| Title | : | Mademoiselle de Maupin |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0140448136 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780140448139 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 363 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1835 |
In this shocking tale of sexual deception, Gautier draws readers into the bedrooms and boudoirs of a French château in a compelling exploration of desire and sexual intrigue, and gives voice to a longing which is larger in scope, namely, the wish for completeness in oneself.
Mademoiselle de Maupin Reviews
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Mademoiselle de Maupin is a symphony of adjectives, in which the thematic material alternately suggests the most exquisite pleasures of the senses. It is an ineffably beautiful tableau, heady, intoxicating, Dionysiac, conceived in ecstasy. It is, indeed a “golden book” as close an approximation to painting in the realm of pure aesthetics as anything in words may be. It is a celebration of beauty and its mood is always that of delight. So rare is this the accomplishment of the novelist and so far away is it from the usual mingling of love with tragedy, sorrow, and disillusion, that were it nothing else, the novel should solicit our affection and the novelist deserve our gratitude. Such are the words of American literary critic Burton Rascoe characterizing this sumptuous, grand novel back in 1920.
More specifically, the novel’s main character and first person narrator Chevalier d’Albert is a supreme lover in the tradition of nineteenth century romanticism, loving his dreamy idealizations of women, rotating visions and intense yearnings for goddesses, wood nymphs, angels and female beauties in all shades and variations; loving the idea of being in love (ah, to be so dramatic and such a romantic you are swept away by loving love itself!); and, last but by no means least, in the first chapters of the novel, playing the part of a lover drunk on the beauty of a young woman, Rosette by name. All these passionate feelings and moods mix and mingle to create a festival of sensual splendor.
I have underlined a passage or two or three or more on each and every page. The language and images and metaphors take my breath away. If there ever was a novel where we should open ourselves to literary magic, Mademoiselle de Maupin is that novel. Reading Gautier’s masterpiece, I’m reminded of the words and wisdom of Arthur Schopenhauer, philosopher of art par excellence: “Treat a work of art like a prince. Let it speak to you first.”
And , please, please, please, let this prince of a novel speak to you. Here is Gautier’s lush, poetic prose, this sample from the narrator’s pre-Rosette days, “I am waiting for heaven to open up and an angel to bring me a revelation, or for a revolution to break out and offer me a throne; for one of Raphael’s virgins to step down from her canvas and embrace me; for non-existent relatives to die and leave me enough to allow my imagination to drift away on a river of gold, for a hippogriff to capture me and carry me off to an unknown country.”
The novel is also chock-full of whimsy, hilarity and baroque comedy. For example: here is d’Albert on painterly beauty after spending hours in front of a mirror musing on how his face falls short of his ideal, “You see so many beautiful faces in pictures! Why is none of them mine? So many lovely heads disappearing in the dust and smoke of time at the back of old galleries. Would it not be better if they jumped out of their frames and came to grace my shoulders? Would the reputation of Raphael suffer so very much if one of those angels thronging his ultramarine canvases were to let me borrow his features for thirty years” Yes, indeed, we do have a narrator-dreamer who can out-Narcissus Narcissus.
So far this is a tale of garden-fresh love and intense sensual pleasures between a man and a woman. But there comes a point, surprise, surprise – things change – intensity and freshness, no matter how intense and how fresh, fades. Alas, d’Albert tells us in so many words that he and Rosette are at the point where they have had enough of one another. What is needed is an infusion of energy to lift them to unexplored vistas of raw sensuality, passion and unspeakable beauty. And such an infusion arrives on the scene, a personage who turns out to be a triple dose of energy -- a supremely graceful, super-sexually-charged, a cross-dressing, gender-shifting, high-octane lad (a lass, really) on horseback -- Théodore aka Mademoiselle de Maupin.
Pure literary magic shinning with the brightness and heat of the midday sun. And this Penguin edition is a most readable translation along with an informative introduction, notes, footnotes and Gautier’s famous preface expounding an "art for art sake" aesthetic in answer to the up-tight moralist hacks of his day. Indeed, art for art sake, reading for reading sake, dance for dance sake – as in Matisse’s five joyous dancers – and with this book in hand the five dancers are: D’Albert, Rosette, Théodore, goddess Aphrodite, and you as reader. Joie de vivres.
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More people should know about this pioneering feminist lovestruck poetical drivelling masterpiece. Your plot antics are bare: a poet looking for his perfect Venus encounters hurdles in his search, finding no luck in the pink-cheeked Rosette whom he diddles for five months out of kindness. When he claps eyes on the girlish man Theodore (who happens to be a woman, but ssshhh) he finds his Venus par excellence and goes stark raving mad like all melodramatic romantic poets who want to mainline beauty into their veins. Theodore is a woman kicking against the limitations of her gender, outclassing all the men with her horsing and fencing prowess, beating off Rosette who also topples arse-over-head-over-elbows in love with her. But this novel is not about the banalities of upper-class debauchery, it's about the excess. The irresistible ravings of this eloquent romantic, his glorious tracts on beauty, love and the sensual world. This novel is like caressing the buttocks of a Greek odalisque while having wine skooshed into one’s parched throat. It is a sublime, delicious concoction and so pulsatingly erotic, the pages throb in one’s palms like the quivering want of a girded loin before the fast release of orgasm. Find it.
