Colette's Kaleidoscope

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COLETTE‘S KALEIDOSCOPE: A STUDY OF COLORS, MIRRORS, AND CONTINUTIES IN CHERI AND GIGI

COURTNEY KEADY

A THESIS PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA

2010

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I thank my committee chair, Dr. Carol Murphy, and my committee member, Dr.

Brigitte Weltman-Aron.

I thank also my first French teacher, Mrs. Magdalena Nica.

TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS………………………………………………………………………..3

ABSTRACT………………………………………………………………………………………5

CHAPTER

1 INTRODUCTION ……………………………………………………………………….7

2 COLORS……………………………………………………………………………….16

3 MIRRORS……………………………………………………………………………...25

4 CONTINUITIES.……………………………………………………………………….32

5 CONCLUSION………………………………………………………………………...60

WORKS CITED………………………………………………………………………………..62

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH …………………………………………………………………..63

Abstract of Thesis Presented to the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts

COLETTE‘S KALEIDOSCOPE: A STUDY OF COLORS, MIRRORS, AND CONTINUTIES IN CHERI AND GIGI

Courtney Keady

December 2010 Chair: Carol Murphy Major: French

In reading Chéri and Gigi, by French novelist, Colette, one remarks the sensual, stylistic descriptions of characters, settings, and situations. Colette strategically employs color juxtapositions, mirrors, and character similarities, which create a kaleidoscopic world both within and between the two works. The two differing female protagonists and their love stories are thus linked by the way in which they are portrayed.

Color combinations as character descriptors are significant due to their effects on surrounding characters and Colette‘s readers. They allow Colette to cleverly express a character‘s emotions without actually referring to them. These color pairings also serve as a link between characters, as such physical resemblances suggest that the two characters are also experiencing similar feelings.

Mirrors, which appear in the opening and closing scenes of Chéri, function as framework to the story and give the reader insight into a character‘s actual physical appearance as well as into the character‘s opinion of this appearance. These opinions, whether distorted or truthful, provide explanations for many of the characters‘ actions and show the similarities between characters‘ thought processes.

Continuities are finally presented as shared character traits and situations.

Characters from the same novel and from the two distinct novels share mannerisms, worldviews, and dialogues. Particular characters have comparable belief systems and fixations while others are merely placed in similar circumstances. Certain characters are further linked, as they are often portrayed using the same objects, sitting in the same way, and reacting with the same zeal. The result of these mutual traits is that, in reading the scene of one character or couple, the reader is reminded of another and forms an automatic link between the two.

The purpose of my study is to explore and analyze the origin and the significance of Colette‘s use of these three narrative aids. The scenes created with combined colors, purposefully placed mirrors, and character similarities will be pointed out and studied in order to specify their effects on the reader and their importance as a part of Colette‘s kaleidoscopic literary world.

CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION A new dawn is always breaking inside a kaleidoscope. There are some who experience a sacred connection as they view the kaleidoscope through the inner mirror of their soul…Whether it is a few moments of clarity or a realization of oneness, they interpret the unfolding mandalas as messages of love and beauty; feeling, more than seeing, the radiance within… each kaleidoscope is a little world unto itself where one can: hear silent music, feel wondrous harmony … reflect on beauty repeating itself over and over again, know that for each ending there is a new beginning ( Baker 7). The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language defines a kaleidoscope as ―a tube-shaped optical instrument that is rotated to produce a succession of symmetrical designs by means of mirrors reflecting the constantly changing patterns made by bits of colored glass at one end of the tube‖ (―kaleidoscope‖ 2010). While complicated in design, allowing the viewer to gaze at shifting designs and colors, this device is often used by children and sometimes even considered to be a toy. The ease with which one can rotate the tube to create an infinite number of color and shape combinations can overshadow the power and beauty of the symmetrical images as well as the innovation and creativity that go into its original design. The creation of the original image involves choice of color, mirror size, and type of rotation; ―first and foremost it takes the hands and heart of a dedicated artist. Indeed the artist is the very heart of the kaleidoscope‖ (Baker 15). Understanding the scientific and artistic construction of the kaleidoscope and its combinations heighten the senses and the emotions of the audience.

In a similar fashion, one such artist, the French writer Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette

(1873-1954), chose to use color, mirrors, and interactions of senses and of characters in order to create shifting yet unbroken patterns in her own, mesmerizing literary world.

Author of novels and short stories with female protagonists, Colette was often labeled as classically feminist. Only recently has Colette‘s body of work been recognized for its distinct, sensual descriptions. She has been the subject of several recent biographies and critical works that have produced new readings of her fiction. For Julia Kristeva,

Colette ―found a language to express a strange osmosis between her sensations, her desires, her anxieties – those pleasures thoughtlessly called physical – and the infiniteness of the world, the blossoming of flowers, the rippling of beasts, sublime apparitions, contagious monsters‖ (1). In Colette, the third and final volume of Female

Genius: Life, Madness, Words – Hannah Arendt, Melanie Klein, Colette. Kristeva explains Colette‘s talent with expressive language as a result of her ability to depict and invoke sensation in her novels and short stories. In my thesis, I argue that the elements of color and mirror-like reflections of characters in each other contribute to Colette‘s distinctive literary style. In her brief yet profound depictions of scenery and characters,

Colette uses strategic color combinations and juxtapositions that elicit reactions from her reader. Colette creates a bond between the reader and the characters of her story in a fashion similar to the workings of a kaleidoscope. Like the shifting, yet symmetrical designs of a kaleidoscope, Colette‘s characters, their sensations, and the emotions conveyed to the reader are both delightful and emotionally provocative.

The characters that appear in Colette‘s novels are connected to each other by their actions, reactions, and feelings. In addition, the scenes of interaction are linked through the sensual, selective choice of words with which they are described. Thus, the people and worlds present in Colette‘s works constantly invoke each other and amplify the reader‘s experience of each text. This invocation is a result of Colette‘s unique word

choices and her tendency to present characters that fit into certain categories, i.e. young, lively women, aging courtesans, weak males, etc. in the same way. In her feminist reading of Colette‘s life and works, Joan Stewart identifies the strong connection between Colette‘s characters as the result of both stylistic and gender- related factors. Stewart concludes that,

Colette‘s uniqueness relates on the one hand to the break with traditional genres… on the other to her exploration of gender differences. In Colette‘s writing, ordinary feminine pursuits are beautiful and heroic as well as prosaic; men are sex objects; and maternal and passionate love, heterosexual and homosexual love, the pure and impure drift together (137). Kristeva also emphasizes this connectivity, noting that female characters (and male characters with feminine traits) are often linked to each other by societal codes – defined spheres of feminine domestic honor – and by the ambiguous loving relationships in which they find themselves involved (174).

This interrelatedness of characters, settings, and scenes, can be described as kaleidoscopic. In his study of modern artistic vision and the importance of an active observer, Techniques of the Observer, Jonathan Crary highlights the exceptionality of the kaleidoscope. He notes that its ability to create visual multiplicity using new technology allows for greater perception and a new way of seeing. The fluidly changing patterns assure that ―There is never a pure access to a single object; vision is always multiple, adjacent to and overlapping with other objects, desires, and vectors … a world where everything is in circulation‖ (20). The kaleidoscope then functions as a metaphor for Colette‘s artistic vision and has consequences for the reader. Just as the viewer of a kaleidoscope unavoidably, concurrently witnesses several revolving colors, shapes, and

patterns through a single eyepiece, an informed Colette reader is faced with perceptions of several different characters, places, and stories while reading a single novel.

Colette‘s individual scenes are linked by their characters, events, and the smells, sights, sound, tastes, are evoked in their descriptions. This mixing of senses, better defined in The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language as ―synesthesia‖ or ―an automatic, involuntary experience in a second sensory pathway through stimulation of the first‖ (―synesthesia‖ 2010) causes the reader to experience, not just read, each of her scenes. Kristeva explains Colette‘s subtle talent: ―Shored up by a generalized synesthesia, where the visible is heard, the olfactory touched, sounds tasted, and so on and vice versa, Colette‘s metamorphic body experiences a season by breathing it in…‖ (205). This narrative gift assures that there is, in fact, never access to a single character or situation; all are unendingly linked.

Unlike Crary, who outlines the innovative, positive aspects of the kaleidoscope, other nineteenth-century thinkers, such as social historians Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, contested its significance due to the multiplicity of a single image, which they viewed as trickery. Crary explains that ―the multiplicity that so seduced Baudelaire was for them a sham, a trick literally done with mirrors. Rather than producing something new the kaleidoscope simply repeated a single image‖ (114). Marx‘ and Engels‘ work with theories of production caused them to believe the rotating angled mirrors to be misleading, as the device offered nothing new nor wholly original. The rotation of a single image, for Marx and Engels, presented a false infinity of colored designs. What is useful to my conception of a kaleidoscopic effect in Colette‘s novels is that each slightly different view of symmetric shape and color, in being linked to both the previous and the

future images creates a continuity of vision. The movement from design to design and the repetition of patterned elements set up a dynamic that is both familiar in its recurrence of motifs and surprising in its new juxtapositions. It is this simultaneous familiarity and freshness that allow the reader to first sense Colette‘s unique style in her various novels.

Two such novels, in which both similar and opposite personality traits define characters are Colette‘s Chéri (1920) and Gigi (1944). These two works, both considered to be among Colette‘s finest (Colette viii; Stewart 48, 77; Thurman 458), describe the struggles of the female protagonists of differing ages and experience levels. The characters of each novel are intertwined due to their shared personality traits, surroundings, and situations. Scenes involving one character reveal similar scenes of another, in which a different character was faced with the same circumstances, reacted in the same way, or was described using similar adjectives and details. This continuity is also present between the characters of the two different novels, as many seem to be different versions of each other. While reading a scene from Chéri, one is often reminded of a scene from Gigi and vice-versa. The repetitive motifs suggest the recurring patterns of a kaleidoscope, which are always slightly altered. Accordingly, though the characters and plot lines described in the two stories mirror each other, their stories‘ lasting impression is entirely different.

Chéri, which takes place at the end of the Belle Époque during the years 1912 and 1913 was first published as a series in the weekly La vie parisienne between

January 3 and June 5, 1920; it was published in volume the same year (Colette viii) and followed by the publication of La fin de Chéri in 1926. The novel tells the story of forty-

nine year old Léa, a rich, single woman who spends her time in society gossiping with her fellow ex-courtesans about their fashion and love affairs. One of Léa‘s oldest friends, Charlotte Peloux, is often joined during their gossip sessions by her son, Fred

Peloux, known as Chéri. Chéri playfully seduces Léa and, after a summer spent in the

South together, they find themselves involved in a full-fledged affair. This love affair is between unequal partners, as Chéri expects his older lover to take care of him as a mother takes care of her child and Léa, who enjoys her dominant position in the relationship, obliges. After six years Léa is still involved with her young lover and secretly considers him to be one of her greatest achievements, as it is difficult for a woman of her age to hold the attention of a young suitor for six entire years. Chéri and

Léa‘s May-December romance comes to a screeching halt when Chéri‘s marriage to nineteen-year old Edmée is arranged by his mother and one of her middle aged ex- courtesan friends, Marie-Laure, and takes place with no strong reactions from either

Léa or Chéri.

