French Decadent Tales (Oxford World's Classics)

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French Decadent Tales (Oxford World's Classics) Page 6

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  Jules Huret, Enquête sur l’évolution littéraire

  Huysmans, Là-bas (his novel about black-magic circles)

  Lorrain, Sonyeuse; Soirs de province, soirs de Paris

  Maeterlinck, Pelléas et Mélisande

  Schwob, Coeur double

  Wilde, Intentions; Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime; The Picture of Dorian Gray

  Zola, L’Argent

  1892 Factory Acts brought in banning work for children under thirteen and limiting the working day for adults. Anarchist bomb scares. Start of the long-running politico-financial scandal involving the Panama Canal Company founded by Ferdinand de Lesseps; its bankruptcy incurs massive financial losses. In Germany Max Nordau publishes his influential Entartung (Degeneration), a virulent attack on moral and aesthetic decline, published in France in 1894 as Dégénerescence. Wilde’s play Salome is banned by the censors in England.

  Bloy, Le Salut par les Juifs

  Gourmont, Lilith, Litanies de la Rose, and Le Latin mystique (with a preface by Huysmans)

  Richepin, Cauchemars

  Rodenbach, Bruges-la-Morte

  Schwob, Le Roi au masque d’or

  Zola, Le Débâcle

  Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

  1893 Anarchist bomb attack on the Chambre des Députés. Trials concerning the Panama Canal scandal. Lombroso’s The Degenerate Female claims that prostitution is a biologically inherited tendency. Sarah Bernhardt plays the title role in Wilde’s Salome, translated into French by Lord Alfred Douglas. Verlaine reads in Oxford and London. Death of Maupassant.

  Freud and Breuer, Studies in Hysteria

  Arthur Symons, The Decadent Movement in Literature

  Gourmont, Le Fantôme; L’Idéalisme

  Lorrain, Buveurs d’âmes

  Mallarmé, Vers et Prose

  Rachilde, L’Animale

  Schwob, Mimes

  Yeats, The Celtic Twilight

  Zola, Le Docteur Pascal (final volume in the Rougon-Macquart cycle)

  1894 Anarchist bombings; French President Sadi Carnot assassinated in Lyon by Italian anarchist Cesario; Casimir Périer elected President. Start of the Dreyfus Affair: Captain Dreyfus is arrested and charged with treason by anti-Semitic, Catholic-dominated military court; found guilty, he is sentenced to solitary confinement for life on Devil’s Island. Émile Durkheim publishes Les Règles de la méthode sociologique. Havelock Ellis, Man and Woman. Founding of The Yellow Book by Henry Harland and Aubrey Beardsley in England. Marconi’s experiments with wireless. Death of Robert Louis Stevenson.

  Bloy, Histoires désobligeantes

  Geffroy, Le Coeur et l’esprit

  Gourmont, Histoires magiques

  Louÿs, Les Chansons de Bilitis

  Rodenbach, Musée des béguines, natures mortes et nouvelles

  Schwob, Le Livre de Monelle

  Conan Doyle, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

  Kipling, The Jungle Book

  1895 Félix Faure elected President of the Republic. The CGT (general workers union) founded. Trial of Oscar Wilde. He is found guilty of ‘acts of gross indecency between men’ and sentenced to two years hard labour. The Yellow Book ceases publication. Lumière Brothers patent the first moving-picture Cinématographe; first motion picture presented to a public audience. William Röntgen discovers X-rays.

  Huysmans, En route

  Lorrain, Sensation et souvenirs

  Symons, London Nights

  Valéry, Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci

  Wells, The Time Machine

  Wilde, The Ideal Husband; The Importance of Being Earnest

  1896 Tsar Nicholas II makes triumphant state visit to Paris. Kitchener’s expedition to the Sudan. Dreyfus family demand a retrial after the anonymous letter at the heart of the Affair is attributed to Esterhazy. Henri Becquerel discovers radioactivity. Henry Ford builds his first car, the quadricycle. Freud coins the term ‘psychoanalysis’. First modern Olympic Games staged in Athens. The height of Art Nouveau.

  Bergson, Matière et mémoire

  Gourmont, Le Livre des masques, illustrated by Vallotton.

