Rogues Gallery Uncovered
Bad behaviour in period costume
non-judgmentally peeling back the scandalous lives of history’s greatest libertines Lotharios and complete bastards.
This episode definitely contains some very adult themes and some very very colourful language so discretion is advised - this is not one for the school run.
Wank like an Egyptian
With Gustave Flaubert
In which the self-pleasuring author of madame Bovary samples the delights and the diseases of the mysterious east.
Its important to mention that all of the descriptions and anecdotes in this episode come from Flauberts own journals- a link to which ill leave in the show notes.
These are his recollections and thoughts.
You might regard this tale as a damming condemnation of colonialism and 19th century misogyny, or you may enjoy it as simply a colourful tale of a wank happy Frenchman who became a famous writer.
I’m not fussed either way.
Owing to the emotive subject matter however it is particularly important that I remind you of the following
The following tale is written in the present tense of the period in which its set…. and as such, may contain attitudes and opinions of the protagonists and their times which would today be considered unacceptable.
As im NOT a morally and hygienically questionable 19th century French author living during an age of empire.
Those attitudes and opinions are OBVIOUSLY …I repeat OBVIOUSLY not mine
FRANCE 1851
Gustave Flaubert stares out of the window into the rain-soaked haze of a Normandy evening and casts his mind back to the baking hot exotica of the Egyptian desert from which he has so recently returned.
The history, the culture, the bathhouses, the dancing girls, the prostitutes…..
His mind whirling with arousing images, he decides to take a break from plotting his latest work, tentatively titled Madame Bovary and have a quick wank.
As he fumbles with his trousers, Flaubert considers just how much the needs of his penis have influenced both his writing and his travels.
A committed masturbator in his youth, Flaubert had forsworn self-pollution at the age of twenty two and had even given up visiting prostitutes – a pastime of which he was particularly fond
“It may be a perverted taste” he was to say “but I love prostitution. One learns so many things in a brothel.”
The pleasures of the flesh however were, he thought, a distraction to the creative mind and he decided a life of celibate contemplation would unlock the masterpiece within.
Obviously, it couldn’t last.
On a visit to Italy he stood in awe before BROOG H’ALL Bruegel’s “Temptation of Saint Anthony”, considering the story of a pious man resisting the filthy blandishments of the devil to be very close to his heart.
Inspired, Flaubert began work on a novel that took the subject of the painting as its theme. It also took four long frustrating years to complete during which time he found his hands straying to his crotch when things became stressful.
In a particularly candid letter to a friend he wrote;
“There are moments when my head bursts with the bloody pains I’m taking over this. Out of sheer frustration I jerked off yesterday, feeling the same bleakness that drove me to masturbate at school, when I sat in detention. The ejaculate soiled my pants, which made me laugh, and I washed it off. Ah! I’m quite sure Monsieur ScrEEbe never stooped so low.”
Finally, after much hard and draining work, his manuscript was complete, and he invited his two closest friends Louis Bouilhet[1] and Maxime du Camp[2] to his home for a reading.
He instructed the pair to give him an honest, unbiased opinion, “If you don’t howl with pleasure at this, you’re incapable of being moved by anything!” he confidently laughed.
As he read the novel however it soon became apparent to those listening that it was, at best, complete shit.
The hours dragged painfully by, and the two friends tried hard to find something positive in Flaubert’s tedious and often incomprehensible prose.
As he finished the final page Flaubert looked up expectantly at the two people whose opinions he trusted more than anyone in the world - expecting the fruit of four long and tortuous years to be heartily applauded.
Bouilhet spoke first “We think you should throw it into the fire and never speak of it again.”
Fearing that his friend might spiral into a bleak pit of existential despair, du Camp suggested that the two of them embark on an extended journey to the Orient.
Fascinated by the mysterious east, Flaubert agreed and in 1849 the twenty seven year-old, would be author, set out on a once in a lifetime experience.
The prospect of such a perilous adventure however filled him with great anxiety and by the time the two men arrived in Paris to procure the necessary travel documents, Flaubert was a bundle of nerves.
