The High Place: A Comedy of Disenchantment — Context and Discussion

(1 User reviews)   250
Cabell, James Branch, 1879-1958, Papé, Frank Cheyne, 1878-1972 [Illustrator] Project Gutenberg 2021 Not confirmed
Historical fiction; Fantasy fiction; Middle Ages -- Fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

Edition facts

Words 69,435
Reading time 302 min
Text sections 41

Before opening The High Place: A Comedy of Disenchantment — Context and Discussion, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 69,435 words, 5 hr 2 min estimated reading time, and 41 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 21.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Historical fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Cabell's comedy follows Florian de Puysange, a nobleman who seeks the legendary sword Flamberge and finds himself in Antan, a realm of his ancestors. The novel blends fantasy, satire, and philosophical dialogue as Florian confronts the gap between romantic ideals and mundane reality.
Share
Editorial Edition Score 4.9/5

Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.

How this score is calculated
  • Description quality20 pts
  • Title & short description10 pts
  • Source metadata20 pts
  • Text length15 pts
  • Chapters / structure15 pts
  • EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

Read the Text

pecial to do, for Florian had now read all the stories in this curious new book, by old Monsieur Perrault of the Academy, which Florian’s father had last month fetched back from Paris: and, besides, nobody at Storisende had, for as much as a week, absolutely told Florian not to leave the gardens. So he adventured: and with the achievement of the adventure came a strengthening of Florian’s growing conviction that his elders were in their notions, as a rule, illogical.

For in Acaire, even when you went as far as Brunbelois, the boy found nothing hurtful. It was true that, had he not at the beginning of his wandering met with the small bright-haired woman who guided him thereafter, he might have made mistakes: and mistakes, as Mélusine acknowledged, might have turned out awkwardly in approaching the high place, since monsters have to be handled in just the right way. She explained to Florian, on that warm long October afternoon, that sympathy is the main requisite, because the main trouble with such monsters as the bleps and the strycophanês and the calcar (she meant only the gray one, of course) is that each is unique, and in consequence lonely.

The hatred men feel for every ravening monster that wears fangs and scales, she pointed out, is due to its apparel being not quite the sort of thing to which men are accustomed: whereas people were wholly used to having soldiers and prelates and statesmen ramping about in droves, and so viewed these without any particular wonder or disapproval. All that was needed, then, was to extend to the bleps and the strycophanês a little of the confidence and admiration which men everywhere else accorded to the destroyers of mankind; and you would soon see that these glittering creatures—as well as the tawny eale, and the leucrocotta, with its golden mane and whiskers, and the opal-colored tarandus,—were a great deal nicer to look at than the most courted and run-after people, and much less apt to destroy anybody outside of their meal hours.

In any event, it was Mélusine who had laid an enchantment upon the high place in the midst of the wood, and who had set the catoblepas here and the mantichora yonder to prevent the lifting of her spell, so that Florian could not possibly have found a better guide than Mélusine. She was kindly, you saw, but not very happy: and from the first, Florian liked and, in some sort, pitied her. So he rode with her confidingly, upon the back of the queerest steed that any boy of ten had ever been privileged to look at, not to speak of riding on it: and the two talked lazily and friendlily as they went up and up, and always upward, along the windings of the green way which long ago had been a road.

As they went, the body of this sweet-smelling Mélusine was warm and soft against his body, for Mélusine was not imprisoned in hard-feeling clothes such as were worn by your governesses and aunts. The monsters stationed along the way drew back as Mélusine passed; and some purred ingratiatingly, like gigantic kettles, and others made obeisances: and you met no other living creatures except three sheep that lay in the roadway asleep and very dingy with the dust of several hundred years. No self-respecting monster would have touched them. Thus Florian and Mélusine came through the forest without any hindrance or trouble, to the cleft in the mountain tops where the castle stood beside a lake: and Florian liked the stillness of all things in this high place, where the waters of the lake were without a ripple, and the tall grass and so many mist-white flowers were motionless.

He liked it even more when Mélusine led him through such rooms in the castle as took his fancy. He was glad that Mélusine did not mind when Florian confessed the sleeping princess—in the room hung everywhere with curtains upon which people hunted a tremendous boar, and stuck spears through one another, and burst forth into peculiarly solid-looking yellow flames,—seemed to him even more lovely than was Mélusine. They were very much alike, though, the boy said: and Mélusine told him that was not unnatural, since Melior was her sister. And then, when Florian asked questions, Mélusine told him also of the old unhappiness that had been in this place, and of the reasons which had led her to put an enduring peacefulness upon her parents and her sister and all the other persons who slept here enchanted.

The novel opens with Florian de Puysange, a nobleman, feeling out of place in his own company—a detail that sets the tone for a story about disenchantment. The subtitle, A Comedy of Disenchantment, signals Cabell's ironic treatment of romantic quests. Early chapters like "The Child Errant" and "Sayings about Puysange" introduce a protagonist who is both a dreamer and a skeptic, a combination that drives the narrative.