However, when Chéri returns from his honeymoon to discover that Léa has gone on an extended vacation without leaving any sign of return, he panics, walks out on his young wife, and becomes obsessed with Léa‘s return. Upon this return, Chéri becomes terrified that Léa has already replaced him with a new young man. To learn whether his fear has come true, Chéri shows up at Léa‘s house and it is revealed that because of their separation, both Léa and Chéri have finally realized their real love for one another.

After a brief discussion, the two share a night of unrestrained passion, during which

Léa, normally in total control of her emotions, allows herself to be vulnerable. In the light of day, this vulnerability and failure to pay careful attention to her daytime appearance

prove to be unattractive to Chéri, who admired Léa‘s stoicism and counted on her to act, as before, as the adult in the relationship. Instead of running away with Chéri, Léa acts selflessly and urges him to return to Edmée and live his young life. Chéri obeys and walks out of Léa‘s apartment with a new lease on life, as if he has escaped a prison.

The bittersweet conclusion of Chéri, which describes the end of both a loving relationship and of the protagonist‘s sexual eligibility, is in sharp contrast to the happy ending of Colette‘s last major piece of fiction, Gigi. This novella, often grouped with

Colette‘s other writings from the war years, was published in 1944. The fifteen-year-old protagonist, Gilberte, known to her family as Gigi, lives with her grandmother, Mme

Alvarez, and often visits her great-aunt Alicia, as her mother is a performer who has little time to spend with her adolescent daughter. Mme Alvarez and Tante Alicia devote themselves to teaching Gigi the rules of courtesan dress, behavior, and love affairs in an attempt to pass on their courtesan ways to the blossoming youth. Gigi wishes to please her family and complies with most of the strict and sometimes unfounded rules until she is faced with a difficult decision that will affect the rest of her young life.

This decision comes after Gigi‘s affluent Tonton Gaston, a very close family friend, realizes that he has romantic feelings for her. Such a first affair would be wonderful for both Gigi and her family‘s reputation and she is, thus, strongly urged to accept Gaston‘s offer. Gigi, however, insists that if Gaston really loved her, he would spare her the pain and humiliation associated with being one of his mistresses – Gaston has a reputation for abandoning his lovers in the midst of scandal and suicidal states– and instead spend quiet time with her in her family‘s home, just as he did before. After being both furious about and embarrassed by Gigi‘s rejection of Gaston‘s offer to

become his mistress, Mme Alvarez and Tante Alicia are surprised when Gigi changes her mind only to instead receive Gaston‘s marriage proposal. This surprise ending, instead of being a condemnation to the life of a courtesan, becomes a bourgeois beginning – an acceptance of approved civil roles.

The focus of my research concerns these two novels, Chéri and Gigi. Their strong female protagonists and love stories with vastly different endings makes them ideal for comparison. Critical works useful to my study of Colette‘s texts include a general, yet critical overview of Colette‘s life and works, Colette by Joan Stewart. Two other critical works, Judith Thurman‘s thorough Secrets of the Flesh and Julia Kristeva‘s insightful Colette, were crucial to a deeper understanding of Colette‘s language and ability to create connections between characters. These works also guided my choice to explore the author‘s frequent use of color, mirrors, and shared character traits in the two novels.

In addition, the kaleidoscope, as art and science, comes to mind as a useful metaphor for conveying Colette‘s dynamic style. In order to develop this metaphor, it was helpful to read and study the images in kaleidoscopic art books in order to learn more about the creation and use of the device. One finds that Cozy Baker‘s general introduction to the kaleidoscope and its contemporary designers, Kaleidoscope Artistry, describes the history and profundity of the kaleidoscope in the art and visual worlds while Jonathan Crary‘s Techniques of the Observer explains the importance of the mindset and experience of the actual observer of the kaleidoscope. Crary‘s work goes further, as it offers the opinions of famous authors both on the wonder and the downfalls of kaleidoscopic movement. Finally, in order to direct an objective study of frequently

used colors and their meanings, M.E. Chevreul‘s The Principles of Harmony and

Contrast of Colors and Their Application to the Arts was extremely useful in its elaboration of color theory popular during the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Color, as an element of kaleidoscopic vision, is also an important element of

Colette‘s descriptions in Chéri and Gigi. A study of the author‘s use of color descriptions and their association with particular sentiments leads to a better understanding of the texts themselves. Mirrors, too, are an important part of kaleidoscopic artistry. They are used strategically by Colette to frame and accentuate important scenes and character interaction. In addition, such interaction, or continuity of character, must finally be studied through the various fluidly changing links between individual characters of the same novel and of the two individual novels. These comparisons and associations allow one to fully appreciate the magical world present in

Colette‘s kaleidoscopic universe. My thesis will examine these aspects in an organization of chapters concerning color, mirrors, and continuity.

CHAPTER 2 COLORS

As Baker notes, kaleidoscopes are ―all about‖ ―an aurora borealis of color‖ (15).

Colette‘s frequent use of color descriptors sets up a palette of sensations and feelings used to compare and contrast different characters and their situations. Conventionally, for instance, white is associated with innocence, red with romance or violence, and purple with royalty. While such associations can and will be discussed while studying

Colette‘s works, a more scientific study of color is also necessary.

My study of colors in Colette‘s descriptive language is based upon the work of

French scientist, M.E. Chevreul, whose 1839 publication, De la loi du contraste simultané des couleurs was influential in the development of popular nineteenth-century color theory. In this study, Chevreul presents the effects of individual colors placed next to each other and mixed together. Like Baker, Chevreul remarks that ―the eye undoubtedly takes pleasure in seeing Colours, independent of design and every other quality in the object which exhibits them‖ (75). Chevreul recognizes the positive sentiments that individual colors can evoke but he emphasizes the importance of the colors and their effects: ―the harmony of contrast of colors, produced by the simultaneous view of colors belonging to scales very far asunder, assorted according to the law of contrast: the difference in height of juxtaposed tones may also augment the tone of the colors‖ (76). For Chevreul the power and intensity of individual colors is heightened when they are placed next to other colors. However, before unveiling his results, Chevreul points out that the changes do not actually occur in the colors themselves but, instead, in the eyes of the viewer: ―If we look simultaneously upon two stripes of different tones … the eye perceives certain modifications which in the first

place influence the intensity of colour, and in second, the optical composition of the two juxtaposed colours respectively‖ (52). The perceptions of the viewer are thus of the utmost importance. Colette‘s palette of color descriptors is seen by the characters in her novels – it is often, in fact, how they view one another – and by her readers. Together, these viewers associate particular color combinations with emotions and character types.

Chevreul distributes the colors into groups, ―to which are applied the terms red rays, orange rays, yellow rays, green rays, blue rays, indigo rays, and violet rays‖ (51) and demonstrates how these groups are affected by their juxtaposition with each other and with white, black, and grey.

Chéri and Gigi each contain several descriptions that use juxtaposed colors.

They are so numerous that only the most frequently used and important color combinations stand out. These are red and blue, blue and green, red and white, blue and white, and black and white.

In order to observe the effect of one individual color on another, Chevreul followed a scientific method. He suggests that ―if we look simultaneously upon two stripes of different tones of the same colour, or upon two strips of the same tone of different colours placed side by side, if the stripes are not too wide, the eye perceives certain modifications which in the first place influence the intensity of colour, and in the second, the optical composition of the two juxtaposed colours respectively‖ (52). Thus, the first change that occurs when one views the colors red and blue together, is that they each become more intense. Secondly, as Chevreul observes in his experiments, red inclines to yellow and blue inclines to green (Chevreul 53). The combination of red

and blue is, therefore, very strong; the red and blue each become more intense and then each transforms to a brighter, glowing color. Also, when exploring the beauty of color combinations, Chevreul notes that when red and blue are combined, ―the dark tones are preferable to the light tones‖ (77).

Colette takes advantage of this strong color combination when describing her main characters. Léa, for instance, who is usually controlled emotionally and physically

(i.e. powdered and perfumed), lets her guard down in the last scene of the novel.

Thurman notes that, in this final scene, ―For the first time in their affair, and perhaps for the first time ever, Léa let herself go‖ (290). Léa‘s raw emotions take over, allowing her to recapture this passionate, contrasted coloring of youth; her complexion goes from bland to fresh and colorful. As Léa worries about the possibility of life without her young lover, Chéri remarks that she had ―les pommettes sèches et luisantes, d‘un rouge fiévreux qui rendait le bleu de ses yeux presque insoutenable. Il marchait, la tête penchée et ne cessait de parler‖ (Colette 184). Here the adjective ―fiévreux‖ highlights the intense red that has been caused by the rush of blood to Léa‘s cheeks. The adjective ―insoutenable,‖ which is used to describe her blue eyes, highlights the idea that the blue is so deep that it is hard to view directly. The respective yellow and green colors brought out by the combination of intense red and blue can be credited with the glowing, fiery presence of Léa at the moment.

The same combination of red and blue is often used to describe young Gigi. Her fire is evident as her grandmother judges her appearance,

Et les yeux espagnols de Mme Alvarez allaient, pleins d‘une vigilante attention, de joues rouges et des dents blanches de Gigi au fils Lachaille qui lui tirait les cheveux à poignée … les beaux yeux bleu d‘ardoise qui pleuraient des larmes de fou rire (452).

The fact that Mme Alvarez hears the crazy laughter and is tempted to stare attentively at her granddaughter may be attributed, in part, to the combination of her

―joues rouges‖ and her ―beaux yeux bleu d‘ardoise.‖ Moreover, Gigi‘s eyes are described with the addition of ―d‘ardoise‖ suggesting that the blue in her eyes inclines to a slate color. The life that is still evident, even though this color is a static grey, comes from their combination with red, which causes even this slate grey to contain a more golden, glowing green.

The glow created by the intense pairing of Gigi‘s rosy cheeks and blue eyes is noted also by her Aunt Alicia. Tough Gigi is still fresh faced and has yet to begin applying rouge or eye makeup, it is noted that Gigi ―offrait à la curiosité aigue d‘Alicia sa fraîche figure à laquelle le cerne lilas des paupières, la fièvre de la bouche ajoutaient une sorte de maquillage ‖ (474). Here, though her eyelids are not exactly described as blue like her eyes themselves, they have the same effect on her coloring; in Chevreul‘s theory, the combination of red and violet causes the red to incline to yellow and the violet to incline to indigo (53). Due to the fact that Alicia views Gigi‘s natural combination of violet and red as something that would be created by the application of makeup, one notes that this combination is pleasing and desired by other women; Gigi sports a sort of natural makeup. The fact that Gigi‘s rosy cheeks tend toward yellow gives her face a youthful glow, while the violet on her eyelids becomes bluer and more like her eyes.

This has an effect on the viewer, Alicia, who sees these color changes, resulting from the combination of red, blue, and violet, and notes that they make Gigi more attractive.

Though Gigi‘s Aunt Alicia discusses several different colors during her lesson on gemology, she ends the lesson and emphasizes the importance of the appearance of blue inside of a green emerald. Before the end of their discussion, ― ‗Tu vois, dit-elle à mi-voix, ce feu presque bleu qui court au fond de la lumière verte… Seules les plus belles émeraudes contiennent ce miracle de bleu insaisissable…‖ (459). In Chevreul‘s theory the combination of green and blue causes the green to incline to yellow and the blue to incline to indigo (53). An emerald with a blue center would, therefore, contain some yellow, a factor which would heighten its color and give it a warm glow, making its intense blue center ―insaisissable‖.