He chose to relieve his inner tension by embarking on a two-day orgy of rich food, booze and prostitutes.
After that, when du Camp asked him if he would actually rather stay behind Flaubert gave an emphatic if weary “non.”
It took eleven choppy days to sail to Alexandria – Flaubert spent most of his time gazing wistfully out to sea while all around his companions staggered and vomited at his feet.
Disembarking at the bustling cacophony of the port, du Camp took a cursory look around before announcing that the sight of a bare breasted African woman drawing water from a fountain had given him a powerful errection.
Flaubert was exasperated “He is equally excited by boys” he wrote “By whom is he not excited or rather by what?”
When not exploring the tightly packed streets or ingratiating himself with French colonial society, Flaubert sheltered from the heat in the cool of his hotel room, has right hand busy - scribbling letters home.
Making their way up the Nile to Cairo, Flaubert was amused to meet a lad of about seven years old whose younger sisters were amusing themselves by making farting noises with their hands. “If you’ll give me five paras I’ll bring you my mother to fuck” the lad smiled.
Although Flaubert declined the offer, the young fellow still bade him a courteous farewell “I wish you all kinds of prosperity “he called after him “Especially a long prick.”
Whatever its length, Flaubert penis was becoming increasingly demanding and was not to be denied. A few night later Flaubert crept up to a backstreet brothel, which was far less salubrious than the kind of establishment he had been used to.
The divan on which he was to perform stuck out from the side of the building and was surrounded by an open wooden frame to prevent its occupants falling into the street.
Although music and dancing were forbidden by law, one of the ladies beat out a simple rhythm on the table while the other undulated her hips in a traditional dance.
As an eager Flaubert and his whore retired to the divan, he had to shoo away a family of cats who were snuggling in its folds.
Writing to his friend, Flaubert was quite complimentary about the sex, commenting on how unusual it was to couple with a woman with whom you could not converse and waxing lyrical about her “Splendid arse.”
In is personal journal however he likened the experience to consorting with a “plague victim in a leper house”
Flaubert’s mood though was definitely lightened by the antics of the locals – one colourful fellow he recalled, mounted his woman on the counter of a stall in the Bazar, while the stall holder calmly smoked his pipe.
He also remembered how, just for a laugh; another chap allowed himself to be buggered by a monkey.
Flaubert was particularly impressed by a wandering madman who walked around naked save for one hat on his head and another on his prick. Sterile women prostrated themselves before him while he doffed his penis hat and pissed all over them.
Much of the next few weeks were spent exploring the city, taking trips out to see the pyramids and marvelling at the Sphinx, still partially buried in the desert sands.
Around the hotel dinner table, Flaubert wrote that one of the most popular topics of conversation was whether you had visited a bath house and sodomized one of the young attendants there.
Flaubert wrote that often, firm denials gradually changed to begrudging admittance as the wine flowed.
The author decided to see what all the fuss was about and found the relaxed atmosphere of the Hammam very conducive to contemplation. Unfortunately the bath attendant who took the opportunity to start pleasuring him while he washed Flaubert’s balls was an old fellow in his fifties, which gave the author the giggles and spoiled the mood.
Flaubert made a mental note to return to the bath house and enjoy a more aesthetically pleasing attendant at a later date “In the name of research.”
As the days passed by however, he became listless and bored.
Hoping to reignite his passion, Flaubert’s party sailed further up the Nile. Noticing that the crew of their boat were all missing the index finger on their right hands, he was interested to learn that this was a precaution against being drafted for military service.
When the boat reached the small town of Esneh ESNER there was great excitement as this was where all of Cairo’s high-class prostitutes had been exiled by order of Egypt’s ruler Abbas-Pasha[3]. Within half an hour, a woman messenger - leading a velvet muzzled sheep on a leash - invited them to meet the legendary courtesan Kuchuk-Hanem.
