Dominique

by Eugène Fromentin

While still at school Dominique de Bray falls in love with Madeleine d'Orsel, who is a few years older than he is. She discovers he loves her shortly after her marriage to someone else, and elects to cure him. Their moral distress rises to a climax when she falls in love herself. Offers a vision of chastity and pain which hints at the dark side of life, suggesting that there are other ends to existence besides mere happiness. First published in 1862, a remarkable and sober analysis of delirious passion. All the painting of places, persons, situations, and impressions is exquisite. The analysis is very searching, very profound, mysterious in many cases, and well controlled. I feel myself a child before a man who has reflected so much."" - George Sand.

Genres: France, French Literature, Fiction, Romance, Roman, European Literature, Classics

Paperback

First published January 1, 1862

About the author

Eugène Fromentin was a French painter and writer, now better remembered for his writings.

Reviews

[Dimitri · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mi dicevo: “Amo una donna sposata!”

Due secoli dopo “La principessa di Cleves”, il pittore Eugene Fromentin scrive nel 1862 il suo unico e bellissimo romanzo, affine a quello di Madame de Lafayette per temi, sensibilità e indagine psicologica.
Dominique racconta a un suo amico, a distanza di vent’anni, la sua giovanile e incancellabile passione. Lo fa in virtù della sua memoria sensoriale infallibile, che recupera immagini, parole, suoni e odori che il tempo non ha minimamente affievolito.

Da lontano vidi entrare Madeleine in compagnia di altre giovani signore come lei, vestite di colori chiari con gli ombrellini aperti che si screziavano di ombre e di sole. Una polvere sottile, sollevata dall’ondeggiare delle gonne, le accompagnava come un alone leggero, e dalle estremità già ingiallite dei rami, foglie e fiori sfatti per il caldo cadevano copiosi intorno a loro e si fermavano sulla lunga sciarpa di chiffon che avvolgeva Madeleine.

E’ il racconto di un “disertore”, dove – come fa notare la traduttrice Rosetta Loy nella nota a fine romanzo – “la natura si impossessa dei sentimenti; e la tensione erotica, costretta e soffocata nei gesti, prorompe nella campagna assolata o fra i canneti gelati”.
Una memoria che abbraccia tutti i sensi, con una ricorrente attenzione anche nelle scene ambientate nei salotti parigini per quel pulviscolo luminoso, quella fugace eppure indimenticabile, accogliente nonché malinconica polvere di stelle che tutto avvolge, cose e persone e ricordi.

Lei era sola con Julie; io ero solo in piedi, appoggiato al braccio di Olivier. Le candele si stavano spegnendo. Un chiarore rossastro scendendo dall’alto formava una specie di nebbia luminosa, un insieme di sottile polvere odorosa e di impalpabili vapori del ballo. C’erano sui mobili, sui tappeti, fiori sfatti, mazzolini scomposti, ventagli dimenticati e carnet sui quali erano state segnate le quadriglie. Le carrozze uscivano dal cortile del palazzo, sentivo rialzare i predellini e il rumore secco delle portiere che venivano richiuse.