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"How does Michelangelo manage to cut out slices of marble as if he were a child carving a chestnut? What steel went into the making of those unbending chisels? And what sturdy hips have borne all the prolific artists and craftsmen who find no matter resistant, but make their dreams flow freely out into the fullness of colour and bronze?"- Mademoiselle de Maupin
I don't think this book is as shocking as the synopsis make out, in fact if you do read the synopsis you will know exactly what the story is going to be about. And that's one thing I find interesting about the classics; there's more to the story than the actual story, if that makes sense. What I mean is, in addition to the story we know we're getting, you will, in this case, be surprised by the art critique, feminist critique and so on. So spoilers aren't really spoilers.
The story revolves around D'Albert who is bored and wants a mistress. Only a very beautiful one though. D'Albert is obsessed with beauty and, despite his love of the female form, is very misogynistic:
"Poems only convey the ghost of beauty, not beauty itself. The painter achieves a more exact semblance, but it is only a semblance. A sculpture contains all the reality which something totally false can possess. It can be viewed from many sides, it casts a shadow and can be touched."
This is an epistolary novel, a novel form I really fell in love with after reading The Colour Purple and Les Liaisions Dangereuses. Another thing that made this novel special was Gautier's incredible writing style which was supplemented by the fact he has a very artistic eye and knows a lot about art. There are so many passages in the book that could very well have been describing paintings.I like the allusions to the ancient Greeks.
The feminism in this book was very surprising, unexpected from a male French writer from that time, at least to me:
"The reality is that neither of these two sexes is mine. I possess neither the foolish submissiveness, nor the shyness, not the mean-spiritness of women. I do not have the vices of men, their disgusting, vile nature and their brutal inclinations. I am of a third separate sex which does not yet have a name; higher or lower than them, inferior or superior. I have the body and soul of a woman, the mind and strength of a man, and I have too much or not enough of the one or the other to be able to pair up with either."
So, not exactly shocking but very beautifully written. -
Sex is everywhere, except in sexuality.( R. Barthes).Eroticism seduces sex into a passionate euphoria ; the games of seduction upstages the terminating biological process. Sex is limited; seduction is limitless performing aesthetic gestural plays of sensual rituals challenging moralistic foundations. Seduction is always more singular and sublime than sex, and it commands the higher price (Baudrillard). Liberation of passion from its didactic shackles, love being embraced with a poetic mirage; the beauty of love in its immoralist exhibit- a virtuous revolt of unattainable love being the ultimate allure. Not that this game is perverse. What is perverse is what perverts the order of the terms; but here there are no longer any terms to pervert, only signs to seduce. (Baudrillard;Seduction). Theophile Gautier’s elaboration of his self-coined phrase,"Art for art’s sake", is a celebration of identifying the splendor of love in it pure form; a bohemian expression of devoted possession that nurture the radicalism in a poet’s despair. Poetry is aesthetically alluring; prose is insipid, clean as water. Dream of love, weep in its agony, clinch its vices and contemplate in its ruins for nothing corrupts like not being loved.
Madelaine de Maupin was far from being a virginal bashful maiden. In a self-revolt to the ritualistic regulations of finding an appropriate suitor, she is determined to find more about men and their world by disguising as a man. Her tomboyish persona and an acute swordsmanship help Theodore(Mlle.Maupin) to explore the chivalrous masquerade of men. The impeccable cover up bequeaths Theodore with his first tryst with potential love as Rosette succumbs to his coquettish charm and passionately falls in love with Theodore. Theo, himself (herself) is romantically inclined to Rosette far enough as to take care not to hurt Rosette’s feelings when the love becomes distant. The love exhibited between the two (also later with D’Albert) is truly in its aesthetic form devoid of any sexual encounters. Chastity was the main element among the three characters when they define their respected love. When Maupin (Theodore) can no longer control the events with Rosette in their bedroom, flees leaving Rosette heartbroken with an unfulfilled love. As the novel progresses into a mesh of passions flying all over the corresponding letters, Theodore finds himself being the object of affection of D’Albert. D’Albert is stunned by the fact that his “true” love is man and desires Theodore to be a woman as he cannot fathom his quandary of deciding the legitimacy of his love. How can he love Theodore so fervently and not Rosette who has been his mistress for months? Maupin does not reveal the true identity of Theodore in favor of genuine love not being tarnished by debauchery.
Gautier was free thinker who looked up to Victor Hugo and Charles Fourier among other iconoclasts emphasizing that justifying an artistic pursuit unvalued the core of its aesthetics. He flirts with the aspects of bisexuality and gender restriction in this proposal of love delineated through letters written by the characters is par above gender restriction, societal prejudices; purely love in its crude form. Gautier did not corrupt the seductive atmosphere of the plot with sexual tryst or any sort of its elaboration and feted the inspiration of wild pleasures that go beyond physical normalization. The offset of bisexuality in Maupin’s life with her unbridled passion for Rosette was marred with the thought of revealing the uncouth reality. I wonder if Rosette would indulge in Maupin’s sensuality if she knew who the real identity.Although my skepticism take a plunge in the concluding chapter when Rosette and Theodore indulge in their last of wild passion with the maid discovering pearls which Maupin was wearing while clearing out the bed clothes. Or for that matter, D’Albert who insisted on calling Theodore by his theatre name- Rosalind in a bid to save himself from accepting the idea of falling in love with a man. Love captures all, is not what people preach and yet we as a society fail to accept the very aspect of enlightened love by negotiating unwanted gender bias laws. We live in a free world with shackled outlook. Gautier based his heroine (Maupin) in a world where lovers were clandestine in their actions and marriages were more of a formal engagement. Similar to Victor Margueritte’s sketch of
La Garçonne">Monique Lerbier; Maupin gives me goose bumps. The very idea of a woman revolting against the societal norm is still very appeasing to me. In a culture where the sacredness of arranged marriages is still preserved and casteism many a times becomes a debating factor in conjugal associations, sexually liberation is veiled under sanctimonious hypocrisy; it’s an elation to interpret such an ardent work of sheer romanticism.
