia…” (Various countries are mentioned but no one listens, except Foucault. Hamed finds his sock.)

8:12 p.m.: “A rather surprising victory for Edward Kennedy in the New York State primaries…” (Deleuze picks up his telephone to call Félix Guattari. At home, Bayard irons his shirt in front of the television.)

8:13 p.m.: “The number of road accidents rose last year, the Gendarmerie Nationale informs us: 12,480 deaths and 250,000 accidents in 1979 … that’s equal to the entire population of a town like Salon-de-Provence dying in these accidents. [Hamed wonders why the newsreader chose Salon-de-Provence.] Figures that give us food for thought, with the Easter holidays approaching…” (Sollers lifts a finger and exclaims: “Food for thought! Food for thought, Julia, do you hear?… Isn’t that marvelous?… Figures that give us food for thought, ha!” Kristeva replies: “Dinner’s ready!”)

8:15 p.m.: “A road accident that could have had very serious consequences: yesterday, a truck transporting radioactive materials collided with another truck before crashing into a ditch. But thanks to the safety systems, there has not been a radioactive leak.” (Mitterrand, Foucault, Deleuze, Althusser, Simon, Lacan, all laugh loudly in front of their respective TV sets. Bayard lights a cigarette while continuing to iron shirts.)