Cabell's prose is arch and allusive, peppered with literary references and wry observations. The structure, divided into three parts with chapter titles like "Widowers Seek Consolation" and "Economics of an Old Race," suggests a methodical unraveling of Florian's illusions. Readers should note the recurring motif of the sword Flamberge, which appears as both a literal object and a symbol of unattainable desire.

The Quest for Flamberge

The sword Flamberge is the central object of Florian's desire, but Cabell treats it with characteristic irony. In an early conversation, a mysterious figure recounts casting the sword into the sea to avoid sorcery, yet still achieving his desire—only to find marriage "as happy as most marriages." This deflation of heroic expectation is typical of the novel's tone. Florian's pursuit of Flamberge leads him to the realm of Antan, a kind of ancestral limbo where he meets figures who are both his forebears and ordinary people. The dialogue between Florian and Horvendile, who guides him into Antan, is laced with philosophical banter about the nature of desire and the disappointments of fulfillment. Cabell uses the sword not as a MacGuffin but as a pretext for exploring the gap between romantic ideals and lived experience.

Ancestors and Ordinary People

When Florian meets his ancestors in Antan, he is disappointed to find them "just ordinary persons, persons too who seem quite down in the mouth." This moment crystallizes the novel's critique of romantic genealogy. Horvendile explains that the life of their ancestor Manuel "did not perish" but endures in his descendants, a notion that Florian finds both philosophically intriguing and personally deflating. Cabell uses this encounter to satirize the idea of noble lineage: Florian's forebears are not heroic but mundane, and their presence undermines his self-image. The passage also introduces the theme of inherited life—a kind of biological continuity that reduces individual achievement to a mere link in a chain. Readers should pay attention to how Cabell balances this deterministic view with Florian's continued striving.

The Comedy of Disenchantment

The subtitle is not merely descriptive but programmatic. Throughout the excerpts, characters repeatedly undercut grand gestures with dry remarks. When one figure boasts of avoiding desire, another retorts, "Then you are braver than I: but you are certainly not a monstrous clever fellow." This exchange typifies the novel's humor: wisdom is presented as a form of cowardice, and heroism as foolishness. Cabell's style is conversational yet ornate, with characters speaking in aphorisms that invite rereading. The comedy arises not from slapstick but from the gap between what characters say and what they do, and from the persistent deflation of romantic tropes. Florian himself is both the butt and the vehicle of this comedy, as he oscillates between earnest desire and ironic self-awareness.

Structure and Chapter Titles

The novel is divided into three parts, each with a subtitle: "The End of Long Wanting," "The End of Light Winning," and "The End of Lean Wisdom." These headings suggest a progression from desire through achievement to disillusionment, but the excerpts indicate that Cabell's treatment is nonlinear and digressive. Chapter titles like "Problems of Beauty," "Niceties of Fratricide," and "The Gander That Sang" promise both philosophical inquiry and absurdity. The table of contents reveals a pattern of pairing abstract concepts with concrete situations, a technique that keeps the reader off balance. For a first reading, paying attention to the chapter titles can provide clues to the novel's shifting focus, but the real pleasure lies in Cabell's prose, which rewards careful attention to word choice and rhythm.

Readers approaching The High Place for the first time should set aside expectations of a conventional fantasy or historical novel. Cabell's work is best enjoyed as a conversation—between the author and his literary predecessors, between Florian and his ancestors, and between the reader and the text. The novel's humor is dry, its philosophy skeptical, and its structure deliberately episodic. Let the chapter titles guide you, but do not expect a straightforward plot. Instead, savor the dialogue and the ironic asides, which are the true substance of this comedy.

That rainy afternoon, The High Place left me with Florian’s quiet ache—how even a magic sword can’t mend a weary heart. I set it down, and my fingers found another book nearby, one about rougher lives and harder truths. The bushwhackers & other stories — Story, Setting & Ideas felt like stepping from a misty castle into cold, honest rain. Both left me strangely comforted.

David Hernandez
4 weeks ago

5
5 out of 5 (1 User reviews )

Add a Review

Your Rating *
  • ...
    Donna Richardson - 1 month ago
    An interesting blend of comedy and philosophical musings. The satire is clever, but the pacing feels uneven in the middle, and some characters are underdeveloped. Still, the unique premise and sharp dialogue offer enough to recommend for those seeking a different kind of comedy.

  • ...
    Amanda Joshua Hernandez - 1 month ago
    Despite its intriguing title, the novel struggles to find its footing. The humor often feels forced, and the narrative meanders without a clear direction. The disenchantment theme is explored superficially, leaving the reader unsatisfied. A below-par effort for those expecting a sharp comedy.

  • ...
    Megan Griffin - 3 weeks ago
    A witty and profound satire that skewers the notion of romantic idealism. The author's sharp prose and clever plot twists kept me engaged from start to finish. The protagonist's journey of disenchantment is both humorous and thought-provoking, making this a must-read for fans of ironic literature.


Reader reflection

What was your reading experience?

Capture what you thought, learned, and would like to remember.

Your progress 0 / 10
1

Have you finished this book?

2

How much did you enjoy the reading experience?

3

Would you recommend this book to another reader?

4

What was the reading difficulty like?

Related eBooks