They eagerly accepted and before long stood in the courtyard of her house, gazing up at this famous beauty who had just stepped out of her bath and was regarding them haughtily from the top of some stairs. Flaubert described her as “An imperial brute, big titted and meaty with magnificent knees.” He also noted that she had a religious verse tattooed along her right arm and that her breasts smelt of turpentine.
She invited them in for dancing and refreshment but an impatient Du Camp insisted that they immediately go and have sex. When he returned, Flaubert scurried to take his place.
Afterwards, the duo enjoyed the promised dancing and coffee. Kuchuk-Hanem accompanied them back to the boat, jumping on their backs and pulling faces like- Flaubert observed- “A proper Catholic tart”
That evening, wearing swords and their Sunday best, they were back at the house again and this time Flaubert took his pleasure with a young woman named “Little Sophie.” Who he found so “corrupt, writhing and voluptuous” that he accidently stained the divan upon which they were lying.
After enjoying some Raki and the obligatory traditional music, Flaubert headed back to the stained divan this time with Kuchuk-Hanem herself, “Her cunt felt like rolls of velvet as she made me come” he wrote in a letter home, “I felt like a tiger”.
Afterwards, he insisted she perform an erotic dance known as “The Bee” at the frenzied conclusion of which she was naked and bending double in order to pick up a coffee cup with her teeth.
Flaubert spent the night lying next to KOO SHOOOK- HANEM Kuchuk-Hanem - despite her reservations that his overnight presence would attract thieves - and while she snored, he squashed bed bugs and pondered on the nature of romance.
They coupled twice more before morning, at one-point indulging in “Ferocious” cunnilingus. In one of the letters he didn’t write to his mother, Flaubert’s memories of that day were that “I came five times and sucked three, and let me add that I enjoyed it.”
A wistful Flaubert took his leave and the party moved on down the Nile. It was an uneventful leg of the journey except when some naked monks swam out to the boat begging for alms - one of the crewmen performed an offensive comic mime in their faces while the rest of the sailors shouted obscenities and lashed out at the holy men with sticks.
Amidst all the shipboard hilarity however, the author was troubled “When the brain sinks the prick rises” he wrote “I am growing lewd.”
At Kena, he resisted the pleading arms and filthy suggestions of the street prostitutes for as long as he could as he found their expressions of devotion to him to be affecting.
Ultimately however he found himself a plump whore, on top of whom, he enjoyed himself “immensely” although, he wrote disgustedly, she smelt “like rancid butter.”
For the next few months Flaubert, was too busy marvelling at the temples of Karnak, Luxor and Thebes to devote any time to carnal pursuits. He did however finally come up with a name for the heroine of his new novel as he stood on a mountaintop overlooking Wadi Halfa.
“Eureka!” he cried to the world “I’m going to call her Emma Bovary!'
The riverboat made its way back up the Nile in the direction of home and a nostalgic Flaubert made a return visit to Kuchuk-Hanem.
Without her makeup and recovering from a recent illness, he found her sadly to be not quite as intriguing as before. His orgasm – the only one during his time there – was strangely unsatisfying.
From Alexandria the homeward bound travellers made their way to Beirut where they spent longer than they had planned because of a gregarious painter by the name of Camille Rogier.
A self-styled connoisseur of debauchery, Rogier was well known for challenging all the European gentleman who visited the city to a competition to see who had the biggest cock.
Under his influence Flaubert recalled a supper party during which he “screwed three woman and came four times..three times after dinner and once after dessert”…”I am” he added “becoming a pig.”
Although his habit of washing his crotch in public left even the experienced prostitutes infuriated, Flaubert’s attempts at sexual hygiene failed miserably. By the time they reached Constantinople he had a breath-taking dose of the pox, was wrapping himself daily in mercury bandages and was beginning to lose his hair.
He and Du Camp took to standing with their trousers round their ankles comparing the terrible state of their respective tools and commenting on the progress of their treatment.
Flaubert’s ailment however didn’t stop him visiting a brothel in the city’s Galata district where, after he threatened to storm out because the women were so ugly, the madam offered him her sixteen year-old daughter.