Is love virtuous? Fair enough, I believe so. When human emotions integrate within the trance of love, its illusionary beauty penetrates deeper into moralizing vortex of genuine emotions. The heart upstages the eyes; I reckon that must be the sole reason of Theodore vanishing from the lives of Rosette and D’Albert desiring that they share the passion of their love. The life of a lover or a poet may seem rousing to those whose naivety to the melancholic fatigue is reminiscent to a child on a realism threshold. Even though the society has lost of its right to be artless and bashful with its marriage to civilization, there are times when a poem cannot be read solely as a poem for there is a possibility of its artistic consciousness being ruined by the colorless prose of sincere love. -
There’s so much going on in this novel, one could easily write a doctoral dissertation on the myriad issues presented. But this isn’t the appropriate forum for an in-depth academic exploration of misogyny, male chauvinism, objectification, love, the worship of beauty, transgressive sexuality and gender norms. I took a class in college called “Intro to Transgressive Literature,” and wonder why we didn’t read this. I honestly don’t remember what we did read... we watched Boys Don’t Cry, which is all I remember about the class.
This is an epistolary novel, so it’s not exactly plot driven. Basically, it’s about a young, dithyrambic poet that is desperate to take a mistress and fall in love. Of course he has an impossibly long list of requirements and specifications for what he is looking for in a potential mate, the majority of which concern his shallow physical desires. Although d’Albert is a horny twenty-two year old, he’s not willing to sacrifice the pursuit of his aesthetic ideals and just indiscriminately kick it with any reasonably attractive chick -- even though he’s kind of a male chauvinist that could care less about a woman’s personality, brains, or other non-physical attributes.In a hundred women scarcely one was passable. One had a moustache. One had a blue nose. Others had red streaks for eyebrows. One was not ill-looking, but had a blotchy face. Another was pretty, but her shoulders reached nearly to her ears. A third would have put Praxiteles to shame with her shapeliness and smooth curves, but she trundled along on feet that put you in mind of Turkish riding-stirrups. Another sported the most wonderful shoulders you’ve ever seen, but her hands had the shape and dimensions of those huge scarlet gloves you see on drapers‘ shop signs.... A woman who is not beautiful is so much uglier than a man who is not handsome!*
Eventually, d’Albert does take up with a woman, the beautiful young widow, Rosette. But she’s missing that certain something... and of course, once he fucks her, he starts to lose interest and she becomes a complete nuisance, and does that annoying thing that so many people do when they sense the object of their affection’s passion diminishing: become overbearing and cling. Everything changes once Theodore -- a love interest of Rosette’s -- arrives on the scene. Theodore kind of rocks d’Albert’s world, and possesses that je nais se quoi d’Albert had long been looking for. This development forces d’Albert to confront the fact that he has fallen in love with a man.
Of course, Theodore is not really a man, but is the Madameoiselle Madeleine de Maupin, for whom this novel is named. Having reached marriageable age, Madeleine decides she wants to find out what men are really like, and penetrate the phony charm and politeness of men when they are trying to court women, by impersonating one. Kind of amazing, right? Needless to say, she is shocked by the crude and loathsome behavior that occurs behind closed doors, and comes to regret her decision to disguise herself as a man in order to spy. But what’s done is done, and she finds she actually likes “being a man,” and likes being able to freely enjoy all the trappings of masculinity (e.g., swordplay, hunting, flirting with Rosette).
Even though I mentioned above that this isn’t terribly plot driven, I just spent three paragraphs recapping the plot... Oh well. I’m still feeling shell-shocked and dumb from reading War and War a couple of weeks ago. I’ll revise this review later on to include more analysis.
Gautier is famous for coining the phrase “art for art’s sake,” and penned a lengthy preface to this novel in which he decried utilitarianism and literary critics that try to impose meaning where there is none. Are we to believe that this is just a fluffy little story with no underlying significance? Gautier was commissioned to write this novel on Mademoiselle de Maupin, a historical figure known for cross-dressing and open bisexuality. I kind of took this book to mean that sometimes sexuality is fluid and that for some, gender is an illusion constructed by society. It seems that he wrote that preface because he didn’t want these thoughts to be ascribed to him personally. (He rants at length about how erroneous it is for critics to insert the author into the story.) These are controversial ideas, to be sure, especially when this was published (1835). By the way, Gautier was twenty-four when he wrote this. TWENTY-FOUR. What was I doing when I was twenty-four? What am I doing at thirty-one? (Hint: Nothing of note.) Fuck the laziness endemic to the modern era.
*He was probably a Virgo, like me. I have little doubt that I will similarly nitpick my way into spinsterhood. -
There's no reason why I should hide it: I'm in love with Théophile Gautier. Nevermind what you think. For me, he's the greatest poet and author of the world!
I read, in French, Mademoiselle de Maupin years ago, I'll reread it as soon as possible. Why should you read it? because here's what Théophile said in his preface:
"There’s nothing in the world that goes faster than a virginity that runs away, and that an illusion that flies away. After all, there is perhaps no big trouble, and the science of all things might be preferable to the ignorance of all things? It’s a question that I leave to debate to more scholars than me. The fact remains that the world cannot pretend anymore being modest and virtuous, and I think it’s too old to be childish and virginal without making itself ridiculous."
