Abstract
On August 30, 1872, Théophile Gautier writes one last time to Carlotta Grisi of "ces désirs de m'envoler à Genève [...] comme un instinct voyageur. Cet instinct a une telle force qu'il produit une nostalgie dont on peut mourir" (70). Within two months, he will die, perhaps not of the mortal nostalgia for those dream sites that was the affliction / blessing of so many of his literary personae, but with nevertheless that ironic and always movingly pathetic admixture of unexpectedness - for one who still longed and lived for beauty, love and well-being, and of inevitability - for one whose health had been so weakened by recent deprivations.
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