  Jarry, Ubu Roi (first performances in Paris)

  Louÿs, Aphrodite

  Proust, Les Plaisirs et les Jours

  Schwob, La Croisade des enfants; Spicilège; Vies imaginaires

  Valéry, ‘La Soirée avec Monsieur Teste’

  1897 Félix Faure returns visit to Tsar Nicholas, leading to a renewal of the Franco-Russian Alliance. A fire at the Bazar de la Charité claims 140 victims.

  Barrès, Les Déracinés

  Bloy, La Femme pauvre

  Gide, Les Nourritures terrestres

  Lorrain, Monsieur de Bougrelon (a fictional portrait of Barbey d’Aurevilly); Contes pour lire à la chandelle; Lorelei

  Mallarmé, Divagations; Un coup de dés n’abolira jamais le hasard

  Rodenbach, La Carillonneur

  Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac

  Stoker, Dracula

  Wells, The Invisible Man

  1898 Zola writes his pro-Dreyfus pamphlet J’accuse, published in L’Aurore, after the acquittal of Esterhazy. Zola is proscuted and forced to go into exile in England. Height of the ‘Affair’, France profoundly divided. Foundation of the League of the Rights of Man (pro-Dreyfus) and of the anti-Dreyfusard League of the French Fatherland. Pierre and Marie Curie discover radium. Anglo-French disputes in the Sudan (Fashoda Incident). Start of construction of the Paris Metro. Havelock Ellis publishes Sexual Inversion and faces prosecution for outrage to public morals. Death of Beardsley, Mallarmé, Rodenbach, Moreau, Rops.

  Gourmont, D’un pays lointain

  Huysmans, La Cathédrale

  Lorrain, Ma petite ville; La dame turque

  Louÿs, La Femme et le pantin

  Richepin, Contes de la décadence romaine

  Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra

  Conrad, Heart of Darkness

  1899 Death of Félix Faure, election of Émile Loubet as President of the Republic. On the insistence of Clemenceau and Jaurès, Dreyfus is given a second trial, found guilty with ‘extenuating circumstances’, and offered a pardon by the government. Charles Maurras founds the Monarchist-Catholic movement Action Française. Start of the Boer War. Krafft-Ebing publishes Psychopathia Sexualis. Marconi’s wireless telegraphy transmits successfully across the Atlantic. Arthur Symons publishes his influential study The Symbolist Movement in Literature.

  Bergson, Le Rire

  Gide, Prométhée mal enchainé

  Gourmont, Le Songe d’une femme; L’Esthétique de la langue française

  Lorrain, Heures d’Afrique; Madame Baringhel

  Mallarmé, Poésies (posthumous)

  Mirbeau, Le Jardin des supplices

  1900 Universal Exhibition held in Paris, the most brilliant of its kind to date. Olympic Games held in Paris. Boxer Revolt in China. Reduction of the working week to sixty hours. Paris Metro Line 1 opens. Max Planck defines law of black-body radiation, the basis for quantum theory. Death of Wilde.

  Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams

  Gourmont, La Culture des idées

  Lorrain, Histoires de masques; Vingt femmes

  Mirbeau, Le Journal d’une femme de chambre

  Conrad, Lord Jim

  1901 Second visit of Tsar and Tsarina of Russia to France. Founding of the Radical Socialist Party. Picasso’s first exhibition in Paris. Death of Queen Victoria.

  Freud, The Psychopathology of Everyday Life

  Huysmans, Saint Lydwine de Schiedam

  Jarry, Messaline, roman de l’ancienne Rome; Le Surmâle

  Lorrain, Monsieur de Phocas

  Mirbeau, Les 21 jours d’un neurasthénique

  Liane de Pougy, L’Idylle sapphique

  Rodenbach, Le Rouet des brumes (posthumous collection of stories)

  Kipling, Kim

  Gauguin in the Marquesas Islands

  Rodin illustrates Mirbeau’s Le Jardin des supplices

  FRENCH DECAD
ENT TALES

  JULES BARBEY D’AUREVILLY

  Don Juan’s Crowning Love-Affair

  Innocence is the devil’s choicest dish.

  (A.)

  I

  ‘IS he still alive, then, the old rogue?’

  ‘Dear God! Still alive, yes!—and by God’s command, Madame—I added, remembering her piety—of the parish of Sainte-Clotilde, the parish of dukes!—The King is dead! Long live the King! as they used to say under the old monarchy before it was broken, like a set of antique Sèvres porcelain. But Don Juan will survive all democracies, he is a monarch that no one will break.’