Chevreul also studied the effects of white, black, and grey on strips of colors. He first observed the combination of red and white which ―resulted in green the complimentary of Red, being added to the White. The red appears more brilliant and deeper‖ (58). White, then, when placed next to red, does not take away from the color but, instead, heightens it. The combination of red and white prevalent in both Gigi and

Chéri is used when describing characters. The single description of Gigi‘s mother that appears in the text notes that, as she eats a late dinner, ― Andrée Alvar mangea solidement … Les fards la rendaient encore très jolie ; mais démaquillée elle avait le bord des yeux rose et la bouche décolorée ‖ (447). Here one first notes that Andrée is viewed as more beautiful when wearing stage makeup, presumably eye color that would give her the same youthful combination of red and blue that her daughter possesses naturally. Andrée‘s actual coloring, which is made up of pink (studied as one of the various shades of red) eyes and a colorless mouth, which one associates with a white absence of colored rays, is nowhere near as pleasant (Chevreul 51). The juxtaposition

of red and white that appears causes her eyes to glow a deeper red, which is animalistic and suggests old age or raw emotion. Also, the creation of green in the white of her mouth would cause Andrée to appear sickly, which also ages her.

The unpleasantness created by the combination of red and white on Andrée‘s face is evident also in a description of Edmée. During his visit to Léa, after he has fled his new home and marriage, Chéri talks about the effect of a white dress that Edmée wore at dinner. He exclaims, ―‗ Elle était au balcon dans sa robe en jais blanc, un blanc tellement gelé ; oh! je n‘aime pas cette robe. Cette robe me donnait l‘envie de ficher le camp depuis le dîner‘‖ (166). The cold and intense feeling created by this dress can be attributed to its white color. Just as it does with red, white causes all of the other color categories to ―appear brighter and deeper‖ (Chevreul 59). The effect created by

Edmée‘s white sequin dress is to highlight the red of her youthful skin and all of the other colors of her body. In causing Edmée‘s face and body to appear more intensely colored and to stand out, the white tones catch Chéri‘s eye and force him to see her.

Such a brilliant and intense appearance cannot be denied and sets the scene for

Chéri‘s departure.

During one of her visits with Gaston, after he has begun to realize his true affection for her, Gigi is twice associated with the combination of blue and white. Colette describes Gigi, ―Elle parade devant Gaston dans une robe blanche et bleue, qui touchait presque terre… les manches et la jupe évasée, en toile de soie à rayures blanches et bleues… ‖ (462). As mentioned this combination causes the blue to appear brighter and deeper. The conventional view is that blue is calming and serene, but often associated, as is white, with the innocence of the Virgin Mary. Here, by twice insisting

upon the blue and white combination worn by Gigi in her suitor‘s presence, Colette reminds the reader of her purity and well-meaning nature.

Just as the combination of white with the various color categories is utilized in much of Colette‘s description of characters, the combination of white with black is used very carefully in the same way. The love story between Léa and Chéri is seen mostly from Léa‘s perspective, as the reader is allowed into her thoughts. The authenticity of her character and emotions are underlined by her moments of blushing and always colored description. Inversely, Chéri‘s feelings and thoughts are often a mystery to both his lovers and the audience. He is shown to have two opposite ways of acting – childish and needy when he is with Léa, cold and authoritative when he is with young Edmée.

These two sides are suggested by the colors with which Chéri is often associated, black and white. One notes that these two are classically opposite and often appear together to highlight difference; their combination is further described by Chevreul, ―Black and

White … differ more from each other than when viewed separately; and this is owing to the effect of the white light reflected by the black being destroyed more of less by the light of the white stripe‖ (59). The juxtaposition of black and white and their tendency to destroy one another heighten the conflict between the two aspects of Chéri. Thurman, too, remarks Chéri‘s conflicting physical and personality traits: ―Chéri‘s beauty, like his character, is all black and white: raven hair and pearly teeth, a perfect mouth and an ugly laugh, an angel‘s grace and a ‗dago‘s‘ taste in ties. He is both childlike and degenerate‖ (287).

In the text, through Léa‘s eyes, one views the constant contrast of Chéri‘s two beings. In the very first scene she observes that ―Devant les rideaux roses traversés de

soleil, il dansait, tout noir, comme un gracieux diable sur un fond de fournaise. Il redevint tout blanc du pyjama du soie aux babouches de daim ‖ (2). This description plays with the effect of shadow on Chéri‘s form. He dances in the darkness and is associated with evil. He then effortlessly steps back into the light and reclaims an innocent, ―tout blanc,‖ form. The intensity of the black form taken by Chéri is augmented by its association with ―un gracieux diable.‖ His actual pale white skin and the version of him in silk pajamas that can be seen to the naked eye is, thus, different than the Chéri known and sometimes viewed by his lover.

Just as Chevreul recognizes the ability of both individual and juxtaposed colors to delight the observer, he states that certain color combinations or combinations of too many colors can be unpleasant. He also discusses the shapes and actual objects to which these colors are applied, ―The absence of general harmony remarked in many classes of compositions, frequently depends upon the endeavor to introduce too great a number of heterogeneous objects, or such as differ too much‖ (145). From this observation, one understands that while combining colors and shapes often enhances the brilliance of each, it is also possible for combinations to take away from the beauty of individual colors and objects.

This unfortunate combination of objects and colors appears in Chéri in the enthusiastically designed new home of Chéri and Edmée. When the two discussed their new home, Edmée ― découvrit que s'il [Chéri] savait d'instinct et jouer avec les couleurs, il méprisait les belles formes et les caractéristiques des Styles‖ (90). Her belief that

Chéri is not capable of judging shapes and forms is followed by his clever, yet overwhelming feelings on color. He exclaims that ― ‗Une décision pour le fumoir? Tiens,

en v'ià une : bleu pour les murs, un bleu qui n'a peur de rien. Un tapis violet, d'un violet qui fout le camp devant le bleu des murs. Et puis, là-dedans, ne crains pas le noir, ni l'or pour les meubles et les bibelots ‖ (90). Chéri‘s choice of colors – the full, vibrant colors of blue and violet as well as harsh black and gold – creates an effect that is unpleasant.

Their combination is already put into question, as Edmée believes that the addition of a lighter white is necessary to keep the rooms from looking too dark and heavy.

The idea that Chéri‘s decorating ideas have indeed created an unpleasant environment is supported by the first exchange between Léa and Madame Paloux after

Chéri‘s marriage and honeymoon. When asked about the home, Madame Paloux‘s response proves that she is not fond of it. She exclaims, ―— Sinistre, piaula Mme

Peloux. Sinistre! Des tapis violets ! Violets ! Une salle de bains noire et or. Un salon sans meubles, plein de vases chinois gros comme moi‖ (144).

The fact that the décor of Chéri‘s and Edmée‘s new house is inharmonious is not surprising, as each has completely different ideas yet insists on design input. Unlike

Léa‘s sensual and aesthetically pleasing bedroom in which Chéri merely exists, his new house has two clashing tastes and points of view, foreshadowing the patterns in their marriage. Chevreul mentions this problem in decoration, equating it to the design of a new building: ―such is the case of the deficiency of harmony observable in buildings on which several architects have been employed either successfully or at the same time‖

(145-146). Thus, the experiences and tastes of Chéri and Edmée have combined to create a home whose décor does not work well together.

CHAPTER 3 MIRRORS As Baker notes in her chapter about Classic Object-Cell Scopes, ―One can almost imagine Aristotle gazing into a kaleidoscope when he declared ‗The chief forms of beauty are order and symmetry and definiteness‘‖ (21). The kaleidoscope‘s presentation of balanced design is therefore highlighted as both an innate and defining quality. It is thus important to realize that while an artist‘s color and pattern choices for the cells of a kaleidoscope create the beauty and the individuality of each work, these cannot stand alone. Mirrors are also necessary; it is the mirrors that reflect the designs and delight the viewer with constantly changing yet symmetrical patterns.

Much like a kaleidoscope artist, Colette uses mirrors in order to create symmetry and foster comprehension of her characters and their stories. In Stewart‘s study of dialogue in Colette, she alludes to the work of Yannick Resch. Resch ―points out, first, that in Julie de Carneilhan as in Chéri, the narrative itself is framed by mirrors, for the first and last pages of both these novels contain the description of a protagonist looking in a mirror‖ (74). Due to the placement of mirrors in both the very first and the very last scene of the story, Colette therefore gives the reader of Chéri a grand, almost instantaneous sense of symmetry.

While there is a similar mention of mirrors in each scene, there is, however, a difference in the way in which these mirrors are employed. In the first scene of the novel, it is the young Chéri who is introduced staring into a full length mirror and captivated by his own handsome image. The scene takes place in Léa‘s bedroom dominated by the ―grand lit de fer forgé et de cuivre ciselé, qui brillait dans l‘ombre

comme une armure‖ (1). This four-post bed as location of the love affair introduces the concept of reflection and symmetry into the scene. While Léa rests calmly on this bed,

Chéri studies himself carefully, made evident by Colette‘s description of him, ―immobile devant son image‖ (2). Here the idea that Chéri ―se tenait devant un miroir long, appliqué au mur entre les deux fenêtres, et contemplait son image de très beau et très jeune homme, ni grand ni petit …‖ (2) not only shows his appreciation of his physical form but also presents him to the reader. The mirror represents additional, oftentimes repetitive description, portraying him, instead, within the diegesis. The idea that this description is one that Chéri himself has come up with makes it important to note the use of the adverb ―très,‖ which modifies both ―beau‖ and ―jeune.‖ This addition highlights the idea that Chéri is not only happy with his physical traits but that he also sees himself as uncommonly good looking and young compared to those around him. The following phrase, ―ni grand ni petit,‖ suggests that Chéri sees his height as being just right – also an uncommon trait. Finally this first presentation of Chéri fixated on his image presents an inner symmetry due to the description of the mirror as, ―appliqué au mur entre les deux fenêtres‖ and therefore highlighting the symmetrical layout of Léa‘s bedroom.

In the last scene of the novel it is not Chéri but his abandoned lover that is reflected in the very same mirror. This final scene, in which Chéri and Léa both realize that their ages prevent them from having a real romantic future together, is a bittersweet ending to the novel. Chéri seems to have a new lease on life while a panicked Léa watches him walk away relieved, ―comme un évadé‖ (202). Unlike Chéri‘s attentive gaze into the mirror in the opening scene, Léa‘s glance into the looking glass is quick and displeased. Colette writes that ―Une vieille femme haletante répéta, dans le miroir

oblong, son geste, et Léa se demanda ce qu‘elle pouvait avoir de commun avec cette folle‖ (202). The term ―haletante‖ underlines the panicked quickness with which Léa sees herself in the mirror, as the associated weakness and shortness of breath create a feeling of urgency. Léa‘s identification of her own image as ―cette folle‖ shows that, unlike Chéri, Léa is not at all pleased with her own reflection and that ―elle se demanda ce qu‘elle pouvait avoir de commun‖ because of her inner disassociation with an outer, aging physical self who has, for once, lost control over her emotions. This reflected image and its circumstances are therefore completely different from that of Chéri in the opening scene; it is the mirror itself that links the two moments and simultaneously draws attention to their stark contrasts.