[Denis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dominique, a French masterpiece from the mid-nineteenth century, is, for reasons that I cannot quite fathom, not only completely unknown in the English language, but also quite neglected in France. Like too many other titles, it is, almost, a forgotten book. And yet, what a strikingly beautiful, elegantly written, powerfully moving novel it is! Dominique may well be one of the most purely romantic novels of its era, in the true sense of the word. The story - that the writer has based on some elements of his life but which is not autobiographical in a literal way - is quite simple: Dominique, a young man raised in the countryside, nearby the ocean, and who comes from privilege but feels like a peasant in so many other ways, falls in love, as a young adult, with Madeleine, the beautiful cousin of his rich and dandy-like best friend. But it is from the start an unfulfilled love (Dominique never declares his passion, Madeleine marries another man) and it will consume the tormented hero for years, reverberating on every aspect of his existence: his relationship with the world and other people, his career and his choices, his daily life in Paris (where he feels out of place). Mostly, it shapes the complicated, symbiotic yet impossible connection that he has with the woman he’s obsessed with. Dominique is a feverish, shimmering novel about desire, incandescent desire, and, even more, about lust, although things are never really expressed that crudely. The hero’s desire for Madeleine is constant, and, as time passes by and he cannot possess her, it haunts him, devours him, and it percolates within him and around him like raw energy. Does Madeleine know that he loves her intensely, and does she love him too? There’s much ambiguity about her character. She certainly, at some point, becomes aware of his desire for her, and she even thinks that she can cure him by helping him with her friendship, but of course it is she who is then on the verge of succumbing. Does desire, then, sexual and amorous, generates more desire? Dominique and Madeleine are forever linked into a passionate, almost sadistic and masochistic relationship that slowly destroys them, and that pushes them apart as much as it keeps reuniting them. Their impossible couple is the incarnation of a certain vision of unhappy love that seems very typical of its time, but - because of Eugène Fromentin’s emotionally resonant prose - it remains surprisingly vibrant and quite modern in its scope. Fromentin used to be a very gifted painter, and that helps him tremendously as a writer: he captures landscapes, atmospheres, the weather, the floating feelings that can be connected to a place, with amazing acuity and great psychological depth. His novel has an almost cinematic quality. Dominique reminded me somehow of an older masterpiece about unfulfilled desire, The princess of Clèves, but also of a latter famous book, the great, dreamy cult novel by Alain-Fournier, Le Grand Meaulnes. Pages about childhood, about the hero’s melancholy countryside that is like a mirror to his soul, about an especially magical summer by the ocean that is drenched with sensuality, about an autumnal peasants’ feast, about the last encounter at night in a castle between Dominique and Madeleine, are some of the stunningly vivid scenes that transcend the social, linguistic, and moral constraints of Fromentin’s time, and that make this novel still relevant. Dominique is a book that deserves to be recognized as one of the greatest French novels of the XIX century.

[Jan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Certainly this is a true love story in the highest artistic level novel, excellently structured, composed. So much is been said, so manyfold are the things that are withheld. The loosening and restraining the emotional reins in a alternate floating tempi, sometimes largo, than presto, mostly andante, it all comes very natural. And like in Bruckner symphonies there are significant ‘general pauses’**, which bring the reader – as a listener – to contemplate about what he is in the midst of. It is music, it is philosophical self-analysis, it is romance and next to that deep-felt friendship. Love and friendship, those are the pillars of this stunningly strong novel. How those interconnectedly develop, read it for yourself, read it with all the concentration, which is needed on every page.
** Bruckner jumps to my mind, with his broadly floating monumental symphonies that stand like cathedrals. JM
(For me this is a five star book in a long time.)

[Czarny Pies · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Dominique" est un roman au sujet de l'amour d'un jeune homme sensible pour une femme inaccessible. Il y en a beaucoup dans notre littérature ("Béatrice" de la "Divine Comédie" de Dante, Mme. Arnoux de "L'éducation sentimentale" de Flaubert etc.) "Dominique" n'est pas le chef-d'œuvre du genre, mais c'est un assez bon roman pour ceux qui trouve le thème passionnant. Ce qui est unique chez "Dominique" est le style du Fromentin qui était un des peintres importants du mouvement orientaliste. Le roman est plutôt une suite d'images écrits. Les événements et les changements dans l'état d'âme du protagoniste occupent très peu place. Quand je l'ai lu il y a cinquante ans, j'ai trouvé que c'était une relique d'un temps révolu. Je ne crois pas qu'il s'est pas rajeuni depuis.

[Cecilee Linke · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had never heard of this novel until I found it at a bookstore while I was visiting France in 2006. I picked it up because the first page intrigued me enough to buy it (and why not, it was only 4 euros!) and for the next year, I slowly made my way through this novel in the original French.

The basic plot is this: Dominique de Bray is a simple gentleman farmer living in the country with his wife and two children, Clémence and Jean. An unnamed narrator makes his acquaintance and befriends Dominique. Then when Dominique's childhood friend Olivier d'Orsel attempts suicide, Dominique is prompted to tell his new friend the story of his life. Most of the novel is told in flashbacks as Dominique recounts his childhood growing up in the countryside as an orphan, then going to school in the town of Ormesson and meeting Olivier and his family. Olivier is an orphan as well and he lives with his uncle and cousins Julie and Madeleine. Dominique meets Madeleine and over time, he realizes that he's fallen in love with her, except that by the time he realizes this, she is already engaged to someone else, a Count Alfred de Nièvres. In spite of this, he continues to pine away for her. The rest of the novel is about Dominique's failed writing career and his tortured love for Madeleine, which does not end well due to his "all or nothing" attitude.