OK, translation is mine, please forgive me Theo! -
This book is my first read of Gautier and it happens to be a beautiful meld of letters and essays interspersed with dialogs between the characters. Gautier has a penchant for detail and romanticism. The read is interesting in the beginning but as one progresses, Gautier in the garb of his protagonist waxes eloquently on exterior beauty of all things especially women.
The story takes up more depth once a little more than half the novel has been read and holds its spell till the very end, the ending is of course climactic and glorious in its own idealistic tenor which has been the motif right from the beginning of this novel. -
Initially I was surprised at how easy this was to read but I’m afraid eventually, I found my lids grow heavy and neck unable to support my head. Or is that 'head grew heavy and my sight grew dim' ensuring I had to stop for the night...?
A teenage (accurate in outlook - or more specifically mentality - if not in years) obsession with getting laid.
Well written it is, ahead of its time it maybe, but interesting it was not. -
I think I went into Mademoiselle de Maupin with ridiculously high expectations, and that can only lead to at least a little disappointment. This book wasn't fully what I expected, but it was an entertaining read overall and incredibly progressive for the time it was written (1835).
The novel is written in an epistolary format, and switches between three perspectives - the first is D'Albert, a man writing to his friend and feeling increasingly frustrated about his difficulty in finding a mistress who meets his ridiculous expectations of beauty. The second is Madeleine, a young woman (also writing to a friend) who decides to dress and pass as a man in order to infiltrate male spaces and work out how their minds work (with the expectation of finally understanding them and being comfortable enough to take one for a husband). The third is the least common, and is a generic third-person narrative.
D'Albert is the character we are with the most often, and he is a difficult character to read at times. Although Gautier's writing is undoubtedly funny, D'Albert's character was so ridiculous that he almost became a caricature. His writing is very much like his poetic tendencies - flowery, overwrought (which he does acknowledge himself), and rambling.
Madeleine (or Théodore as she is more commonly known throughout the novel), is a much more enjoyable character to read about - I was very happy to have more chapters from her perspective later on in the novel. Her story is one of adventure, excitement, and sex, and contains a lot of fantastic gender and sexuality discussions which would have been very scandalous at the time. GO GAUTIER!
This book wasn't without its problems. I found some sections (*cough*D'albert*cough*) incredibly hard to get to because they were about nothing in particular, just over-extended ramblings about beauty and art and how his life was going to shit and just...nah. That guy needed to get a grip on himself. Give me a whole novel about Madeleine/Théodore though and I'd be sold!
This is a great example of a classic LGBT novel, and one I am very happy was published. I may have enjoyed it more if my expectations had been a little less high (and I had had more spare time to spend longer periods just reading it), but overall it was an enjoyable and different read, and I would encourage anyone interested in LGBT fiction to pick it up. -
This novel is suffused with a refined naughtiness, which was accentuated by the fact I should have been writing a dry literature review this afternoon. Instead, I read the second, more salacious, half of 'Mademoiselle de Maupin'. This French capital-R Romantic novel is a wonderful comedy-drama of gender and sexuality, largely set in a country château in summer. It is mostly epistolary, making me wonder what the correspondents thought of the extravagant and shocking letters they received. I suppose their response is that of the reader?
After a preface that rails at moralising critics, Gautier begins the novel by giving the point of view to d'Albert. Like Kiyoaki in 'Spring Snow', here we have an idle aristocrat in love with the idea of beauty and love, utterly self-absorbed and distinctly directionless. (Is this the ideal of the Romantic Hero?) He writes lengthy letters to a friend named Silvio, describing the ideal mistress that he yearns for. He unselfconsciously expounds his misogynistic view of women as objects of beauty, lacking intellectual calibre and never equal to men. His letters are dense with classical allusions and hyperbole. After tiring of lazing about sighing, interspersed with the odd bit of hunting, d'Albert deigns to take a mistress named Rosette. She can't live up to his ideals of perfection, but nonetheless they have fun together. Including a hilarious-sounding amorous adventure during which he dresses up as a bear. D'Albert is convinced that Rosette loves him utterly.
This relatively stable arrangement is thrown into disarray when d'Albert and Rosette end up staying at a castle and encounter the dashing Théodore. At this point, the narrative shifts to Théodore's letters to a friend named Graciosa and we discover that he is actually a woman called Madeline. It emerges that the persona of Théodore was invented by Madeline so that she could learn what men were really like. She was horrified by what she found. This part of the book is the most serious and striking, as it rings so true even now. As Madeline discovers, there is a terrible double standard for male and female behaviour. When talking to each other, men are cruel and dismissive of women. Madeline remains Théodore, finding that she cannot bear to go back to the limitations of female existence. Gautier critiques the gender binary impressively thoroughly, considering he was writing in the early 19th century.
I found Théodore/Madeline to be a wonderfully sympathetic and appealing character. She gleefully overturns assumptions of gender and sexuality, throwing d'Albert into an agony of confusion that his letters made me think he richly deserved. Initially taking Théodore at face value, d'Albert comes to terms with the fact that his ideal of beauty is in fact male. Moreover, it emerges that Rosette has never been in love with him, but has only ever truly loved Théodore! After the château guests put on a performance of 'As You Like It', with all its cross-dressing and gender confusion, these passions finally come to a head. The ending is best described as satisfying.
