Rodolphe’s box called to mind images of Law & Order. Of course Rodolphe isn’t exactly killing anyone, but his box of bloodied handkerchiefs, love letters, garters, masks and hair isn’t exactly dissimilar to what you might find in a serial killer’s house. Well, I suppose he is a serial adulterer. He keeps mementos or souvenirs of the previous women that he has had affairs with and uses the objects to recall memories of them; to reminisce. That also shows how much each women meant to him. To him, their worth equals a little piece of paper that they sent him, or a piece of hair they gave him. When they are all reduced to objects, no one woman stands out from the other.
Rodolphe is a sexual egoist and a narcissist. He prides himself on the fact that when he sets his sights on a woman, like he did Emma, he can have her and that when he is done with her, he can break-off the relationship easily while knowing that she is crying for him. He is also so full of himself that he is convinced that he can control and manipulate every aspect of the relationship to the very end. He even goes so far as to drip water onto the letter he is going to send to Emma to make it seem as if he were crying. He is taking joy in playing his role in a play that he has created for himself. Everything besides the sex (well, maybe even the sex, who knows) was an act and he kept all of these objects as a symbol of a job well done, just like a stage actor might keep a bouquet of roses given to him after a performance.
Yet, I don’t think I dislike Rodolphe as much as I probably should because Flaubert has forced me to really dislike Charles. Part two, chapter eleven was the icing on the cake when it came to Charles’ failures. The entire chapter was dedicated to highlighting the inadequacies of Charles. The fact that he choose to do the surgery knowing full well of his own limitations simply because he was blinded, yet again, by his ignorant love for Emma, is no longer him just being eager to please, but completely negligible. It’s not a very charming quality anymore. His idiocy furthers when he assumes that Emma is upset because of a “nervous illness”.
Now, I no longer feel pity for him because his wife refused to love him. And I no longer feel the slight animosity I felt towards Emma before for being so unhappy. Sure, Rodolphe was insincere towards Emma and used her, but he had those intentions from the very beginning. I think it’s almost worse that Charles is oblivious to how much of a putz he is.
Not only was Charles the only one who didn’t suspect that Emma was having an affair, he allowed her to ruin him financially. Even when he is given chances to take control- for example, when he found out that the piano teacher didn’t know Emma, or when his mother tried to get him to take back power of attorney over the finances, or even when he finds the letter from Rodolphe- he still manages to do nothing. He even lets her stay behind with Leon! At this point he’s not just a pushover anymore. He is laying on the ground and begging people to walk all over him. And when he finally comes to terms with the fact that Emma was unfaithful (which he refuses to do until after she dies), he choses not to blame Emma or Rodolphe, but fate. FATE!
And still, Flaubert took it a step further by making Charles’ death a beautiful scene in the garden. There were rays of light and jasmine perfumed air and shadows cast by vine leaves. It was picturesque. Death was the only thing that he did successfully.
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