The beginning and closing scenes of Chéri underscore difference and sameness.

The differing reflections in the same mirror give the work a general symmetry. They also highlight character analysis. For Stewart, ―the principal thrust of her analysis is to establish that, through the mirror, knowledge of the body becomes knowledge of the self‖ (74). This idea is evident in the contrast between the two characters: Chéri contentedly notes his positive attributes as he stares into the mirror, while Léa first notes her age and loss of emotional control due to the crazy figure she catches in the mirror. The link between knowledge of the body and knowledge of the self is, in fact, highlighted several times throughout the novel.

The physical differences in age between the two lovers are amplified by the mirrors with which they are surrounded, just as they were in the opening and closing scenes. While still in her bedroom at the beginning of the novel Léa criticizes herself harshly by comparing her appearance to ―Une maraîchère. Une maraîchère normande

qui s‘en irait aux champs de patates avec un collier‖ after picking up ―un miroir sur la console de chevet‖ (8). She no longer thinks herself capable of properly wearing pearls, and is critical of the necklace, ―Cela me va comme une plume d‘autruche dans le nez, – et je suis polie‖ (8). Léa‘s original comparison of herself to a market gardener is extended by the phrase « qui s‘en irait aux champs de patates, » which reveals in its imagery both wit and frustration. The idea that she seems like a gardener suggests that she has noticed too much sun on her skin, i.e. dark color and wrinkles, the result of manual labor, and a fatigued look on her face perhaps due to dark circles under her eyes and sunken cheeks. The idea that it is no longer flattering for Léa to wear pearls is also presented cleverly by a comparison of their appearance around her lined neck to that of a feather stuck up one‘s nose and then adds that this harsh comparison is

―polie.‖ Instead of only stating that the pearls make her look old or ugly, the inventive comparison suggests that there is no question of whether or not she should still wear them. Such an unsympathetic and categorically negative judgment of the image that

Léa sees in the mirror supports Stewart‘s conclusion that for Colette‘s earlier heroines, including Léa, ―looking in the mirror is an exercise in self-criticism, a painful lesson in aging‖ (74).

While many of Léa‘s judgments of her reflection are negative, the mirror does, at times, provide her with positive feedback. After almost becoming emotional while questioning Chéri about his upcoming nuptials and honeymoon with the young Edmée,

Léa contains herself and takes to fixing her hair, which, like her, has almost come undone in imitation of her psychic state. Instead of replying to Chéri‘s snide comment that he will always come to her if only because he needs a favor, Léa resists the

temptation to snap back at him. She replaced her failing ― fourche d‘écaille tombée‖ in her hair and ― prolongea sa chanson avec complaisance devant un miroir, fière de se dompter si aisément, d‘escamoter la seule minute émue de leur séparation, fière d‘avoir retenu les mots qu‘il ne faut pas dire‖ (66). One notes that Léa does not comment on her reflection in the mirror but instead thinks of the emotional feats that she has achieved. She pays little attention to the face staring back at her and instead has an air of ―complaisance‖ that is due not to her face and body but to her grace. Stewart notes that this phenomenon is common in the encounters of Colette‘s protagonists with mirrors: ―mirrors provide another kind of reflection and lead her … to self awareness‖

(42). Léa‘s dignity and calm manner are highlighted, while the actual appearance of her hair as she reworks it into the comb is left out of the description; she is looking further into herself than into the mirror and therefore giving the reader emotional insight that is much more powerful than any physical mirror reflection.

In addition to providing physical and psychic projections of characters, mirrors often function as a narrative device. In Chéri, more specifically, mirrors aid the description of Léa by causing her to be physically juxtaposed with Chéri. After returning from his honeymoon with Edmée, Chéri discusses age with her; he is surprised and enchanted by the idea that his bride is only nineteen years old and questions whether she knows his true age, ―sais-tu que j‘en ai plus de vingt-cinq ans?‖ (86) while looking at the handsome yet imperfect details of his face. Chéri ―prit sur la table de chevet un miroir d‘écaille blonde,‖ nothing that ―au coin externe de l‘oeil, puis au-dessous de l‘oeil, doublant finement le dessin à l‘antique de la paupière, deux lignes, visibles seulement en pleine lumière, deux incisions …‖ (88). Here Léa‘s previous scene in the mirror is

doubly evoked. First, one notes that the mirror that Chéri picks up is ―un miroir d‘écaille blonde‖ just as the hair clip that Léa looks in the mirror to fix is ―une fourche d‘écaille.‖

Mention of the same decorative material serves to link the two scenes. Secondly, one notes that, while he is not disappointed with his reflection, Chéri, like Léa, is critical of signs of aging. He skips over many of the nice details of his face, as his eye is drawn to the barely visible ―deux lignes.‖

While spending time with his single friend Desmond and away from his new bride, Chéri has an even less pleasant encounter with a mirror. A ―miroir oblong, juste à sa taille comme celui de la chambre de Léa‖ (130) draws him in and causes him to think of the similar mirror in Léa‘s bedroom. He then wonders whether in this ―autre miroir‖ there is already a reflection to replace the previous one. He ponders, ― ‗Elle y est peut-

être déjà, dans le miroir de Léa, l‘image du jeune homme ? …‘ Cette pensée traversa son exaltation avec une telle virulence qu‘il crut, hébété, l‘avoir entendue ‖ (130). It is important to note the juxtaposition between Léa‘s bedroom, which is identified by

Chéri‘s mother as having kept him from having the opportunity to live as a young bachelor, and Desmond‘s bedroom, which is exactly the opposite, as it highlights his new-found bachelorhood. The terror that Chéri feels when realizing that he may have already been replaced is apparent due to his dazed state, is expressed by ―hébété.‖ The worries of whether Léa has replaced him that run through Chéri‘s mind after gazing into this recall the worries of aging that run through Léa‘s head after her encounters with her own reflection. Here, again, the mirrors ―mirror‖ not only physical states but also psychological states.

The physical placement of mirrors in the story, whose role is defined by Stewart in her specific section on Chéri and the problem of aging as, ―reflection, distortion, observer, other‖ (48), highlights the impossibility of sustaining Léa and Chéri‘s romance due to the problem of aging. Both characters encounter their own reflections and note the imperfections that have come with time, though Léa is much more critical – probably due to the larger impact that her age has played on her reflection. Mirrors, thus, function in Colette‘s writing by subtly contributing to the description of both physical and emotional states of her protagonists, furthering the narrative, and framing the story by generating symmetry and connectivity between individual characters and scenes. The people and passions reflected in these mirrors are tied together yet constantly changing; like the colorful patterns of a kaleidoscope, they appear as familiar but fluid representations.

CHAPTER 4 CONTINUITIES A large part of what makes Colette‘s writing fluid, like the continuous changes of colors and shapes involved in kaleidoscopic movement, is the connection between both the characters of a single work and the characters of entirely different novels. Her style itself ―explores the depths of our identities, which, in her work ―Serpents,‖ Colette calls a

‗nauseous chaos without beginning or end‘ ‖ (Kristeva 2). Thus, the individual identity of a character is not only reflected by the characters with whom he or she is surrounded but also present in these surrounding characters; the traits of one character are visible in the others. The chaos of this connection stems from the fact that such a link causes the lives and storylines of these people to be perpetually intertwined. As a result, the actions of one character ultimately, undoubtedly affect those of the others.

The strongest connection apparent in Chéri is, of course, that of Chéri himself and his older, nurturing lover Léa. While the age difference between the two characters is apparent, as Léa is forty-nine and Chéri only twenty-five, this in itself is not problematic; at the time, many other mature women take younger lovers, as suggested by the author‘s reference to old Lilli and her boyfriend. The tragedy inherent in Chéri and Léa‘s relationship is, instead, rooted in its incestuous nature. One must study their relationship itself in order to first understand the incestuous side of their companionship and the passage of Léa‘s traits onto Chéri.

At the end of the novel, as Chéri is quickly dressing in order to return to his young wife, Léa insists that this new relationship is preferable by underlining the difference between this youth and herself, ―Elle t‘aime: c‘est son tour de trembler, elle souffrira comme une amoureuse et non pas comme une maman dévoyée‖ (202). Here

the use of the term ―maman dévoyée‖ or ―perverted mother‖ suggests that Léa‘s love for

Chéri is inherently flawed; while she is in no way actually related to the young man, affection between the two is suggestive of incest both because of the childish way Chéri acts when he is with Léa and the overbearing care with which she treats him. Also, just before the two become romantically involved, their already close relationship is described as that of une ―amie trop familière, sorte de marraine-gâteau qu‘il tutoyait‖

(30). Here the addition of ―gâteau‖ onto godmother introduces the idea that Léa holds the power to spoil Chéri and does just that; this indulging of her young companion keeps Léa in the controlling position and gives Chéri the option of never growing up.

Cheri‘s childishness in Léa‘s presence is highlighted countless times and is apparent even in the opening scene of the novel. Instead of confidently or seductively approaching the large bed as one may imagine a lover to do, Chéri ―courut au lit, s‘y jeta en boule‖ (2). Here one imagines him curled up in the fetal position, hugging his knees like a young child talking to a parent. After this conversation, in the midst of an argument about whether or not he should wear a tie pin and a jacket at the same time –

Léa often has a say in Chéri‘s wardrobe choices – Chéri ―frappa du pied. ‗J‘en ai assez, personne ne s‘occupe de moi, ici! J‘en ai assez!‘‖ (12). Stamping his foot in frustration,

Chéri resembles a child throwing a temper tantrum and declaring not once but twice,‖j‘en ai assez!‖ Such repetition is similar to that of a toddler saying ―mom‖ as many times as necessary to earn her attention. Also adding to the image of Chéri as an aggravated child is the use of the verb ―s‘occuper.‖ Chéri implies that, like any other lover, he would like to be cared for, but, due to his frustrated tone, he suggests also that he would like to be taken care of and that he is Léa‘s responsibility.

This responsibility is fulfilled as the scene‘s conclusion is dominated by the image of Chéri standing limply as Léa physically prepares him to leave the house: ―Il se laissait faire, béat, mou, vacillant, repris d‘une paresse et d‘un plaisir qui lui fermaient les yeux… ‗Nounoune chérie …‘ murmura-t-il‖ (12).The fact that ―il se laissait faire‖ knowing perfectly well that he was able to get dressed on his own highlights the incestuous dependence in the lovers‘ relationship. The only aspect more problematic than Chéri‘s behavior itself is Léa‘s acceptance and support of his actions. One notes that, rather than complaining of his laziness, Léa seems to thrive on Chéri‘s neediness and enjoys her position over him. It becomes evident in the following scenes that Léa ―is secretly proud of their liaison, which she ‗sometimes in her weakness for the truth‘ refers to as

‗an adoption,‘ and she enjoys him best at his most insolent, for then she can exercise her ‗maternal, which is to say humiliating,‘ power to dominate him‖ (Thurman 287). The relationship of inequality, inverse of the conventional male-dominated household, which results from Léa‘s nurturing of Chéri, makes both his own development and their development together as a couple an impossibility. Chéri is unable to move from adolescence into manhood, as he is both monetarily and physically provided for by his lover, and is thus unable to attain an equal status in the relationship; the unequal rapport remains stagnant.

