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glenncolerussell 's review for:
Mademoiselle de Maupin
by Théophile Gautier
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.
