The Most Bohemian Bohemian

"The Most Bohemian Bohemian" is Part 3 of "Bohemianism," a podcast series from theparisproject.net.  A countdown from 10 to 1 of the most colorful and influential Bohemians from la Bohème Galante, the first generations of Bohemians in Paris. 

This podcast was created by Roger Mummert for www.theparisproject.net.

Transcript

The Most Bohemian Bohemian

Tough task: Review the entire cornucopia of Parisian Bohemians and determine “le plus grand Bohemian,” the most Bohemian of them all. For simplicity, we’ll restrict the search to the first generation or two of Parisian Bohemians. The remainder are entered in the Bohemian Hall of Fame on theparisproject.net. Cooperstown has the Baseball Hall of Fame. Cleveland has its Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame. The Paris Project has this.

Here is the countdown from 10 to 1 for the most Bohemian Bohemian.   

Number 10

Gerard de Nerval (1808-1865) Any consideration for the Ur Bohemian has to include de Nerval—though his greater recognition is for his writing. His best known book was “Les Filles de Feu” (1854), and his story “Sylvie” influenced many writers who followed. 

De Nerval’s life was, indeed, textbook Bohemian. He had perhaps the most fiery and dramatic life of all of la Bohème Gallant. This shows in his work, which  is filled with fantasies, dreams, symbols, revelations and madness. He was said to have lived…half in life, half in dreams. When friends spoke to him on the street; he didn’t notice them, so immersed was he in reverie. In the early days of la Bohème, he organized the infamous fancy dress ball party at l’Impasse du Doyenné. Throughout his gloomy life he nurtured an his abiding love for actress Jennie Colon, to whom he never professed his love. However, his life was darkened by mental illness, He had a series of breakdowns, and it all ended in a dramatic suicide: He hung himself from a lamppost in rue de la Vielle Lantern. For his comrades in la Bohème, it was the tragic day, the day the pen dropped from the hand. After his death, de Nerval was a great influence on Proust, Breton and surrealism, and he is widely read and studied to this day.

Number 9 

Charles Lassailly (1806-1843) He may have been the most romantic Bohemian; his life was notable for his great unrequited love. 

He was born in Orleans, raised to be priest. He arrived in Paris in 1829 at age 23. It was said he had a nose like Cyrano, and he wore bizarre clothes and comported himself in an eccentric manner.

Lassailly lived his life as a famished, destitute poet. When he went to bed, he blew dust off a skull and hoped for nightmares. He must have had some: His 1833 novel  “Les Roueries de Trialph” is filled with murders, suicide, fantastical events. 

Balzac approached him to write some work he had under contract. The elder writer whisked Lassailly away to his house, filled him with coffee and food and kept him captive for a week, forcing him to write—for Balzac—continuously. 

Famously, Lassailly suffered unrequited love, though he might have regarded it as ecstasy. In 1836, when he was 30, the carriage of Comtesse de Magnencourt passed him in the bois. She smiled at him. He fell deeply in love with her and remained so until his death at age 37, though he never once spoke to her.

Lassailly wrote her letters and left them in a hole in a tree by her summer house. Once she responded. She left him a pansy with a dewdrop (Ah, her tear, he thought). His family and friends took him to an asylum. Said his sister: “He cannot write when he is well. Illness is the lamp that lights up his mind.” 

In 1840, he declared that religion had brought him back from madness. But not to health. In 1843 he was on deathbed, still pining for the Comtesse who after all was married, not of his social station and didn’t even know him. A friend arranged for the Comtesse to visit him; she allowed him to kiss her hand. He died next day. That’s Bohemian. 

Number 8 

Arsènne Houssaye (1815-1896) is a complicated choice: He surely lived in Bohemia; he was there almost from the beginning. Houssaye arrived in in Paris 1832. At just 17 years of age, he was nicknamed l'enfant de Bohème. His poem “Vignt Ans” (20 Years) was a glorification of youth. But he left Bohemia, indeed, he prospered in many pursuits, including writing, the theater, art. He deserves the Bohemian Hall of Fame, in no small part, because he was one of the best chroniclers of the remarkable early days of Bohemia.

Number 7 

Charles Barbara (1817-1866) surely had the Bohemian look. He was said to have had burning eyes like a sphinx guarding treasure. Henri Murger said he “fed on the marrow of lions” and based the character of Barbemouche on him in “Scenes de la Vie de Boheme.” He lived in a darkened garret, never inviting anyone over. He suffered melancholia and in the end threw himself out a window. Baudelaire admired his work.

Number 6 

Théophile Gautier (1811-1872) was an essential original Bohemian, with a considerable body of work. He was a Romantic first, then contributed to the creation of Parnassianism in adoration of Greek mythology. Plus, he was friends with established writers, some of who were voted into the Academy. So, as for living in rejection of bourgeois society, not so much. Gautier met de Nerval when they were teens and they remained lifelong friends. As a Bohemian, he was known for his scarlet waistcoat. He wrote poetry from early on (publishing a collection of poems at 20), but most of his career was as a journalist and critic. He was handsome and regal and said to have had many lovers. 