The absurdity of a lasting relationship between Léa and Chéri is highlighted as

Léa recollects their first romantic interaction. The narrative voice underscores its significance in the introduction, ―un soir de juin, qui rassemblait sous la serre de Neuilly

Mme Peloux, Léa et Chéri, changea les destins du jeune homme et de la femme mûre »

(30). The dramatic use of the phrase « changea les destins » stresses the importance of

the scene that is about to follow. Such a phrase foreshadows not only the love affair between Léa and Chéri but also highlights the seriousness of the affair. This type of

May-December romance, of which the older ladies speak several times during their evenings together, does not usually last for long or change the destinies of its participants. The juxtaposition of the adjectives ―jeune‖ and ―mûre‖ to describe Chéri and Léa respectively, suggests the difficulty of developing a lasting union.

Another problematic aspect of this scene, in which Chéri cuddles up to Léa like a child to its mother, is the forwardness of Chéri himself. After a demand that Léa kiss him, ― ‗Embrasse-moi, je te dis! ‘‖ which Chéri ―ordonnait, les sourcils joints, et l‘éclat de ses yeux soudain rouverts gêna Léa comme une lumière brusquement rallumée … Il noua ses bras au cou de Léa et la courba vers lui » (34). The image of Chéri cuddling in

Léa‘s lap is closer to that of a mother and her child than to that of a woman and her lover. One sees that Léa‘s initial attraction to Chéri is due to the neediness and bright innocent look in his eyes. His method of seduction is playful and pouty; it bears no resemblance to the usual captivating physical movements innate in a woman‘s allure and Léa is, therefore, taken aback. This unusual first embrace highlights the role reversal that will continue throughout the pair‘s relationship and solidifies the idea that

Chéri prefers to act as the playful youth, while Léa takes the role of parental figure.

The uneven relationship sparked by his needy, unusual seduction of this older woman creates not only an attachment to Léa but to her life and its ephemeral nature.

As noted by Kristeva, ―Colette‘s pen also targets the young man, morbidly attached to a false mother, excluded from time and, as a result, destined to die‖ (177). One realizes that Chéri‘s attachment to this ―false mother‖ is dangerous due to the fact that children

are supposed to outlive their mothers; the two are not meant to grow old together as many couples aim to do. Chéri‘s coupling with Léa, whose advanced age puts her closer to death, pushes Chéri toward an earlier death. Kristeva‘s observation that Chéri is ―excluded from time‖ underlines the idea that, by seducing and beginning an affair with Léa, he has jumped onto her timeline and placed himself in her older generation, thus skipping his youth, or bachelorhood, and shortening his lifespan.

Further indications of the incestuous and doomed nature of their relationship include the many different terms of endearment with which the lovers address each other. In the first scene, the pet name, ―nounoune,‖ used often by Chéri to either address or talk about Léa is introduced as one of many such titles. Such a name indicates that Chéri is deficient as an individual adult; he is in constant need of care from his ―nounoune.‖ Further underscoring the trope of Chéri as a spoiled child are the names with which Léa herself addresses him. Although his first name is Fred, Léa calls him affectionately Chéri, often accompanied by ―mon enfant‖ (12), ―mon petit‖ (54,

174), ―mon méchant‖ (174), ―ma beauté‖ (174), ―nourrisson méchant‖ (56, 176). Such terms of endearment reinforce the mother-child motif and highlight Léa‘s possession of and responsibility for Chéri.

At one point, when Chéri attempts to use a similar endearing nickname for Léa in explaining his pending marriage, ―‗tu comprends, ma chère‖ (52), he is flatly refused.

She does not wish for him to address her in the same way that she addresses him and insists, ―—Appelle-moi Madame, ou Léa. Je ne suis ni ta femme de chambre, ni un copain de ton âge.‖ (52). While Léa is obviously aware of Chéri‘s fond feelings for her, he is not allowed to express them in any way that may be too affectionate or possibly be

seen as patronizing. The relationship between the two is clearly uneven and leaves

Chéri powerless and Léa in control of the situation. Such an unequal bond highlights the idea that Chéri exists only as a part of Léa who ―had made a man of her cher grand in every respect except the most essential one: his ability to live without her‖ (Thurman

284). One notes that Chéri himself is incomplete, as he has grown in age but not in maturity due to Léa‘s confusing care as lover and mother at the same time.

However, though he is incomplete without Léa and eventually cannot go on without her care (as seen in Colette‘s later novel La Fin de Chéri), Chéri discovers that he is also unable to live with Léa. After his moving return to Léa‘s bedroom, Léa finally gives into and admits her strong feelings for Chéri and allows him onto her level. Such a role reversal is confusing and puts Chéri in a position of too much power, especially since part of the reason that he loves Léa is the idea that with her he need not grow up at all. This is evident near the end of the novel as he happily confides that, ―avec toi,

Nounoune, il y a des chances pour que j‘aie douze ans pendant un demi-siècle » (188).

It is clear that Chéri does love Léa but only as the combination of lover and mother figure to which he has become accustomed. Chéri is not used to being financially or emotionally responsible for himself let alone for another human being; he is normally the one who receives not the one who provides comfort and reassurance. Chéri enjoys this situation with Léa and, as his protective, nostalgic descriptions of their relationship indicate, misses it while he is with his young bride, Edmée. He thus views divorce from her not to be a regained singleness but ―la liberté, une sorte d‘enfance recouvrée,‖ which is, ―peut-être mieux encore‖ (122). We see, in the last phrase, that a constant

caretaker and lack of responsibility is more attractive to Chéri then complete freedom; it is more his carefree youth than his bachelorhood that he wishes to recover.

Thus the surrender of control that occurs when Léa becomes emotional in their last scene together is a breaking point for Chéri. Léa loses control of her emotions and

―in doing so, she loses Chéri. For the unspoken pact between the incestuous lovers is that the master-parent will hold on for both of them. Léa‘s submission, if only to her own hope for happiness, violates the deal‖ (Thurman 290). One notes that the unspoken arrangement between the couple becomes too difficult for Léa to uphold and that, in finally admitting her feelings for her young lover and offering him a position of equality in the partnership, she brings the relationship to its inevitable end.

As for the sharing of personality traits that becomes evident as Chéri makes his way into real adulthood, it is, like the aforementioned deal, one of inequality. Due to both the playful nature of their relationship together, the incestuous undertone of their partnership is obvious. Chéri‘s role as the nasty child and that of Léa as perverted mother is the reason behind the uneven continuity in their personalities; Léa passes her traits and behavior onto Chéri just as a mother passes habits onto her child yet fails to develop Chéri‘s traits. Léa‘s habits become evident in Chéri‘s behavior as he assumes the dominant role with his new young wife, Edmée. One notes that Chéri unquestioningly assumes the role as provider for his young wife, as his gifts from Léa have allowed him to save six years worth of income. It is not, therefore, surprising that while considering returning to his bride after fleeing to spend time with his old friend

Desmond, Chéri notes that Edmée ―est trop gentille, aussi, cette petite! … Je vais lui coller un de ces bracelets, quand je rentrerai….‖ (118). Here Chéri vows to recognize

his wife‘s kind behavior by giving her a gift of jewelry. Such a thought is unexpected, as during his relationship with Léa, Chéri ponders nothing but taking or receiving; she is the provider. Here, with Chéri‘s thoughts of gift giving, he has assumed Léa‘s dominant role in his rapport with his wife. Also notable is Chéri‘s use of the description ―cette petite,‖ which is usually reserved for Léa‘s descriptions of him.

A similar linguistic slippage (from Léa to Chéri) returns in a troubling conversation, during which Edmée speaks of the two as orphans. This comparison upsets Chéri – most likely due to the allusion to Léa as a mother figure who has abandoned her Chéri – and Edmée notices his uneasiness. Instead of calming him down and acting as the comforter, Edmée announces that she is worried, ―‗Chéri! Mon

Dieu, j‘ai peur … Qu‘est-ce que tu as?‖ and Chéri‘s response is instead the dominant one, ―Ah! ah! cette petite … cette petite … De quoi donc as-tu peur?‖ (96). One notes that Chéri has swapped roles in language and behavior. He is here the one able to call the other ―cette petite‖ and to, even if somewhat patronizingly, comfort her.

This behavior is evident again after Edmée admits to her jealousy of Chéri‘s former lover and begins to cry. Chéri attempts to calm her, ―Là . . . là. . . . Qu‘est-ce que c‘est. . . . Qu‘est-ce que c‘est donc . . . là. . .‖ (102). This manner of comforting closely resembles that of Léa when Chéri is upset; Chéri allows Edmée to act as the weaker of the two thereby assuming Léa‘s usual role of caretaker and Edmée that of the child. The opening scene in Léa‘s bedroom is reprised as Chéri ―parcourait du regard Edmée jetée de biais sur le canapé sec, et il n‘aimait pas que ce corps étendu, avec sa robe relevée, son écharpe déroulée, aggravât le désordre de la pièce‖ (102). Edmée, the picture of youth, sprawled out on the sofa-bed and Chéri, frustrated with her disorderliness and

trying to comfort her is a perfect parallel to the first scene in Léa‘s bedroom and, thus, highlights the passage of Léa‘s traits onto Chéri.

Also evident in this love triangle are the shared traits of the two women, which bring the continuity of character full circle; despite their different ages and situations, each is prone to eventually succumb to the emotion involved in a real love affair. The bond between Léa and Chéri as well as that between Edmée and Chéri is one of constant tension that causes each party to hurt one another. The relationship between the man and each woman ―holds itself together only through the war between the sexes. In the first place, as Kristeva has shown, there is almost no ‗duo‘ for Colette that is not at least a ‗trio‘‖ (295). All three characters are necessary for the others‘ relationship to really exist in the first place. After all, it is Léa that causes Edmée to stray from her usually calm demeanor and first become confrontational, ―elle tressaillait à chaque mot et chaque pîqure l‘éveillait pour le duel de femelle à male‖ (106). Here, attempting only to assure her own happiness in marriage, she first causes a fight with

Chéri then breaks down when he becomes frighteningly angry. Such an outburst is rare for Edmée who is described by her mother-in-law, Madame Paloux, as having ―une manière de donner des ordres sans élever la voix, d‘accepter les boutades de Chéri, d‘avaler les couleuvres comme si c‘était du lait sucré …‖ (152). This description insists on Edmée‘s even temperament and ability to brush off her husband‘s negative comments linking her to Léa, who often composedly argues points with Chéri.

Usually the model of calm, Léa ultimately lets her guard down with Chéri. The same type of duel between male and female lovers is portrayed at the end of the novel, as Léa acts more like young, unguarded Edmée than herself. She allows Chéri to see

her blush and cry after beginning to shake just as Edmée did, ―elle ne voulut pas trembler encore‖ (190). This break of character is unappreciated by Chéri, who instead of consoling her as he did Edmée, asks ―‗S‘il nous faut finir, vas-tu pour cela ressembler aux autres femmes? …‘‖ (194). Here he wishes for Léa to remain special in her ability to handle passionate situations calmly, without sinking to the catty, angry level of other bourgeois women. However, while Edmée‘s similar descent into emotional behavior is acceptable to Chéri, that of Léa is pivotal and ends their affair. Despite the differing endings, the link between the two women is evident in their behavior and in their shared beloved.

