Soon after meeting Radiguet for the first time, Cocteau determined to draw out of his poems the precepts that lay behind them. Cocteau’s verse had tended be richer, more dynamic, than Radiguet’s, though the more time they spent together, the more they began to see eye-to-eye over the direction “modern” poetry should take. Radiguet became involved with Cocteau’s new anti-Dadaist review Le Coq, which contained contributions from Erik Satie and Georges Auric, among others. With its varied typography and disparate statements of intent, it resembled a Vorticist manifesto in everything but belief: “Return to poetry. Disappearance of the skyscraper. Reappearance of the rose.” Radiguet wanted most of all to move forward by looking back beyond the concrete poetry of Apollinaire, which he had formerly admired, and embrace poetic clarity with new vigour. It was an aim he broadly succeeded in.
His most important contribution, however, remains his prose, which he turned to exclusively from 1921. If Radiguet was happy because Cocteau now gave him the space and support he needed to write at length, then his parents were less so. Cocteau found himself compelled to write letters of assurance to Radiguet’s father, explaining that nothing inappropriate was going on; during their writing holidays, they would sleep in separate hotel rooms.
There is no doubt that Cocteau felt an intense sexual attraction to Radiguet, whose sprezzatura and magnetism are obvious from the portraits which Modigliani and Man Ray made of him. But what, if anything, Radiguet felt for Cocteau is harder to gauge. At least until the publication of the first novel, he did little to discourage him. Convinced of Radiguet’s genius, Cocteau poured everything into publicising him, introducing him to his writer and artist friends, helping him to secure a publication contract with Bernard Grasset, founder of the eponymous publishing house, and igniting the attention of the press. Naturally, they could not help but to be mesmerised by the enfant terrible. The Devil in the Flesh sold 46,000 copies in the first month of publication, and was awarded Le Prix du Nouveau Monde.
Cocteau once said that Radiguet was so hard that “it would take a diamond to scratch his heart”. Given the way Radiguet behaved following his first flush of success, one can well believe him. It was not that Radiguet owed his career to Cocteau. Given his talent and ruthless determination, it is clear that he was capable of succeeding on his own. But the fact was, time was short, and had Cocteau not hurried him, Radiguet would not have finished two books before he was 20. Whether suffocated by Cocteau’s attentions, or simply mischievous, Radiguet determined to give him the slip on at least one occasion.
The writer and artist Nina Hamnett, one of Radiguet’s many lovers, recalled a champagne-soaked evening in Paris with Picasso, Cocteau, Brancusi and Radiguet. Seizing the moment, Brancusi and Radiguet decided to take a train to Marseilles, and head thence for Corsica. Only days later, they sent a telegram back to Paris, assuring their friends that they were quite safe “with the peasants and the Corsican brandy”. They were gone for two weeks. Cocteau was crestfallen.
In The Devil in the Flesh, Marthe and her lover try to abscond by night. The cast of Radiguet’s second novel suffer the claustrophobia of high society. At heart, Radiguet knew that escape was futile.
His most important contribution, however, remains his prose, which he turned to exclusively from 1921. If Radiguet was happy because Cocteau now gave him the space and support he needed to write at length, then his parents were less so. Cocteau found himself compelled to write letters of assurance to Radiguet’s father, explaining that nothing inappropriate was going on; during their writing holidays, they would sleep in separate hotel rooms.
There is no doubt that Cocteau felt an intense sexual attraction to Radiguet, whose sprezzatura and magnetism are obvious from the portraits which Modigliani and Man Ray made of him. But what, if anything, Radiguet felt for Cocteau is harder to gauge. At least until the publication of the first novel, he did little to discourage him. Convinced of Radiguet’s genius, Cocteau poured everything into publicising him, introducing him to his writer and artist friends, helping him to secure a publication contract with Bernard Grasset, founder of the eponymous publishing house, and igniting the attention of the press. Naturally, they could not help but to be mesmerised by the enfant terrible. The Devil in the Flesh sold 46,000 copies in the first month of publication, and was awarded Le Prix du Nouveau Monde.
Cocteau once said that Radiguet was so hard that “it would take a diamond to scratch his heart”. Given the way Radiguet behaved following his first flush of success, one can well believe him. It was not that Radiguet owed his career to Cocteau. Given his talent and ruthless determination, it is clear that he was capable of succeeding on his own. But the fact was, time was short, and had Cocteau not hurried him, Radiguet would not have finished two books before he was 20. Whether suffocated by Cocteau’s attentions, or simply mischievous, Radiguet determined to give him the slip on at least one occasion.
The writer and artist Nina Hamnett, one of Radiguet’s many lovers, recalled a champagne-soaked evening in Paris with Picasso, Cocteau, Brancusi and Radiguet. Seizing the moment, Brancusi and Radiguet decided to take a train to Marseilles, and head thence for Corsica. Only days later, they sent a telegram back to Paris, assuring their friends that they were quite safe “with the peasants and the Corsican brandy”. They were gone for two weeks. Cocteau was crestfallen.
In The Devil in the Flesh, Marthe and her lover try to abscond by night. The cast of Radiguet’s second novel suffer the claustrophobia of high society. At heart, Radiguet knew that escape was futile.
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