In all, what I liked the most about this novel were the descriptions. Fromentin was a painter and it shows in his descriptions. Chapter Three was my favorite by far. His descriptions were so vivid and evocative and really made you feel like you were in the French countryside. His vivid language even inspired a song that I wrote for my album Simplicity, called Lighter Than Air. The descriptions alone made me want to translate this novel into English, since the only other English translation done of this story was in the 1940s and was, quite frankly, very hard to read and awkward in parts.

However, there were some parts of this novel that really frustrated me. There were whole chapters that dragged on, particularly in the later half with Dominique constantly mooning over Madeleine. Perhaps it's too much of my 20th century mindset peeking through, but I found his behavior to be rather disturbing in parts. I wished that he could just move on and forget her. I never quite understood what exactly it was about Madeleine that attracted him because I never really got to know her. Because of his mindset, I didn't get to know what kind of a character she really was. Everything was seen through his eyes, and he was not the most reliable narrator.

In spite of these flaws, I have completed an English translation of this novel, which is being published chapter by chapter on Amazon Kindle.

Basically, if you enjoy reading 19th century French literature, you will enjoy this book.

[Paula Koneazny · Rating 2 out of 5]

On the whole, I found this 19th century novel quite tedious, even boring. The best part of the book comes at the beginning where the narrator describes his initial encounters, while out hunting, with the landowner of the principal estate in the vicinity of Villeneuve, Dominique de Bray. Fromentin's description of what appears to be a maritime province's landscape and of the bucolic daily round on the De Bray estate are quite lovely. Unfortunately, the narrator soon hands over the storytelling duties to Dominique who recounts the drawn-out tale of his misguided youth and torturous (for all involved) romantic obsession with his friend Olivier’s cousin Madeleine (soon to be Mme. de Nièvres). When Dominique moves to Ceyssac to live with his aunt (Dominique’s parents are both deceased) and receive a formal education, he befriends Olivier, a schoolmate, and subsequently, Olivier’s cousins Madeleine and Julia. Once finished with high school, Dominique and Olivier, as is expected of young men of their class and education, relocate to Paris. In Paris, while Dominique endlessly pines after and obsesses over his impossible love for a now-married Madeleine, Olivier pursues a life of dissipated ennui, Julia pines away with unrequited love for Olivier, and Madeleine, now the wife of M. de Nièvres (often away tending to his business affairs), while attempting to cure Dominique of his love for her, becomes undone by it herself. The moral counterweight to all this feverish futility is provided by Dominique’s old tutor and other best friend, Augustin, who with neither money nor status (he was born out of wedlock) has built his life from the fruits of willpower, perseverance, generosity and an appreciation for small blessings and a peaceful married life. Augustin embodies Fromentin’s doctrine of “repos,” which can be construed as a kind of right-livelihood alternative to the perils of both romantic and debauched excess.

[em · Rating 2 out of 5]

écrire +300 pages sur un mec qui chouine parce qu’il tombe amoureux d’une femme qui va se marier, qui est prête à l’aimer, mais qui se bouge pas pour la courtiser et préfère pleurer sur son pauvre sort : c’est long. entre dominique et frédéric de « l’éducation sentimentale », la palme du plus gros looser est difficile à décerner !

[Dolors · Rating 4 out of 5]

A friend of mine recommended me this anonimous story, and I have to say I cherished it every moment. Great style, I got lost in the streets of Paris, in its art parties, with its characters, so much to say and so little time...

[Julie Alderson · Rating 1 out of 5]

Just read that one to be able to read "Ce que Dominique n'a pas su" of Jacqueline Harpman, my favourite Belgian author.

[Mouâd Benzahra · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un roman psychologique mêlé au narratif romanesque, en cela qu’il porte des gouttes d’âme de l’auteur : De celles-ci se dégage une sincérité de cœur dans toutes les expressions employées par ce dernier et les descriptions faites aussi bien des personnages, que des environnements dans lesquels ils se trouvent ainsi que de leurs d’états d’esprit.