Finally, in order to highlight the impossibility of a full life together for Léa and

Chéri, the character of ―la vieille Lili‖ is introduced. A hefty woman, she is comically introduced by Léa, who asks whether Chéri was really seen at the bar sitting on her knees. His response, ―—Ses genoux! … Y a longtemps qu‘elle n‘en a plus, de genoux!

Ils sont noyés‖ (30) – mocks Lili‘s physical appearance as well as the possibility of a young man such as himself being attracted to her. Lili‘s body, more specifically her weight – which is already linked to Léa‘s, who notes that she, herself, would benefit from dieting – is mocked again during the discussion of her new relationship with the young Ceste heir, ―—Ah voilà. La vieille Lili vient de s‘abattre de tout son poids sur le cadet Ceste, qui a dix-sept ans et des sentiments pieux…. (62). The punning use of

―tout son poids‖ to describe how deeply in love Lili has fallen is indicative of the wicked humor used by society to view such an uneven May-December romance.

Less humoristic is Léa‘s own take on the partnership: ― ‗C‘est effroyable‘ pensa

Léa. Elle ne pouvait détacher son regard de quelque detail particulièrement sinistre, le

‗breton‘ de feutre blanc par exemple …‖ (70). In this instance Léa judges and hates in

Lili only what she fears to become; she is not disgusted by the coupling as Chéri and the others seem to be but, instead, thinks it ―effroyable.‖ Thus, one notes that she fears giving into her feelings for Chéri and becoming like Lili. Such a strong link between the two couples and between Léa and Lili in particular demands that the two be compared.

This comparison of each partnership‘s behavior, views, and language leads Thurman to the conclusion that ―the sordid, gaga old Lili and her semi-catatonic princeling are presented as a grotesque parody of Chéri and Léa—and a foreshadowing of what their love affair might become‖ (283). Léa‘s character, established by Colette to be strong, proud, and willing to renounce physical pleasures in due time, is not willing to become a joke like Lili. Both her link to and disdain for the coupling of Lili and her young lover foreshadows the dissolution of Léa and Chéri‘s relationship.

Crary notes that in Baudelaire‘s ―Le peintre de la vie moderne‖ (1863) the use of the kaleidoscope as a figure that ―coincided with modernity itself … in his text it figured as a machine for the disintegration of a unitary subjectivity and for the scattering of desire into new shifting and labile (apt or likely to change) arrangements, by fragmenting any point of iconicity and disrupting stasis‖ (114). In a similar fashion, the continuity or connectivity in Colette‘s writing comes partially from the scattering of personality traits that, while they appear in characters of the same novel, appear also in that of entirely different stories. Such is the case when one considers the similarities between Léa and Gigi‘s aunts, between Chéri’s and Gigi‘s protagonists Léa and Gigi respectively, between Gigi and Chéri, and finally between Gigi and Chéri‘s young bride

Edmée.

Both Chéri and Gigi rely on dialogue rather than action to push the story forward and to develop the characters. These stories‘ important scenes of dialogue have, of course, differing subjects but often resemble each other. Conversations between Léa and her ex-courtesan friends invoke the discussions between Gigi‘s grandmother, Madame

Alvarez, and Gigi‘s Aunt Alicia and vice-versa. The continuity of character that exists is, thus, evident due less to their similar, augmenting ages and more to their several multiple shared philosophies on life and love.

While it is not the most important link between the three aging women, age is the aspect of their characters that solidly links them at first glance. Léa‘s forty-nine years are mentioned and her aging is evident in the care that she takes to hide it. This care often involves certain color choices for wardrobe, jewelry selections, and, above all, application of make-up. Léa is, until she lets her guard down at the end of the tale, always concerned with having her face powdered in the morning before anyone sees her. The morning of their last scene in the book describes this absence of powder as quite troubling for Chéri who, before Léa has made herself up, sees her ―Pas encore poudrée, une maigre torsade de cheveux sur la nuque, le menton double et le cou dévasté‖ (174). This negative and harsh description suggests that Chéri is seeing his lover in a new, disturbing way. Use of the adjective ―dévasté‖ suggests that Léa‘s natural appearance is different enough that it shakes up her whole image. Also indicative of the fact that Léa normally does not go without her powder is Chéri‘s reaction of relief when she returns all made up, ―il constata avec gratitude qu‘en quelque minutes Léa s‘était coiffée, délicatement fardée, imprégnée du parfum familier‖

(174). The narrative voice indicates Chéri‘s relief due to the addition of ―avec gratitude.‖

Also important is the idea that Léa has been ―imprégnée‖ by her sprays of perfume. One sees that without this makeup and scent Léa is somehow incomplete in Chéri‘s eyes and needs to be filled in order to become ―familiar‖ once again.

The link between Léa and Gigi‘s grandmother is evident as, just like Léa, Mme

Alvarez is associated with her powder. Colette‘s description of her – ―Elle usait de poudre trop blanche, le poids de ses joues lui tirait un peu la paupière inférieure, si bien qu‘elle avait fini par se prénommer Inès‖ (437) – associates her with a Spanish background. Mme Alvarez‘s image is also changed by her application of powder.

Though her powder is too thick and too white, its necessity highlights Mme Alvarez‘s age. The link between her overbearing powder and her false Spanish name accentuates the power of her previous love affairs; their impact was enough to theoretically change her heritage!

As for the stronger personality links, it can first be noted that Léa, Mme Alvarez, and Aunt Alicia each adhere tightly to the rules of polite conduct that they have learned from courtesan society. This self control is shown in matters of hygiene, dress, table manners, etc., and appears as strictness when each attempts to teach it to their younger dependants. The concomitant absence of common moral rules such as abstaining from intercourse until marriage and refraining from cruel gossip is also shared by all three women and becomes even more obvious when it is juxtaposed with their strict obedience to a courtesan code of honor.

In her chapter about the creation and content of Chéri, Thurman discusses many of

Léa‘s rules as she highlights the similarities between Léa and Colette‘s actual mother,

Sido. Thurman mentions ―Léa‘s obsession with Chéri‘s diet (‗Stick out your tongue!‘), the high standards of her housekeeping, her benevolent tyranny, her candor, her provincial common sense, her repugnance for ugliness and old age…‖ (283-284) as some of the characteristics of Colette‘s own mother revealed through Léa‘s behavior. All of the qualities mentioned are indicative of a strict figure, as Thurman begins the elements of the descriptions with the harsh words, ―obsession,‖ ―high standards,‖

―benevolent,‖ ―repugnance,‖ and so forth.

In the text itself one notes that Léa is most meticulous when Chéri is gone; this behavior is evident, for example after Chéri and Léa‘s first scene in her bedroom. Upon

Chéri‘s exit she first carefully chooses an outfit to wear for the afternoon but refuses buttoned boots that cause her ankles to appear too swollen. After this meticulous choice

Léa continues preparing her afternoon as, now alone, she

redevint vive, précise, allégée. En moins d'une heure, elle fut baignée, frottée d'alcool parfumé au santal, coiffée, chaussée. Pendant que le fer à friser chauffait, elle trouva le temps d‘éplucher le livre de comptes du maître d‘hôtel, d‘appeler le valet de chambre Émile pour lui montrer, sur un miroir, une buée bleue. Elle darda autour d‘elle un œil d‘assurer, qu‘on ne trompait presque jamais… (18). Such a description of Léa‘s burst of precise activity, which names six different types of preparation of herself and her apartment and one general ―coup d‘œil‖ around the room to make sure that everything is in order in only three sentences, highlights the idea that Léa is following a routine. The quickness and surety of her actions suggest that she often readies herself in the same order, with the same products, following the same rules. Her application of the ―alcool perfumé au santal‖ shows that such rules are personal and feminine, while her instruction to the footman to clean the ―buée bleue‖

that appears on one of the mirrors shows that she expects each member of the household to value the same cleanliness. The strict set of rules by which Léa lives must therefore be followed by everyone who enters her life and her home.

The same firm codes of dress and cleanliness are followed and insisted upon by

Mme Alvarez and Aunt Alicia. In her chapter concerning Gigi and Colette‘s later works of fiction, Stewart remarks that, in Gigi, ―the constant source of humor is the contrast between her family‘s consecrated moral laxity, on the one hand, and on the other its rigid adherence to established codes, unvarying confidence in the reliability of signs, and enforcement of principles of order cleanliness and ‗correct‘ behavior‘‖ (78). This description of the two women resembles that of Thurman for Léa in its firm adjectives,

―rigid,‖ ―established,‖ ―unvarying,‖ ―enforcement,‖ etc. and points out the similarities between the three perfectionistic characters.

Just as they are in Chéri, textual examples of the ladies‘ rigidity are numerous. As caretakers of a girl of nearly sixteen years old Mme Alvarez and her sister often find themselves involved in discussions of dress. Young Gigi asks to wear her hair and skirts differently and is refused by her grandmother, who insists that girls of her age must conform to specific rules for each or else appear ridiculous. Such a situation is discussed when Gigi mentions a friend with whom she is no longer allowed to have tea,

Lydie, due to her wearing a solitaire ring. Like Aunt Alicia, who spoke of her many standards for jewelry and gemstones, her sister has rules for these as well. Mme

Alvarez believes that a young girl should have to wait for such jewelry, as shown by her response to Gigi‘s description of the ring, ―Un solitaire! S‘était écriée Mme Alvarez. Une fille de quinze ans! Je pense que sa mère est folle‖ (440). This reaction shows that

Gigi‘s grandmother judges others according to her standards of dress and behavior; she believes that there is no other choice but to follow her specific rules.

The same type of response is given when Gigi asks to wear her everyday coat on a

Sunday visit to her Aunt Alicia‘s. Even though she is only going to stop in at a close relative‘s house, Mme Alvarez insists that Gigi sport her Sunday best: ―À quoi saurait- on que c‘est dimanche alors? Mets ton manteau uni et ton canotier bleu marine. Quand auras-tu le sens de ce qui convient ? ‖ (437). The fact that her orders appear in the form of questions shows that Madame Alvarez is convinced of the importance and correctness of the rules of dress to be followed. She equates wearing a certain coat on

Sunday with ―ce qui convient‖ and therefore suggests that choosing outerwear is a question of good morals and doing the right thing.

Aside from their adherence to and promotion of certain behavioral codes, Léa, Mme

Alvarez, and Aunt Alicia share a concern with their reputations and with the opinions of popular society as a whole. Léa worries about becoming like Lili because of the comments made by the rest of her peers and, thus, obviously takes their opinions to heart. She also invents a love affair as her excuse for going away while Chéri is on his honeymoon to ensure that Madame Paloux and the other ladies gossip and guess about this instead of her relationship with Chéri, which is Léa‘s real concern.