The whole novel is very enjoyable, sensuous but ironic, deliberately subverting conventions. The eponymous hero/heroine was a real person, a bisexual singer who dressed as a man, fought duels, and apparently burned down a convent whilst in pursuit of a lover there. I'd love to read a biography of her, as Gautier gives us a glimpse of what are clearly only a few of her adventures. To the other characters, she remains an elusive, fascinating, and confusing object of adoration. I can very well see why. The reader cannot help but love her at least a little.
It's also worth noting that this edition includes an excellent introduction by Patricia Duncker, whose novels I've previously enjoyed. As is apparently always the case with classic novels, it absolutely vital not to read this introduction first, otherwise the plot will be spoiled. (I always avoid such introductions now, after having too many endings ruined.) It makes for an interesting read afterwards, though. -
Melodramatic, fanciful, fervent, excessive.
One of the best damn books I ever read.
"The great day having come, twenty-four criers on horseback, wearing the publisher's livery with his address on breast and back, bearing in their hands banners on both sides of which would be embroidered the title of the novel, and each proceeded by a tambourine and by kettledrums, should go through the streets of the city and, stopping in squares and at the crossings of streets, they should proclaim in a loud and intelligible voice: 'It is to-day, not yesterday or to-morrow, that is published the admirable, inimitable, divine and more than divine novel of the famous Théophile Gautier, 'Mademoiselle de Maupin', which Europe, and even the other parts of the world and Polynesia have been impatiently expecting for more than a year past. It is being sold at the rate of five hundred copies a minute, and new editions appear every half-hour. A picket of municipal guards is stationed at the shop door to keep back the crowd and prevent disorder in any shape." -
'I do not care much for teaching little simpletons to spell out the alphabet of love. I am neither old enough nor depraved enough for that; besides, I should succeed badly at it, for I never could show anybody anything, even what I knew best myself. I prefer women who read fluently, we arrive at the end of the chapter; and in everything, but especially in love, the end is what we have to consider. In this respect, I am rather like those people who begin a novel at the wrong end, read the catastrophe first of all, and then go backwards to the first page. This mode of reading and loving has its charm. Details are relished more when we are at peace concerning the end, and the inversion intrudes the unforeseen.'
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Mademoiselle de Maupin is a novel written by Théophile Gautier and published in two volumes, the first volume was published in November 1835 and the second in January 1836. Here is some of what I know about Gautier:
"Gautier began writing poetry as early as 1826, but the majority of his life was spent as a contributor to various journals, mainly La Presse, which also gave him the opportunity for foreign travel and for meeting many influential contacts in high society and in the world of the arts. Throughout his life, Gautier was well-traveled, taking trips to Spain, Italy, Russia, Egypt and Algeria. Gautier's many travels inspired many of his writings including Voyage en Espagne (1843), Trésors d’Art de la Russie (1858), and Voyage en Russie (1867). Gautier's travel literature is considered by many as being some of the best from the nineteenth century; often written in a personal style, it provides a window into Gautier's own tastes in art and culture.
Gautier was a celebrated abandonné (one who yields or abandons himself to something) of the Romantic Ballet, writing several scenarios, the most famous of which is Giselle, whose first interpreter, the ballerina Carlotta Grisi, was the great love of his life. She could not return his affection, so he married her sister Ernestina, a singer."
I have been wondering ever since I read that what his wife thought of her sister being the great love of his life. Since I can't imagine keeping it a secret that someone is the one great love of your life I can't imagine the sister didn't know it and I can't figure out why she married him. Anyway, aside from marrying the wrong sister, he wrote - a lot. He wrote almost 100 articles on the French revolution, and was a journalist for La Presse and later on at Le Moniteur universel. A few years later he was hired as an art and theatre columnist for La Presse. During his time at La Presse Gautier also contributed nearly 70 articles to Le Figaro. Oh, I am assuming these places are newspapers. What he did was equivalent to the modern book or theatre reviewer, but not just that, he was an art critic, a literary critic, a theatre critic and a dance critic. I'm not sure there is anything left to be a critic of. When he wasn't writing about other people's work he was writing his own, he wrote poetry, plays, short stories, and novels which gets me to the novel Maddemoiselle de Maupin. Well it almost gets me there.
The first thing I saw when I opened the book was the introduction which as usual I ignored, I never read introductions until I've finished the book and sometimes not even then. Skipping that took me to the preface. Most of the time I skip those too because the author sometimes says a little too much at times, Dickens did that a lot, I suppose he assumed his readers had already read the book in the weekly or monthly installments that had been published before the entire book was. Anyway, so I also skip prefaces, but I happened to glance at that first page and this caught my eye:
"It seems to me to be natural to prefer to her, especially when one is twenty years old, some little immorality, very pert, very coquettish, very wanton, with the hair a little out of curl, the skirt rather short than long, the foot and eye alluring, the cheek slightly flushed, a smile on the lips and the heart in the hand.—The most horribly virtuous journalists can hardly be of a different opinion; and, if they say the contrary, it is very probable that they do not think it. To think one thing and write another is something that happens every day, especially among virtuous folk."
I didn't even think about stopping after that but on I went. Here are some of the other things I came across in this very long, but very entertaining preface:
"Eh! Mon Dieu! my worthy preachers, what would you do without vice? You would be reduced to beggary to-morrow, if the world should become virtuous to-day.