  ‘In any case, the devil is immortal!’ she said self-approvingly.

  ‘He even…’

  ‘Who?… the devil?…’

  ‘No, Don Juan… supped, three days ago, at a cabaret… Guess where?…’

  ‘At your frightful Maison-d’Or,* I suppose…’

  ‘By no means, Madame! Don Juan no longer sets foot in the place… there’s nothing there piquant enough for the taste of his Highness. The princely Don Juan has always rather resembled the famous monk D’Arnaud de Brescia* who, according to the chronicles, lived off nothing but the blood of souls. He likes to pink his champagne with it, and you can’t find liquor like that anymore among the cabaret cocottes!’

  ‘Indeed,’ she went on with irony, ‘so he supped at the Benedictine Convent, with the ladies…’

  ‘Of Perpetual Adoration, yes, Madame! For once he has inspired adoration, the old devil, it does tend to last forever.’

  ‘For a Catholic I find you full of profanity,’ she said slowly, but a little nettled, ‘and I beg you to spare me the details of your dissolute suppers, if this is what you intend to impart to me by harping on so about Don Juan.’

  ‘I’m not inventing anything, Madame! The harlots at that particular supper, if harlots they were, are nothing to do with me… unfortunately…’

  ‘That’s enough, Monsieur!’

  ‘Allow me my modesty. They were…’

  ‘The mille è tre?…’* she broke in, curious now, altering her manner, almost friendly again.

  ‘O! Not all of them, Madame… Only a dozen. It’s quite enough, really, a respectable number…’

  ‘And not quite respectable, either,’ she put in.

  ‘Besides, you know as well as I do that you can’t fit many people into the boudoir of the Comtesse de Chiffrevas. It has seen great exploits, to be sure, but it is a very small boudoir…’

  ‘What?’ she exclaimed, sounding shocked. ‘They had supper in the boudoir?…’

  ‘Yes, Madame, in the boudoir. And why not? People have supper on the battlefield. They wanted to give a sumptuous supper to Don Juan, and where better to honour him than in the very theatre of his triumphs, the place where memories bloom in lieu of orange trees. It was a charming idea, both tender and melancholic. This was not the victims’ ball;* it was the victims’ supper.’

  ‘And Don Juan?’ she said, much as Orgon, in the play, says ‘And Tartuffe?’*

  ‘Don Juan took it all in good heart, and ate an excellent supper,

  …He, alone, in front of the women!

  in the person of someone of your acquaintance… none other than the Comte Jules-Amédée-Hector de Ravila de Ravilès.’*

  ‘Him! It’s true, he is Don Juan,’ she said.

  And though she was too old for such daydreams—a pious bigot in beak and claw—she dreamed nevertheless of the Comte Jules-Amédée-Hector—of the ancient and eternal race of Juan, to whom God did not give the world, but allowed the devil to do so instead.

  II

  WHAT I just recounted to the old Marquise Guy de Ruy was nothing less than the truth. Barely three days earlier, a dozen ladies, hailing from the irreproachably virtuous Faubourg Saint-Germain* (let them rest easy, I shall not name names!), all twelve of whom, according to the dowagers of gossip, had been honoured (to use the piquant old expression) by the Comte Ravila de Ravilès, took it into their heads to hold a supper for him—at which he was to be the only male present—to celebrate… what? They didn’t say. Giving such a supper was an audacious enterprise; but women, cowardly when alone, become daring in numbers. Probably not one of them would have dared to invite the Comte Jules-Amédée-Hector to a supper en tête à tête; but together, and using each other as moral support, they gladly formed a Mesmer chain,* bound by magnetic force to the compelling, to the dangerous, Ravila de Ravilès…

  ‘What a name!’

  ‘And a most fitting one, Madame…’

  The Comte de Ravila de Ravilès, who incidentally had always obeyed the directive suggested by his imperious name, was indeed the incarnation in one man of every seducer ever evoked in history or in novels. Even the Marquise Guy de Ruy—who was an old malcontent, with cold, sharp blue eyes, if less cold than her heart, and less sharp than her wit—conceded that in an age when matters concerning women became daily less relevant, then if there did exist anyone who resembled Don Juan, it had to be him! Unfortunately, he was the Don of the fifth act. The witty Prince de Ligne* never fully accepted the fact that Alcibiades could ever get to be fifty years old. And by the same token, the Comte de Ravila went on acting like Alcibiades. Like the Comte d’Orsay,* that dandy cast in the bronze of Michelangelo, who was handsome to the day he died, Ravila had the sort of beauty particular to the race of Don Juan—that mysterious race which does not proceed from father to son, like everyone else, but which occurs here and there, at different intervals, within the families of humanity.