Just as Léa pays close attention to Madame Paloux and the rest of high society‘s opinions of her, Madame Alverez values reputation more than truth. When her daughter disputes the extraordinary nature of Liane (Gaston‘s former mistress), Mme Alvarez argues that ―– Si… elle est extraordinaire. La preuve, c‘est qu‘elle a une renommée

pareille. La renommée et le succès, ce n‘est pas un effet du hasard‖ (448). Here it is obvious that Mme Alvarez values reputation, and believes that a person must be remarkable in order to dominate the social scene and to have a photo in the paper.

Even though she cannot name a single characteristic, action, or achievement that makes Liane extraordinary, Mme Alvarez believes it must be so.

Similarly, when Alicia is ashamed of Gigi‘s negative and violent reaction to Gaston‘s offer and suggests that she is a spoiled brat, Mme Alvarez responds, ― Une jeune fille qui a fixé l‘attention de M. Lachaille n‘est pas une petite punaise ‖ (472). Just as Mme

Alvarez feels that society is powerful enough to decide who is extraordinary without giving any reason, she feels that a man as rich and powerful as M. Gaston Lachaille knows how to pick an extraordinary love interest. In denying that Gigi is acting bratty,

Mme Alvarez does not refer to Gigi‘s behavior or her ideas nor does she mention that

Gigi has been put in an awkward situation. The fact that Gaston is so taken by Gigi is enough, according to Mme Alvarez, to prove that she is not ―une petite punaise,‖ as he is a man of influence and wealth.

Léa and Gigi invoke one another‘s scenes primarily because of their protagonist status; each is the leading lady in their work‘s main plot line, their love story. While the two have vastly different ages and experience levels, each is set in her ways and confident in her actions. One may imagine that it would be hard for a teenage character such as Gigi to keep up with a knowledgeable, middle-aged woman like Léa but their wills are carried out with an almost equal amount of vigor. In her chapter, ―Life or

Works?‖, which explores the similarities between Colette‘s life and writing, Kristeva talks about Gigi‘s character as the perfection of Claudine, Colette‘s earliest young

protagonist. Kristeva notes that ―in Gigi the vaudeville gave way to a warm fascination with the character of a young lady, astonishingly mature in her chaste love… The writer projected into it her innocent and depraved youth… Colette had decidedly not yet said everything or, rather, she had reached her cruising speed‖ (71). Gigi is, thus, recognized as written with the same confidence that Colette, herself, possesses at the time. Though she is infused with both the ―innocence‖ of her tomboyish, blunt attitude and the ―depravity‖ of the moral laxity practiced in her household, Gigi, like Léa, is a strong and complete character.

The worldviews of these protagonists are similar due to the fact that each has been schooled on societal rules of dress and conduct. At the beginning of both stories, Léa and Gigi seem content to live from liaison to liaison; even young Gigi, ―seems to understand this sexual but nonmarital system of exchange‖ (Stewart 78). Their taste in dress and décor has also been similarly trained, as Léa‘s knowledge of which colors look best on women of certain ages is matched by Gigi‘s education on jewelry. One learns that, ―Dès sa douzième année, Gigi savait que le gros rang de perles noires de

Mme Otero était ―trempé‖, c‘est-à-dire teint artificiellement, mais que son collier à trois rangs étagés valait ―un royaume‖ (16) … ‖ It is evident here that Gigi has been taught not only the value of real jewelry and gemstones but also of the people with whom such baubles are associated. She has honed survival skills like Léa, in the midst of a society where reputation and family name often take the place of real value.

The two leads are also faced with similar situations; each is trying to conceal aspects of herself from the outside world. Léa‘s attempts at hiding her wrinkled neck and imperfect skin involve her refusal of pearls and meticulous application of powder.

Each morning her age threatens to show itself to Léa‘s lover and each evening it could be recognized by her friends at Madame Paloux‘s. Gigi‘s attempts to hide are much more comical, as she attempts to conceal her ripening sexual eligibility and, literally, her private parts. Stewart sees Gigi‘s attempt to mature as a battle against her grandmother. ―Custodian of language and sexual knowledge, her grandmother adopts a strategy that makes the female space a linguistic absence. But Gigi‘s sex is constantly on the verge of surfacing, and every other consideration is measured according to it‖

(80). Here one notes that Gigi‘s sex refers not only to what is beneath her short skirts but also to her sexual maturity and ability to take on a first love affair. In the text, one notes that it is Gigi‘s caretakers who concern themselves with her budding romantic eligibility, while Gigi is left to constantly worry about showing her private parts. She argues with her grandmother, ―– Si, dit Gilberte. Qu‘on me fasse des jupes un peu plus longues, que je ne sois pas tout le temps pliée en Z, dès que je m‘assois. Tu comprends, grand-mère tout le temps il faut que je pense à mon ce-que-je-pense, avec mes jupes trop courtes‖ (436). One understands that Gigi is constantly thinking about her private areas being exposed while, at the same time, folding herself into a pretzel to stop it from happening! Like Léa‘s morning powder application, Gigi‘s sitting positions and constant battles with her hemlines become routine, as one notes when she decides to confront Gaston and discuss his offer; ―Elle tira machinalement sa jupe, assura la boucle de sa ceinture et marcha jusqu‘à Gaston‖ (476). Here, the adverb

―machinalement‖ shows that Gigi‘s attention to her skirt is constant and almost robotic, as she adjusts it without thinking.

Finally both Léa and Gigi are presented with the opportunity for true love and are left to attempt to conquer it. At first, Léa and Gigi come to a point where they refuse romantic love. Each fears the pain that is associated with their respective love affairs and prefers to live contentedly. Such an attempt mirrors that of Colette herself who affirms, as noted by Stewart in the opening of her study, ―‗I believe … that there are occupations more urgent, and more honorable, that that unequaled waste of time we call suffering‘‖ (2-3). Like Colette, her characters try to avoid embarrassment and heartbreak; they choose to replace relationships with tangible objects.

Léa, who has actually experienced physical love, decides that it is no longer necessary. As Thurman notes in her discussion of Léa‘s character, ―She has a brief last fling with a gigolo, then returns home determined to renounce the pleasures of la chair fraîche‖ (288). Thus, upon returning from her trip to the south, which was meant to distract her from the fact that Chéri was on his honeymoon with young Edmée, Léa has decided to completely change her lifestyle and to give up the sensual side of herself that exists so naturally. She believes that rather than become a comical old cougar, she should embrace the fine things with which she is surrounded. She tells herself, ―Pouah!

Adieu tout, c‘est plus propre. Allons acheter des cartes à jouer du bon vin, des marques de bridge, des aiguilles à tricoter tous les bibelots qu‘il faut pour boucher un grand trou, tout ce qu‘il faut pour déguiser le monstre – la vieille femme‖ (140). Here Léa wishes to avoid becoming a laughable old woman who still attempts to be young and to find love; rather than search out emotional or physical connection, she vows that good wine, bridge games, and knitting will keep her occupied and perhaps satisfied.

While she doesn‘t wish to conceal old age, Gigi also wishes to avoid scandal and criticism. She realizes that becoming Gaston‘s mistress puts her inevitably in the negative position of all his former flings; the two will necessarily break up and she will have to be in all of the papers, become the topic of courtesan conversation, and

―commit suicide‖. Rather than suffer this embarrassment, Gigi suggests to Gaston almost exactly what Léa suggests to herself, ―Vous viendriez ici comme d‘habitude, même plus souvent … Vous m‘apporteriez des réglisses, du champagne pour ma fête, le dimanche on ferait un piquet monstre… est-ce que ce n‘est pas une bonne petite vie?‖ (471). By asking Gaston to come spend time with her and to develop their platonic relationship, Gigi is renouncing the same sensuality and physicality as Léa but without ever having known it. The more striking similarity between their decisions is evident in the objects that are chosen to replace physical love. Léa and Gigi both suggest that alcohol, ―bon vin‖ and ―champagne‖, and parlor games, ―bridge‖ and ―piquet‖ respectively, can replace the existence of a romantic physical bond.

Léa and Gigi both choose a platonic, ―bonne petite vie‖ over romantic satisfaction but both succumb to the temptations of true love. The ending of Léa‘s tale is bittersweet, as after giving into her feelings of true love for Chéri she must set him free, while the ending of Gigi‘s story is one of only two happy endings that appear in Colette‘s works

(Kristeva 335). Each woman lets her guard down and makes an attempt to be truly happy. While true love is discussed and does exist between Léa and Chéri, it is doomed by their age difference. The happy ending in Gigi is preceded by struggle as is Léa‘s, however,―In Gigi … true love is tested, but it triumphs‖ (Thurman 458).

The traits and situations shared by Gigi and Chéri are most evident when the characters are considered within their relationships. The coupling of not quite sixteen- year old Gigi and thirty-one year old Gaston is one of significant age difference much like that of twenty-five year old Chéri and forty-nine year old Léa. While such May-

December romances were not uncommon at the time, the suggested incestuous nature of the two relationships causes them to stand out. First one notes that the budding relationship between Gigi and family friend Gaston Lachaille resembles that of the relationship between Chéri and Léa in which he assumes the role of naughty child and she assumes the role of perverted mother.

Chéri and Gigi both appear as the more innocent half of their pairings, as each is constantly receiving instruction. Chéri receives advice on dress and relationships from

Léa both in the first scene and while the two are discussing his upcoming nuptials; Chéri seems not to know much on either subject, as he tries to clutter his appearance with

―encore une perle‖ (14) and has no idea what will be required for Edmée‘s care. Gigi is obviously constantly in need of instruction from her grandmother and Aunt Alicia and is painted, in several scenes, as being innocent, even doe-eyed. For example, just after her lesson on gemstones Gigi is told that her breast size is just fine, provided she avoids fattening almonds, and that she will next have to learn to choose fine cigars. She reacts to these quick and random etiquette lessons with a questioning stare and innocent confusion, ―Gilberte ouvrit si grands ses yeux que les pointes de ses cils touchèrent ses sourcils : ‗Pourquoi ?‘‖ (461). The comical image created by this descriptive phrase speaks volumes. Gigi‘s wide open eyes and attention to instruction show that she, like Chéri, is in need of growth and tutoring.

Both Chéri and Gigi learn about love from their lovers, whether actual or, in the case of Gigi, potential. For Gigi the suggested incest of her partnership is evident in her longtime fond thoughts of Gaston. Stewart remarks that the heir and sugar tycoon,

Gaston Lachaille‘s ―early relation to Gigi is avuncular, and the familiar French word for

‗uncle‘ that she uses to address him (‗Tonton‘) even resonates with his name. This surrogate uncle eventually tries to withdraw from this role and become a lover‖ (79).

Here one sees that Tonton Gaston behaves like Gigi‘s uncle by taking part in games, lending out his car, and letting her relax in his presence. Gigi herself feels at ease around Gaston and feels no need to act as if she is in the presence of a powerful possible suitor. While preparing to go out on the town with Gaston, Gigi is urged to look her best and wonders why she must appear put together, ― – Aux yeux de qui, grand- mère? Tu m‘avoueras que pour un vieil ami comme tonton on n‘a pas besoin de se décarcasser ! » (463). Here the young object of affection sees no need to primp as a mistress would do for her new lover.