The theatres would be closed to-night.—What would you take for the subject of your feuilleton?—No more Opéra balls to fill your columns,—no more novels to dissect; for balls, novels, plays, are the real pomps of Satan, if we are to believe our holy Mother Church.—The actress would dismiss her protector and could no longer pay you for puffing her.—Nobody would subscribe to your newspapers; people would read Saint Augustine, they would go to church, they would tell their beads. That would be very praiseworthy, perhaps, but you would gain nothing by it. If people were virtuous, what would you do with your articles on the immorality of the age? You see plainly that vice is good for something."
".An extremely interesting variety of the moral journalist, properly so-called, is the journalist with a female family.
In the first place, to pose as a journalist of this variety, you need some few preliminary utensils—such as two or three legitimate wives, a few mothers, as many sisters as possible, a full assortment of daughters, and cousins innumerable.—The second requisite is a play or novel of some sort, a pen, ink, paper, and a printer. Perhaps it would be as well to have an idea or two and several subscribers; but you can do without them, if you have a large stock of philosophy and the shareholders' money....
...After the literature of blood, the literature of mud; after the morgue and the galleys, the alcove and the brothel; after the rags stained by murder, the rags stained by debauchery; after," etc. (according to the necessity of the occasion and the available space, you can continue in this vein from six lines to fifty or more),—"this is as it should be.—This is where neglect of sacred doctrines and romantic licentiousness lead: the stage has become a school of prostitution where one dares not venture, save with fear and trembling, with a woman one respects. You come upon the faith of an illustrious name, and you are obliged to retire at the third act with your young daughter all confused and abashed. Your wife hides her blushes behind her fan; your sister, your cousin," etc. (The degrees of relationship may be diversified at pleasure; it is enough that they be all females.)"
"The prisons are full of honest people who haven't done a quarter of the things they do."
"They found the dagger outrageous, the poison monstrous, the axe unspeakable. They would have liked dramatic heroes to live to the age of Methuselah; and yet it has been recognized since time immemorial, that the aim of all tragedy is to bump off in the last scene some poor devil of a great man at the end of his tether, just as the aim of all comedy is to join together in matrimony the two idiotic young stars, who are both around sixty."
"The spiritual usefulness is that while reading novels you are asleep and not reading useful moral and progressive journals, or other such indigestible and stupefying drugs."
I'm glad I read this book just for the hilarious preface. Now on to the story. Which doesn't start well - when I'm doing the reading anyway. The first line is:
"You complain, my dear friend, of the infrequency of my letters.—What would you have me write you except that I am well and that my affection for you never changes?—Those are facts that you know perfectly well, and that are so natural to my age and to the noble qualities that every one recognizes in you, that it is almost absurd to send a paltry sheet of paper a hundred leagues to say nothing more.—"
See? Did you read that the same way I did? Our main character Chevalier d'Albert has nothing to say, nothing very interesting or surprising has happened in his life, he is in good health, everything is fine, the end. A very short letter. However, as he wrote this small little paragraph he seemed to think of other things to say because while his short letter began on page 1 it didn't end until page 15. I cannot imagine writing a 15 page letter, and I suppose in actual long hand writing it would have taken up a lot more pages than that, I also cannot imagine any of my family or friends I sent this to reading it. To sum up this letter, he gets up every day, eats every day, and goes to bed that night. Oh he does a little fencing and reading in there too. During this speech he manages to tell his friend that "this is not particulary interesting, and scarcely worth the paper it is written on." True, however he goes on to say that he is obliged to tell his friend all his thoughts and feelings and give an account of every event he ever had in his life. I'm not sure why.
Now d'Albert begins something I've always been annoyed by, he goes into a narrative of when he and his friend met and how long and why they are friends. They were brought up together, stuff like that - no kidding, his friend probably already knows all this, and if he doesn't he has some sort of memory problem. Now I come to this dreadful part:
"I can share with you all the nonsense that comes into my empty head. I have no shame where you are concerned, and I won't put anything in or leave anything out. So I shall tell you the unadulterated truth, even the petty, embarrassing details. I shall certainly not try to hide anything from you."
Rest assured all you out there who know me, many, many things happen to me in a year, month, day, and hour and you never have to worry about me telling you every little detail of it. Anyway, he's nervous, and bored, and doesn't want to miss anything so he spends his time going downstairs unkempt, untidy and with a wild and hunted look. He has an unsteady gait, he roams the streets like a dog, all kinds of stuff like that, why? I don't know. But we finally find out that he wants a mistress, and that's what the rest of the book is about, kind of. He asks every time he comes home from fencing or wandering or whatever he's doing, if he has any letters from his mistress that he doesn't yet have, and looks behind every door of his apartment looking for the mistress he doesn't yet have. He doesn't have this mistress yet, but he knows just what she will be like:
"She is twenty-six years old—no more, neither less nor more.—She is not ignorant and she has not yet become blasé. - She must be just tall enough to put her mouth to mine for a kiss by standing on tiptoe. - she is rather plump than thin - her flesh hard and firm as the pulp of an almost ripe peach - She is a blonde with black eyes, - the fair skin of a blonde and the rich coloring of a brunette, something red and sparkling in her smile. - The lower lip a little thick, the pupil of the eye swimming in a sea of aqueous humor, the throat well-rounded and small, the wrists slender, the hands long and plump, the gait undulating like a snake rearing on its tail, the hips full and flexible, the shoulders broad, the back of the neck covered with down;—a refined and yet healthy style of beauty, animated and graceful, poetic and human; a sketch by Giorgione executed by Rubens."