« Il y a dans l’esprit de certains hommes je ne sais quelle brume élégiaque toujours prête à se répandre en pluie sur leurs idées. »

Dominique : Ce sont les réminiscences d’un amour de jeunesse du personnage principal qui forment l’essence de ce roman, celles-ci sont le résultat d’amours inavoués et autres entraînements de cœur exempts de spontanéité, et sont par là-même bien introduites et finement analysées grâce à l’effet rétroactif captivant du récit, illustré par les souvenirs narrés en début et milieu de texte.

« Il y a tant de nuances dans la sincérité la plus loyale ! Il y a tant de manières de dire la vérité sans la dire toute entière ! »

Ceci sans compter les notoires effusions de sentiments qui influencent et l’intérêt et la perception psychologique du lecteur, rehaussées en cela par le caractère de franchise qui marque aussi bien les personnages que leurs prises de position qui sont on ne peut bien réfléchies : avec de part et d’autre des déclamations violentes et autres subtils épanchements de cœur, tantôt emplis de langueur et de sensualité et parfois frénétiques.

« Il y a des lieux dans le monde où je suis comme humilié d’avoir promené des chagrins si ordinaires et versé des larmes peu viriles ».

Le mal d’amour du pays y est pour quelque chose aussi, avec les descriptions picturales et poétiques de scènes champêtres, et d’autres inhérentes à la ville revêtant un caractère sombre et morose, ces illustrations étant parsemées le long du récit et lui confèrent une remarquable touche artistique.

« C’était l’hiver, il pleuvait des semaines entières, il neigeait; puis un dégel subit emportait la neige, et la ville apparaissait de plus en plus noire après ce rapide … plus en plus noire après ce rapide éblouissement qui l’avait couverte un moment des fantaisies. »

J’ai littéralement apprécié ce livre pour la pertinence dont a fait preuve Fromentin dans l’analyse des sentiments, exposés sous divers angles et fidèlement peints.

[Zo' · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ah! la larme est partie malgré tout, elle a roulé sur ma joue sans que je ne puisse l'en empêcher. Il y a bien quelques passages qui m'ont bouleversée. Je m'interroge sur une chose : à quel point ce livre reflète son auteur ? (Je ne saurais dire, parce-que ce dernier ne m'est pas particulièrement familier.) Du moins, le personnage qu'est Dominique a vécu. Peu de choses, mais avec beaucoup d'humanité ; qu'on la trouve laide, pitoyable, digne ou que sais-je, il a su y trouver une finalité et en ça, pour ce qui me concerne, je le trouve admirable. Je ne sais pas si on peut qualifier son histoire d'une leçon de vie, mais s'en est le récit sans artifices et criant de vulnérabilité. En dépit de ce tumulte qui va et vient entre Dominique et ses pairs et qu'on ressent à travers lui, je ressors définitivement apaisée de cette lecture.

[Cristiana · Rating 3 out of 5]

A splendid, little known tale of love.

[Néguine · Rating 2 out of 5]

D'une mièvrerie ennuyeuses...
à part quelques passages philosophiques, et quelques descriptions bien fondées...le reste reflète juste la mélancolie amoureuse des héros romantiques ...

[Juan Jiménez García · Rating 4 out of 5]

Eugène Fromentin. Tiempo de amar

La pregunta sería, ¿es posible dejar de amar a alguien a voluntad, por imperativos mayores, por comodidad, por urgencia, por salud? Es decir, vayamos más allá: ¿es posible renunciar al amor? Escribo esto y pienso en lo antiguas que pueden resultar estas preguntas, así formuladas, quizás atrapado en ese espíritu romántico de la novela de Fromentin, en ese caudal de imágenes pero, sobre todo, de sentimientos, sensaciones, dudas, costumbres. Y tal vez, es precisamente en esa confusión de ideas y estilos, esa confusión tras la lectura, donde se pueda encontrar algo parecido a lo que quiero escribir. A lo que quiero escribir sobre Dominique, entrega número once del catálogo de Ardicia, arrebatado cruce de los infiernos personales, particulares, inexplicables para todos incluso para aquellos que los atraviesan.