After some petting, the daughter asked to see his penis to check that it was clean. Knowing that his member looked like a slab of rotten meat, Flaubert haughtily exclaimed that he had never been so insulted in his life and left with his dignity intact.
He then proceeded to pass on his unsavoury condition to not so cautious prostitutes in Greece and Italy before finally arriving back home in France.
Among the many souvenirs of his epic journey were an embalmed crocodile, some hashish, loose teeth, a troublesome testicle and a lifelong mercury habit.
His nostalgic wank complete, Flaubert goes on to write one of the masterpieces of nineteenth century literature.
Occasionally he will pause and wonder “Shall I ever return to Egypt”
No.
It took Flaubert over four years to complete his masterpiece – we can have a rough guess at what he was doing for some of that time.
Most of the reason for the long wait however came from Flaubert being an extreme perfectionist.
It took him three months to write a single scene and he would often shout out phases repeatedly just to make sure he had the structure exactly as he wanted it.
"A good prose sentence should be like a good-line of poetry “ he wrote “unchangeable, just as rhythmic, just as sonorous."
Even altering a single word, he believed could have a damaging impact on several subsequent pages.
He resumed his relationship with his mistress Louise Colet and would write passionate letters to her in which he compared a night writing to night of having enthusiastic sex.
"I wish to gorge you with all the joys of flesh," he writes, "until you faint and die. I want you to be astonished by me, to confess to yourself that you had never even dream of such transports."
He was less than enthusiastic however when she offered to meet him at a hotel room in Paris.
Instead of jumping on the first train he instead quizzed her about the motivation behind one of his characters and retreated back into the world of Bovary.
He was more committed the he fictional woman in his life than the real one.
When the book finally saw publication, it caused a sensation.
Flaubert was taken to court for “offenses against public morality and religion.”
It was said the novel was critical of the church and portrayed an adulterous woman in a positive light. There were also a few saucy scenes particularly one in a forest and another in a moving coach that got the moralists up in arms.
Fortunately for Flaubert he engaged a brilliant defence lawyer who counted the argument by saying that the story was in fact a cautionary tale about such behaviour and that only through experiencing vice and its effects ( in real or literary form) can one learn about it and avoid it.
He said that other famous French authors and foreigners like Shakespeare and Goethe GERR TER
Had used a similar approach.
Flaubert was acquitted and by the time of death aged 58 he was regarded as a genius.
His wikli page says he influenced kafka, Nabokov sartre and Zola among others and who am I to argue with that.
As for his sex tourism and all that went with it, you can certainly say that he was a man of his time – and attitudes were very different nearly 200 years ago - but there were probably a lot of people even than who would have found his behaviour pretty strange and repellent.
Bizarrely some would have found the masturbation more morally objectionable that the exploitation of the people he met on his journey – but the nineteenth century view of self-pleasure in the subject for another episode – it’s actually already been written.
If you want to give Madame Bovary a read, there’s a link to it – along with one to an account of Flaubert’s Egyptian experiences in the show notes
Some might say that the book should no longer be read but the question of Whether you should boycott or censure art because of the actions of the artist is another can of worms that I will be going no where near.
My answer would be “no”
Right …time for a wank
Next time on Rogues Gallery Uncovered
YOU DIRTY DIRTY RAT
Inventing las vegas, charming the dames and shooting people who crossed him.
Its just business with the 1930s most glamorous gangster Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel
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Last week I asked if you felt like dropping me a line to suggest rogues that you would like to hear featured then I would love to hear from you.
Among those who did ,a disreputable shout out to James who suggested Julie d'Aubigny. The bisexual fencing opera singer who apparently orchestrated a heist to rescue her lover from a convent.
She sounds right up my roguish street
And Chris, a fellow brit living in Chicago who asked if I was featuring any 20th century rogues – oh yes Chris there are plenty in the pipeline.
If you want to get in touch you’ll find me on twitter, Instagram Facebook and of course roguesgalleryuncovered.com
That’s all for now stay roguish and ill see you yesterday