Did you get all that? Let me know if you find her. It goes on for quite a lot of the 15 pages, he knows what she will be wearing when they meet, where they meet, (although since he knows where they will meet I'm not sure why he is looking for her behind doors), what jewelry she will have on, oh as to the dress, it will be made of proper velvet or brocade, he couldn't allow satin. Anyway, finally the chapter ends with him telling his friend that he is going to find his mistress and will not return until he finds her.
The second chapter is either a brand new rambling letter or a continuation of the first, I can't quite remember, but either way, the letter gets longer and longer. We hear all about the women d'Albert has met, talked to and rejected since then, I don't have the energy to get into it all but by the end of the chapter he has his mistress possibilities narrowed down to two women and we're on to the next chapter.
Well d'Albert has a mistress, it's the lady in pink - he met her in the last chapter, she was one of the two finalists - he now has a position of some responsibility, which establishes him in society. He says so anyway. He loves Rosette (that's the name he gives her), she loves him, she is wonderful, he is wonderful, everything is wonderful. That is until they are together about five months or so when he decides he is not in love with her and knows that he can't tell her that or find a new mistress because she would be devastated. I wasn't so sure of that even before Théodore de Sérannes entered the book. I was more interested when Théodore joined in because then there was - every now and then anyway - a bit of time that wasn't totally centered on d'Albert, there were even a few sections he wasn't in the story at all! Even the long letters, no we can never escape from those, are written by someone else. Now I am not going to tell you things like, who Théodore is, who is in love with who, and the big secret that doesn't seem so secret to me. I will share a few quotes that stayed with me and then I'll be done.
"Three things I like: gold, marble, crimson; brilliance, solidity, colour." That one seemed like six things not three for a long, long time.
"Many things are bores: it is a bore to return the money you have borrowed and have become accustomed to look upon as your own; it is a bore to-day to caress the woman you loved yesterday; it is a bore to call at a friend's house about dinner-time and find that the master and mistress have been in the country a month; it is a bore to write a novel and even more so to read one; it is a bore to have a pimple on your nose and chapped lips on the day you go to call on the idol of your heart; it is a bore to have to wear jocose boots that smile at the pavement through all their seams, and above all things to have an empty void behind the spider's web in your pocket; it is a bore to be a concierge; it is a bore to be an emperor; it is a bore to be one's self or even to be somebody else; it is a bore to go on foot because it hurts your corns, to ride because it rubs the skin off the antithesis of your front, to drive because some fat man inevitably makes a pillow of your shoulder, or to travel on a packet-boat because you are seasick and turn yourself inside out;—it is a bore to live in winter because you shiver and in summer because you perspire; but the greatest bore on earth, in hell, or in heaven, is beyond all question a tragedy, unless it be a melodrama or a comedy."
I would have given the story two stars and the preface four stars, but there are illustrations and I love illustrations, so between illustrations and the preface I will give the book 3 1/2 stars, at least I would if they would let me. Oh, there really was a Mademoiselle de Maupin, which I found interesting and she is the reason the book was written in the first place. I wonder if the lady in pink was wearing satin. I'll have to look it up. -
This book is a masterpiece. I couldn't put it down. The plot development is legendary, and as the novel progressed I found it harder and harder to put it down! It chronicles the tale of a young man who is finding it hard to meet the love of his dreams, so to cure his ennui, he begins a liaison with Rosette. But one day, Rosette has a guest, Theodore, with whom the protagonist of the novel immediately falls in love with. However, Theodore is harboring a secret that'll make for the most interesting read the reader has ever known! The conclusion left me speechless. I found it to be one of my favorite books by far.
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Over the summer I haven't been reading many books that I'm deeply in love with, which is a shame because I love reading and not feeling hyped about my books on the go is such a pity. So I put down the others and picked up this one again. I'd gotten over half-way through it at two different airports at two very different times of the year. Thesis-writing and travel interrupted this book quite unfairly, despite the fact I'd loved reading it whenever it was in my hands.
I should have read it much earlier. I can imagine what my response to it would be in high school (might not have laughed at D'Albert in the way he deserves, but god I would have appreciated the aesthetics, the beauty, and Madeleine de Maupin herself). This is a perfect artistic text, perfectly decadent, and I wrote so much around it in the course of my thesis without having read it first hand. But I'd always known I'd love it and am not sure why I put it off so long.
I picked it up again at the beginning of the play. I read out D'Albert's vivid description of his ideal stage setting to my mom & step-dad while lying on the beach. And
As You Like It being the play of choice only struck me further, as it was the first Shakespeare play that I really read and, I believe, the first book that I picked up from my high school library. It's gender politics make it a perfect choice for this book, and made the whole novel feel so personal to me. I think that was the real takeaway, that this book felt personal, felt written to me, felt like all that I want and look for. -
I love this novel, even if I must admit that it is not a very good one. It is part epistolary, and part narrative, but the greater part of it is taken up by the voice of the self-pitying, antisocial, misogynistic misandrist who is the chevalier d'Albert; while his ideas on women and the world may be exasperatingly cynical, as a poet not entirely unlike the figure of Baudelaire he expresses interesting ideas on human nature and art. Ideas, rather than a plot or interesting characters, are what make up this book, which explores gender and sexuality in a way far more open-minded than one would expect from an author writing in 1835. The eponymous heroine, Madeleine de Maupin, is the star of the show, for all that d'Albert may have the microphone – her life has a plot to it, as she evolves from girlish ingénue to bold adventurer, seducing women and being forced to question her own sexuality along the way. Unfortunately, no answers to her dilemma are given and she merely comes to represent an elusive ideal, as, unable to articulate her desires with reality (or unable to conceive them – to love a woman and be loved as a woman – as reality) she vanishes in a puff of smoke. This novel is something of a lyrical, erotic essay on ideals, but what I like most in it is an exciting story which has much more potential than Gautier explores here.