Dominique pasa su infancia en Les Tembles, lugar rural donde se encuentra la mansión familiar, que tiene que abandonar para sus estudios. Primero irá a Ormesson, junto a su tía (huérfano), luego a París. De Les Tembles mantendrá su amistad con su preceptor, Augustin, y de Ormesson su encuentro con la familia Orsel, a través de su compañero de estudios y amigo, Olivier. Así conocerá a sus primas, Julie y Madeleine. Y con esta última descubrirá el amor. El amor como un estado del ánimo, del organismo, como la alteración de unos sentimientos, la aparición de otros, y la confusión de no entender. Sin embargo, nada le será dicho a ella. Y un día, será demasiado tarde. Madeleine se casa. Con un hombre bueno, sin que nada pueda serle reprochado. Una buena boda. Sin tragedias. Ni tan siquiera dramas. Solo Dominique seguirá atrapado en su propia confusión. Y entonces, marcharán todos a París, sin que sus destinos logren separarse. Entre la renuncia y una paz interior inalcanzable, en una vida condicionada por aquello que pudo ser y que, cosas de la época, del aire de su tiempo, no podrá ya ser. Pese a todo. La pregunta vuelve a ser: ¿es posible renunciar al amor?

En algún momento de la novela, Olivier, que vive su vida al día, sabiendo que no quiere esperar nada ni responder de nadie (mucho menos del amor enfermizo de Julie), condenado a una vida de lujos y despreocupaciones (que solo le aportará una felicidad superficial y le abocará a aquello que más teme, el aburrimiento, el tedio), habla de ese conformismo de perfecciones a medias, felicidades medianas y medios incompletos. Y esa es quizás la única certeza que atraviesa la novela, la de esa insatisfacción por la que nadie puede ser feliz y solo deben conformarse con buscar una falsa paz interior, hecha de renuncias.

El único que escapará a ello, que demostrará una superioridad (la de no tener nada pero andar en línea recta a la búsqueda de todo) será Augustin, aquel preceptor que no abandonará nunca a Dominique. Solo él parece vivir en un mundo real o, al menos, comprensible, en la medida que intenta vivir sin esconderse (cosa de la que no pueden presumir los demás). En su despojamiento dejará al descubierto todos esos laberintos de costumbres, de épocas, de sentimientos sofocados por los corsés de su tiempo, por los gestos codificados, las palabras dobles para personas dobles. Así, amar para Dominique será ese querer y no poder, esa lucha continua contra la imposibilidad, hasta que caerá derrotado en su propia victoria, porque tras escuchar las palabras que ha buscado desesperadamente durante años (ya ni tan siquiera el sentimiento, solo las palabras), solo le queda retirarse, porque en la constatación que ellas traen llevan su propia derrota.

Obra de un lirismo arrebatador (quién sabe si llevado por ese carácter autobiográfico que se le otorga), Eugène Fromentin, que después de todo era más pintor que escritor, construyó una obra que, como la vida de su protagonista, se nos escapa entre los dedos, como el tiempo. La urgencia de su prosa es la urgencia de ese amor no materializado, la exuberancia de sus imágenes la de unos sentimientos que no caben en los cuerpos que los cobijan. Recuerdo un fragmento de Ojos negros, aquella película de Nikita Mikhalkov basada en relatos de Chéjov. En un momento, uno de sus personajes (enfrentado también a un amor imposible, construido sobre la desesperación y la derrota, también sobre la piedad) decía que le hubiera gustado pensar que todo el bien que uno hace, todo el mal que uno hace, tiene algún reflejo, en algún instante. Dominique después de todo es esto. Esa necesidad de creer que todo lo que sentimos, todo lo que dejamos de sentir, tiene su reflejo en algún lugar, en otras personas. Que nada se pierde. Ni el amor. Nunca.

Escrito para Détour.

[Eva · Rating 3 out of 5]

Decadently romantic. Very gripping story of a past era.

[abdellah]

un livre de poche classique j a ajoute par il plusieurs mots de histoire contemporain .... jai passé un jour inoubliable eu fond de ce livre la .... vraiment magnifique ...

[MARCO PAVAN · Rating 4 out of 5]

STUPENDO