  His beauty was the genuine article—insolent, joyous, imperious—in a word, it was Juanesque: the adjective says it all and needs no further elaboration; and what is more—had he made a pact with the devil?—he possessed it still… Only, God had now started to stake his claim—the tiger claws of life had begun to furrow the superb forehead that had been so crowned with roses, and by scores of lips; and on his broad, insolent temples the first white hairs were visible, announcing the imminent arrival of the barbarians, and the end of the Empire… In truth, he bore them with the imperviousness that comes from pride magnified by potency; but the women who had loved him observed them with melancholy. Who knows? Did they see their own advancing age reflected in his countenance? Alas, for them as well as for him, the hour had come for that terrible supper with the cold and marble-white Commendatore,* after which there was nowhere left but hell—the hell of old age, waiting for the one to come! Which is why, perhaps, before they came to share with him the bitterness of that ultimate supper, they thought they would treat him to their own, and it would be a masterpiece.

  A masterpiece it was indeed, of taste, delicacy, patrician luxury, of inventiveness and resource; it was to be the most delightful, delicious, generous, captivating, and above all the most original of suppers. Just imagine it! Normally, suppers are made of overflowing high spirits, intent on a good time; but this one was animated by memory, by regret, almost by despair, but despair dressed up, hidden behind smiles and laughter, and determined on this final feast or folly, on this last intoxicating return of youth, oh may it never end!…

  The Amphitryons* who gave this unbelievable supper, so contrary to the insipid customs of the class to which they belonged, must have felt rather like Sardanapalus* on his pyre, which he heaped with his wives, slaves, horses, jewels, and every luxury he possessed, so they would perish with him. In the same way, these women heaped this blazing supper with every luxury they had. They brought to it everything they had of beauty, wit, resource, ornament, allure, and poured all of it all at once into this supreme conflagration.

  The man for whom they draped and enveloped themselves in this final flame was worth more, in their eyes, than all of Asia in the eyes of Sardanapalus. They were more deliciously flirtatious with him than women had ever been with any man, or even with a drawing room full of men; and this flirtatiousness they spiced up with the jealousy which is hidden in society, and which they had no need to hide, for they all knew that this man had been with each o
ne of them, and a shameful secret shared is one no longer… The only rivalry between them now was, whose epitaph would be graven most deeply upon his heart.

  That evening he had the sensuous, sovereign, nonchalant, fastidious manner of a confessor to nuns, or of a sultan. Seated like a king—or the master—at the centre of the table, directly opposite the Comtesse de Chiffrevas, in her peach-tinted boudoir of forbidden fruits, the Comte de Ravila turned his hell-blue eyes—eyes that so many poor creatures had mistaken for the blue of the sky—blazing upon this gorgeous circle of twelve women. Their elegance was touched with genius, and where they sat, around this table loaded with crystal, lighted candles, and flowers, they spread before him, from the scarlet of the full rose to the softened amber glow of the grape cluster, every nuance of maturity.

  Excluded from this company were the green young things that Byron* abhorred, the little misses who smell of tartlet and whose figures are still wispy; here were resplendent and delicious summers, voluptuous autumns, lavish and full-bodied, their dazzling breasts at the full, overflowing the corsetry, with shoulders and arms of every plumpness, but powerful too, with biceps worthy of the Sabines who fought off the Romans, and who were ready to intertwine themselves between the spokes of the chariot of life, and stop it dead.

  I spoke of pretty ideas. Among the most charming at this supper was to have it served by chambermaids, so nothing could be said to have interrupted the harmony of a feast at which women were the undisputed sovereigns, since they also served… His lordship Don Juan—of the Ravila line—could thus plunge his ferocious gaze into a sea of luminous and living flesh, of the kind Rubens plies in his formidable paintings; but he could also plunge his pride into the elixir—be it clear or cloudy—of these hearts. Because at bottom, despite all indications to the contrary, Don Juan is a masterly psychologist! Like the demon himself, he loves souls more even than bodies, and like the infernal slaver that he is, would rather traffic in the former than the latter!

 

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