Number 5 

Alphonse Kerr (1808-1890) was said have turned the phrase: “Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose.” Which could be a Bohemian anthem for doing absolutely nothing. He wore only black, his hair was cut short, his room was done all in black with violet colored glass windows. On his walls were hung pipes and skulls. He hired a mulatto servant and dressed him all in scarlet. Notable work: “Sous les Tilleuls” (Under the Lime Trees), a love story written in epistolary style.

Number 4 

Roger de Beauvoir (1806-1866) began life wealthy, but his life outran his fortune. He married the actress Léocadie Dozé and divorced disastrously. He was effusive to friends, spoke in verse, composed impromptu songs and told incoherent stories. He constantly dashed about and stopped frequently to drink Champagne. His indulgences took their toll: He ended up penniless, stricken with gout and confined to a chair. He left behind the 1840 novel Le Chevalier de Saint-Georges.

Number 3 

Jules-Amédée Barbey d’Aurevilly (1808—1889) was the Bohemian Beau Brummell. In fact, he had met Beau Brummell once, and for the rest of his life his sartorial splendor could not be missed. He had a series of costumes: one with a Spanish sombrero and cloak; another with a silver knight’s tunic, and a third involving an Arab robe, a Pope’s hat and red-heeled shoes. By reputation, he: “Dressed like a vulgar fop of the ancienne regime.” Remarkably, he carried on this sartorial show up to age 80, dying his hair and applying makeup. Over the years, his considerable weight gain more than filled out his clothes: “If I took communion,” he said, “I should burst!”  He created an impressive body of work, notably a biographical essay “The Anatomy of Dandyism: with some observations on Beau Brummell.” 

Number 2 

Petrus Borel “Le Lycanthrope” (1809-1859) Petrus Borel was himself a work of art: a tall, dark and striking figure, with a silky black beard, who resembled a Medieval Spanish count. He was called le Lycanthrope or the Werewolf. He was the ringleader of the original Bohemians, le Petit Cenacle, la Boheme Galante, les Bouzingos. And he lived the Bohemian pledge to shock the bourgeoisie; he was the Johnny Rotten of the 1830s, screaming “Death to the Academy!” He followed no conventions: He was an atheist and anti-clericist. He married a woman whose mother had been his mistress. He founded “Le Camp de Tartares,” whose members sat naked in a garden beside his apartment (in full sight from the street) until they were threatened with arrest. 

Théophile Gautier described Borel as god-like: “He was a star and none of us dared resist the force of his attraction.” In his presence, said Gautier, “one felt the intoxication of the spinning dervish.” He was crowned “Prince d’audaces et maitre supreme des étonnement.” Or the Prince of daring and supreme master of astonishment.

For years, Borel had lived in dire poverty; he even gave up a pet spaniel that he couldn’t afford to feed. He wrote installments for magazines, but much of his work went unfinished. For a while, he lived in a gardeners shack, dressed in rags, growing vegetables to have something to eat. Finally, he had had enough of Bohemian austerity. In 1846, at age 37, he took a civil service job that took him to Algeria and provided stability. But he remained contrary to authority and was dismissed. He died in Algeria a few years later of heatstroke or possibly starvation.

Borel left behind three books of note: “Rhapsodies” (1831) contained early poetry that he said was “like an infant who must clear their spittle before speaking.”

The second book was “Champavert” or Immoral Tales (1833). It was a professional high point. It was notable for his poem Dina, La Belle Juive. And for his statement “Life is a loathsome play…suicide is the only answer.” 

Borel’s last work (1838) was “Madame Pultiphar,” a 600-page novel, published in two volumes. It is a tale of romantic ruin. It was reviewed as obscene and compared to de Sade. Baudelaire later admired the novel and saw Borel as a victim of le guignon, or bad luck, “blighted by the evil eye.”

Number 1 

Alexandre Privat d’Anglemont (1815-1859). He was a writer known widely as Privat. His notable works were “Paris Anecdote” and “Paris Inconnu.” They chronicled the seamier side of Paris of the Louis Philippe reign (1830-1848), especially the lives of les chiffonniers, the ragpickers. 

Aside from Privat’s writing, his life was his best-known work of art. Born a mulato in Guadeloupe, he came to Paris at age 10 to be educated, and aside from one brief trip home remained there. He was determined never to leave Paris and never to work for a living. Privat was handsome and witty, a charming conversationalist—though some called him a blague, a joker, a skilled liar (on occasion he published his writing under the name of others). He frequented La Chartreuse dance hall, later known as Closerie des Lilas (which still is in operation) in Montparnasse. 

Privat so embodied the aesthetic of eccentricity, exaggeration and poverty that Henri Muger said of him: “You are not a Bohemian, you are Bohemia!” 

Privat celebrated his poverty; it was essentially his brand, and he was known widely for it. If he came into money, he soon parted with it. He bought dinner for all the street urchins he could crowd into a restaurant. After he paid the proprietor, he tossed all remaining coins to the poor. “I am unburdened," he said. 

Privat was called a noctambule or Night Owl because he wandered the dark and dangerous city at all hours. Once he was mugged by thieves who demanded money. 

He replied, “But I am Privat!” When the thieves recognized they were in the presence of the celebrated Bohemian and famed pauper of Paris, they laughed and bought him a drink. 

In true Bohemian style, Privat died of tuberculosis.