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I read this novel due to a curiosity of the historical figure whom the novel is named after. I'm not sure I would have read it, had I known more about it.
It's really not my type of novel. The prose are overtly poetic, and that's just not generally my cup of tea. However, this novel impressed me.
I was sucked in from the beginning with the Preface which had lots of insightful observations, primarily into the relationship of the artist and the critic and the worth of art and beauty.
Next, I was forced into the mind of a chauvinistic poet, who is looking for the perfect woman. His definition of that person consisting of only physical characteristics.
Finally we got to Julie d'Aubigny. Her parts really made the book. Her exploration of gender roles, and her refusal to accept that she has to be simply male or female made me finish the latter half of the novel much more quickly than the former.
Overall, it's a great book. It didn't really satisfy my historical curiosity about Julie d'Aubigny, but it was a very interesting take on what her mindset may have been like. I could have done with a good deal less about the poet and a good deal more about her. That's the only reason this novel didn't warrant a five star review. -
My second Gautier book and a second triumph. Gautier has a very verbose style and never uses one metaphor when 8 will do, however his writing is so lyrical and poetic that it rarely seems too long.
They say people today have a warped view of the opposite sex due to film, porn, celebrity magazines etc. but evidently this is not so modern a problem, as our male 19th century hero is the same and all he had to work with was poetry and oil paintings, he despairs of ever finding a woman who meets his fantastic ideal. Our heroine on the other hand is determined to truly understand men before giving herself to one.
This is a romance i guess, although one of those very realistic ones something along the lines of '500 Days of Summer' . It has really interesting things to say about sexuality aswell, which again makes it seem quite modern.
Overall this is a beautifully written, funny, interesting and remarkably... human story (for want of a better description :) ).
Note: Some prior knowledge of Shakespeare's 'As You Like It' might be beneficial. -
MADEMOISELLE DE MAUPIN is one of my absolute favorite books. I adore Gautiers writing style- it is so enchnanting. Sometimes the Beauty of his words gave me the Feeling of reading a Poem. Gautier was a magician of words- even Hesse appreciateed Gautier. He thought his novels were virtuoso extravaganza- truly enchanting. What is there to add? Exept a recommendation to read this treasure of prose.
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50p of aesthetic manifesto, 100p of romanticist rambling, 50p of shakespeare crit, and 100p of lgbt. p much eberythimg i want
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Theodore (aka, Mademoiselle de Maupin) is one of the most refreshingly unsentimental yet elusive characters in literature (based on the real life Mademoiselle, who was a swashbuckling opera singer! well, cor blimey gov'nor, they don't make them like they used to...) but we do have to put up with much existential moaning from D'Albert for the better part of the book. That being said, the novel is a very insightful essay on gender. I'd have given it 5 stars if it focused on Theodore and not on D'Albert (even though it's understandable, seeing as how the author is male; D'Albert is a mixture of loftiness of spirit and exasperatingly whinging aristo attitudes. The most interesting thing about him is his view on beauty, which manages to rather successfully combine classical and romantic ideals into something else altogether and is the essential backdrop for the musings on gender). Well worth reading, although it could have benefited from some editing (my tolerance for descriptive passages focusing on tree-lined alleys and very precise daydreams about the ideal woman is lesser than I thought).
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"I have very little of the woman, except her breast,a few rounder lines, and more delicate hands; the skirt is on my hips, and not in my disposition. It often happens that the sex of the soul does not at all correspond with that of the body [...] if I had not taken this resolution -mad in appearence, but in reality very wise- and renounced the garnaments of a sex which is mine only materially and accidentally I should have been very unhappy."
It was the 19th century when these words were written and caused a scandal. Imagine how would react the most part of people reading these same words written by a modern author: they would be scandalous again. A great book to have a look on the past and understand how our so called modern society is not modern at all and that homosexuality and transgenderism is not a symptom of a contemporary currupted society but an hurge in human being since the idea of the individual right to happiness has born. -
What a deeply weird novel. Full of some pretty progressive and explicit themes of sexuality and gender, particularly for a book written in the 1830s. Gautier gets really verbose and digressive throughout though, and while i found the translator's introductory notes to be interesting and helpful in terms of her thoughts on his experimental form/structure/style, i also found long stretches of it boring as hell, which is saying a lot for a book in which everybody has a bunch of sex and over half the characters question their own sexuality and gender.
Glad i read it, but i wouldn't recommend it unless you are a.) researching 19th century sexuality/gender in France or b.) thirteen, horny, and willing to skip all the blather to get to the sex parts. -
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„Gospođica de Mopen“ - djelo kao savršen odraz svog autora, zakletog zaljubljenika u lijepo, koji bi se prije lišio krompira nego ruže; stvaraoca koji živi u svijetu umjetnosti jer je to jedini svijet koji priznaje. Umjetnost koja je sama sebi dovoljna - l’art pour l’art.
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This book is as fresh and as youthful as the day it was published. It still has the power to initiate discussion. It will alter the way you look at your life.
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This book is about love, beauty and passion. It is beautifully written in poetic prose from the perspectives of d'Albert, Théodore and the writer himself in the form of letters.
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only gets sapphic at the very end, and that subtly, but it's worth it