Gigi‘s comfort in Gaston‘s presence is evident also in the way that she speaks to him. When he criticizes her dress, Gigi responds to Gaston in a snarky, honest way, ―

‗J‘ai beaucoup entendu parler de vous, tonton, répliqua-t-elle, mais je n‘ai jamais entendu dire qu‘en fait de toilette vous aviez du goût ‖ (462). Here Gigi defends her choice of dress and does not take polite conversation into consideration; she makes an effort neither to sugarcoat her response nor to please Gaston by changing her outfit.

One notes that this rude comment might not even be allowed between Gigi and her

Aunt Alicia and that she feels more comfortable with Gaston.

The amicable relationship that has developed during Gaston‘s visits to the family home is equally appreciated and acknowledged by Gaston himself. While trying to convince her grandmother of his ability to care for Gigi as a mistress, Gaston alludes to their close connection. Mme Alvarez tells her sister, ―Puisqu‘il a dit qu‘il voulait garantir

Gigi contre tous les ennuis, et même contre lui-même, par une assurance, qu‘il était un peu comme son parrain ‖ (467). It is clear that Gaston understands his caretaking role of godfather for young Gigi, thereby accepting the suggested incestuous nature of a love affair between the two of them.

The suggested incestuous side of a romantic relationship between Gigi and the man to whom she refers as Tonton or ―uncle‖ Gaston is also highlighted in each character‘s language. Aside from the obvious references to Gaston as ―Tonton‖ and Parrain‖, one notes that Gaston refers to Gigi using familiar pet names just as Léa refers to Chéri as her child. Gaston‘s first appearance in the story already shows his fondness for Gigi but shows also the inequality of their relationship; Gaston plays the role of giver while Gigi acts as the greedy child.

After Mme Alvarez scolds Gigi for greedily asking Gaston to replace the licorice that he ate and to bet various sweets on a game of piquet, she goes on to forbid such impolite behavior and scrunched up leg positioning. Gaston comes to Gigi‘s rescue and seems to recognize her childish innocence. He does not see her gutsy betting as rude and is not bothered by her unladylike posture. He asks of Mme Alvarez, ―Laissez-la, cette petite. Ici je respire. Je me repose… Gigi je te joue dix kilos de sucre‖ (443). By protecting her and by using ―cette petite‖ to describe Gigi, Gaston shows fatherly or avuncular care.

In the aforementioned scene from Gigi and in several from Chéri, Gigi and Chéri are each the younger of the partners and, thus, seem immature in their actions and comments. Chéri throws himself onto Léa‘s big brass bed and asks for pearls and care during their opening scene, recalling a similar episode between Gigi and Gaston. Upon returning from her short visit to Aunt Alicia‘s in Gaston‘s car, Gigi sloppily plops down in front of this familiar friend and makes herself comfortable before continuing their conversation. These motions are described frankly with, ―Elle jeta au loin son chapeau, ses cheveux empiétèrent sur ses tempes et ses joues. Elle s‘assit sur un tabouret assez haut et remonta ses genoux jusqu‘à son menton‖ (443). The image of Gigi throwing down her hat just as Chéri has thrown down his body and hugging her knees to her chest just as Chéri does when he assumes the fetal position, paints the two characters as equally immature and carefree.

The similarity between the characters of Gigi and Edmée are obvious first due to their position as the youngest females in their respective stories. The passionate and emotional responses associated with each teenager are typical while each has gumption and openness not always associated with young girls. Gigi‘s response to

Gaston‘s offer to be his mistress is emotionally loaded and borderline violent. Both her age and her feelings for Gaston are evident, ― Elle éclata en sanglots violents qui firent autant de bruit qu‘une quinte de toux. Gaston la ceignit de ses bras pour l‘incliner vers lui comme une branche, mais elle lui échappa et se réfugia entre le piano et le mur‖

(472). By describing her tears as ―sanglots violents‖ that are accompanied by as much noise as a ―quinte de toux‖ Colette shows that Gigi has not held her cool as her grandmother and aunt would have liked and that her reaction has become as out of

control as a patient‘s deep cough. Gigi refuses to hide in her room and cry quietly or

―commit suicide‖ as Gaston‘s other love interests have done but also refuses his efforts to comfort her.

Though she eventually welcomes Chéri‘s comforting words and caresses, Edmée reacts in the same violent way while fighting with him about his ongoing love for Léa. In this scene, ―Toute la jeune force amoureuse et mal disciplinée d‘Edmée creva en cris, en larmes, en gestes des mains tordues ou ouvertes pour griffer: ‗Va-t‘en! je te déteste!

Tu ne m‘as jamais aimée!‖ (100). One notes that Edmée‘s reaction is just as violent and uncontrolled as Gigi‘s. Colette‘s description of Edmée‘s gestures as preparing her to scratch (―griffer‖) suggest that her outburst is uncontrolled, even animalistic. Her use of quick instults like ―‗je te déteste‘ highlights the idea that Gigi has sunk to the level of a child who screams this at whoever is denying her wish.

While their outbursts highlight the young, full emotions of Gigi and Edmée, each is also portrayed as strong and wise beyond her years. At the end of Gigi when she is willing to put herself at risk in order to spend time with her beloved Tonton Gaston, ―

‗J‘ai réfléchi que j‘aimais mieux être malheureuse avec vous que sans vous. Alors…‘‖

(476). Gigi shows her gusty nature both in risking her reputation and in demanding to be heard. When Gigi‘s offer is answered with a marriage proposal, her wisdom and knowledge of true love is shown as deeper than that of anyone else in the room.

Though Edmée accepts many of Chéri‘s faults and does as her family wishes, she is also shown to be strong and smart. In her chapter about Chéri, Thurman dedicates a page to discussion of the importance of Edmée‘s character. She observes that ―Marie-

Laure‘s daughter is no stranger to the cruel games of love. She plays her weak hand aplomb, and she has a hidden reserve of mettle‖ (289). It is obvious that despite her role as the youngest Chéri‘s female characters, Edmée is not the weakest.

Despite their ―mettle,‖ Gigi and Edmée often remind the reader of one another when their feelings and wishes are ignored. When Gaston wishes to begin a liaison with Gigi he approaches her grandmother instead of Gigi herself; she is given a loose description of what will occur despite the fact that she knows that such a relationship will result in her having to share Gaston‘s bed and fame. Edmée is painted as just as unimportant when Léa and Chéri discuss her presence on her own honeymoon. When Chéri insists that the honeymoon will be a pleasant vacation and Léa forces him to realize that

Edmée will be in attendance, Chéri admits that, ―‗—bien sûr il y a elle. Il n‘y a pas beaucoup elle, mais il y a elle‘‖ (66). By stating that Edmée's presence is unimportant even on her own honeymoon, (― il n‘y a pas beaucoup elle‖), Chéri shows that her status as a young bride does not earn her much, if any, respect from society.

Together with these shared personality traits, scenes with Gigi invoke those of

Edmée and vice-versa due to a shared physical trait, unruly blond curls. Gigi‘s curls are often mentioned as falling into her eyes and seemingly have a mind of their own. Their power is highlighted in the opening scene where Mme Alvarez is trying to tame and style her granddaughter‘s hair into submission. These wild locks are also trademark; they are associated with Gigi and shown to be one way in which her often absent mother, Andrée Alvar, recognizes her. When Andrée returns from work and peeks in at her sleeping daughter she notes her big blond hair, ―Elle n‘entrevit de Gilberte, dans la pénombre, qu‘un buisson de cheveux et le galon russe d‘une chemise de nuit‖ (449).

Whereas a mother would normally take the time to look at her child‘s sleeping figure or face, Andrée is satisfied identifying Gigi by her bushy blond hair.

CHAPTER 5 CONCLUSION In my thesis, I have sought to underscore the kaleidoscopic nature of Colette‘s two novels, Chéri and Gigi. The kaleidoscope functions as a metaphor for the colors and specular movements in the texts.

When one examines the etymology of the word kaleidoscope, one finds the following: ―Kaleidoscope 1817, lit.‖observer of beautiful forms," coined by its inventor,

Sir David Brewster (1781-1868), from Gk. kalos "beautiful" + eidos "shape" (see -oid) + - scope, on model of telescope, etc. Figurative meaning "constantly changing pattern" is first attested 1819 in Lord Byron, whose publisher had sent him one‖ (Online Etymology

Dictionary, ―Kaleidoscope‖). The presence of constantly changing beautiful forms and shapes is, thus, combined with the idea of ―observer,‖ as beauty can only be identified when one actively sees or ―observes‖ it. Like the viewing of a kaleidoscope, studies of

Colette‘s works must, therefore, be done by an active and engaged reader.

One such reader, Julia Kristeva, recognizes the structural aspects of Colette‘s writing that resemble those of a kaleidoscope. Color, mirrors, and patterns only become powerful once they are put to use and considered as a whole experience. Kristeva notes that ―The metaphysical dichotomy between ‗abstract‘ and ‗concrete,‘ ‗meaning‘ and ‗matter,‘ ‗being‘ and existence,‘ dissolves in her experiences and her reflections‘

(422). Colette‘s stories jump from the paper and their plotline becomes an experience that causes the reader to recall other, similar experiences in which color and light combinations allowed them to view the same vibrations between the contrasting tones.

The connectivity in her writing shows an ability to cause one colored, reflected description of a character or scene to invoke others like it. Such invocation is present in

Colette‘s plotlines; certain scenes and characters from Chéri and Gigi cause the reader to automatically think of other, similar scenes and characters; the connections are felt not only within the individual novels but between them. These continuities between the subjects, scenes, and sentiments of these two works are, thus, part of the larger body that Colette has created. With their colors, reflective surfaces and characters, and intertwined personalities Chéri and Gigi exist perfectly in Colette‘s kaleidoscope

WORKS CITED

Baker,Cozy. 1999. Print. Kaleidoscope Artistry. Lafayette, Calif.: C & T Pub., 2002. Print. Chevreul, M.E. The Principles of Harmony and Contrast of Colors and Their Application to the Arts. Trans. Faber Birren. West Chester: Schiffer, 1987. Print. Colette. Chéri. Trans. Stanley Appelbaum. Mineola: Dover Publications, 2001. Print. Colette. Gigi. Oeuvres. Vol. IV. Paris: Gallimard, 2001. 433-76. Print. Colette, Three Short Novels. Trans. New York: Farrar, Straus and Young, 1952. Print. Crary, Jonathan. Techniques of the Observer. Cambridge: MIT, 1990. Print. "kaleidoscope." The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. 05 May. 2010. .

―kaleidoscope." Online Etymology Dictionary. Douglas Harper, Historian. 21 Mar. 2010. . Kristeva, Julia. Trans. Jane Marie Todd. Colette. New York: Columbia UP, 2004. Print. Stewart, Joan Hinde. Colette. Boston: Twayne, 1983. Print. Thurman, Judith. Secrets of the Flesh. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1999. Print.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Courtney Keady holds a Bachelor of Arts in French and in mathematics from

Saint Norbert College in DePere, WI. She received the French Department award in

2007 after studying at L‘Université Catholique de Lille in Lille, France.

Keady was a member and captain of the Saint Norbert women‘s swim team and received Academic All-Conference awards in 2004-2007. During her graduate study at the University of Florida, Keady worked as a teaching assistant for beginning French and played for the UF water polo team.

During the 2010-2011 school year, Keady will work for the French Embassy, teaching English at one of the Académie de Nice elementary schools.