I’m delighted to have been invited to submit a paper on Péladan, “the grandfather of symbolist art”, for the recent issue of Abraxas, and absolutely chuffed to have had one of my illustrations of Péladan’s work included. Continue reading “New article: Hidden in Plain Sight”
News
New article: Peladan’s Initiation for the Masses
My recent article on Péladan published in The Pomegranate: International Journal of Pagan Studies 14:2.
Mages and Fairies_Pomegranate article
Péladan’s Salons revived in Corfu – as an afterthought
It’s been quite a while since I posted an update, for which I apologise, but many developments have been taking place behind the scenes. Among other things, I seem to have managed to revive Péladan’s Salons in a small corner of southern Europe usually associated with summer holidays. I’ll get to that, but there’s a bit of background (and a book plug) to deal with first.
One of the reasons I’ve been lax with posting is because I’ve been writing and publishing a variety of articles on Péladan (forthcoming in The Fenris Wolf #7, Abraxas Journal, and the Pomegranate), and have also recently published my first book on him. (English synopsis here)
Written for the intellectual layperson, this book was commissioned by Daidaleos Press (Salonica, Greece), and represents the first introduction to Péladan written in Greek. Though my decision to publish in Greek first may seem peculiar to some, many readers will know that I am bicultural and bilingual, and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I’m currently formulating the English-language synopsis and book proposal and hope to be able to announce good news for the anglophone audience too.
Although firmly underpinned by my doctoral research, the book is written for the general reader and is aimed mainly at culture vultures. I’m saving the bumper academic version for when I’ve completed my PhD, but in the meantime this introductory version is close to my heart as it encapsulates what I’ve been ranting about for a while now: that this sort of material needs to be made available in a format – and written at a level – that appeals to a wide readership, and not only to denizens of the ivory tower.
The book features an introduction by Joscelyn Godwin (who read the English draft which I then translated and adapted for the Greek readership), and Greek author Zephyros Kafkalides, a well-known author in literary and philosophical circles. It begins with a brief biographical overview of Péladan’s life and times, laying out his context and the intellectual milieu. The second chapter incorporates a long translated excerpt from Péladan’s artistic manifesto (partly available in English here), accompanied by interpretive commentary that contextualises and clarifies some of his more obscure ideas. The third chapter is dedicated to his Luciferian legendarium, which, as I have just argued in my thesis, is the cohesive mythopoeic framework that underpins his whole oeuvre. The fourth explores the main symbolic complexes that appear in his work, and the fifth looks at the ways in which Péladan attempted to apply his vision in the real world. In the sixth and final chapter I ask the question: “of what possible use or interest, beyond the academic, can Péladan’s vision hold for us today”. The book also includes two lengthy translated excerpts from Péladan’s novel Istar (1888), and over 50 images (including 5 of my own original illustrations).
On the question of useful applications of Péladan’s work today, I suppose I should reiterate that my intention and interest is not in some kind of covert revival of his esoteric teachings – such as they were, as my own research is echoed in Joscelyn Godwin’s foreword in which he notes that “Péladan was not himself an occultist, but a sort of aesthetic theologian”. This is actually largely true, though I shall “unpack” it another time. I’m far more interested in looking at what use Péladan’s ideas can be to culture ,and artistic inspiration in particular.
I explore this question in the conclusion of my book, but it so happens that quite serendipitously, as I write these lines I’ve somehow ended up conducting a real-life experiment to find out. As a result, in this small corner of Europe that I call home, a sequence of events is unfolding that seems nothing short of miraculous. It is a tale worth sharing, a prime example of how culture can be driven, and what it means to apply scholarship to the mundane world.
It all began when I received an invitation to write an article for the catalogue of a bold new art exhibition that was being organised in Madrid, Spain. The cultural collective behind Semana Gotica de Madrid, together with Mentenebre cultural association and supported by the Autonomous University of Madrid were planning a month long sequence of cultural happenings and events. This year’s programme included a month-long Neo-Symbolist Salon based on Péladan’s Salons. In their call for art submissions, they spoke of the recontextualisation of key Symbolist motifs within contemporary art, which incorporates ‘Neo-Symbolism, new artists of the soul. The brief ended as follows:
“We look to Decadent Paris, where the Salons were the main way of presenting new artistic developments to the public. But we do not try to emulate the grand salons of the Louvre, or even the Salon des refusès where the Impressionists made their mark; rather we look to the adventure of a visionary, the self-proclaimed Sâr Péladan who founded the Salon de la Rose + Croix which involved mainly the current Symbolist artists. While somewhat removed from Péladan’s eccentricity, but following some of the principles that inspired its aesthetic taste, over a century later we present this Neo-Symbolist Salon. Artistic proposals for exhibition should be based on Symbolist iconography but reinterpreted within the parameters of counter-culture, anti-art, in opposition to the market and the establishment. For the true essence of the art of our time is quite far away and must be found in the underground.”
After an exciting brainstorming session with the organisers, I wrote the catalogue article on Péladan’s aesthetics and sent three of my recent illustrations of his work for inclusion in the exhibition. Synchronicity being what it is, within the same week I received the call from my Greek publisher asking me to write the book on Péladan, while my editor at the Greek newspaper to which I’ve been a regular contributor gave me a weekly art column in which I promptly began to develop a series of articles on the value of the arts in the context of the economic and social crisis currently plaguing Greece.
Weeks and months rolled by, the exhibition in Madrid was mounted to international acclaim, the book was published back in
December, and off I went to Salonica for the first book launch. Then I turned my attention to the second book launch on my home island of Corfu, and as it happened, some of my Greek colleagues in Athens and Salonica began to think it would be a nice idea to come along for a weekend break. Well, if we were all going to be in the same city, we had to take advantage of it! And thus the idea for a one-day symposium was born.
Being a Corfu native, the task of organising the event fell to me. Initially it seemed challenging: my associates and I all have very different areas of interest within the broad sphere of arts, letters, esoteric research and philosophy, and I somehow had to find a way of streamlining the event to give it a central focus. The one, striking common thread was our determination and passion for driving culture forward in spite of the crisis that has stunted the arts and letters across Europe, but particularly in Greece.
Then I thought of my current bugbear: making research serve society, and that was my lightbulb moment. I asked the speakers to focus on the practical value and applications of the arts and letters within this sociocultural context: one in which the world around us is experiencing rapid, vertiginous change to which circumstance calls us to either adapt, or be caught up in a vortex of confusion and often despair.
I stressed the need to explain to a general audience that the arts and letters are not only the territory of some privileged elite, but that creating culture involves the whole of society: so I asked them to draw on personal stories and experience of how their own work has had some meaningful impact within that context, particularly in a country where daily bread can no longer be taken for granted.
Our challenge, then, was to answer the unspoken question of why we should continue to support the arts and letters when some of us can barely pay the rent – and the answer could not rest on high-minded claims of intellectual superiority or vague claims about “passion”. I asked the speakers to find a way to explain that even when you can’t pay the rent, even when you can barely put food on the table, culture matters. And then, I went looking for people who are putting their money where their mouth is, and who continue to serve culture despite the odds, in this wrecked country of ours.
Spontaneous creative brainstorming resulted in a three-day event, which has taken on the character of a miniature Salon after Péladan’s example, incorporating a group art exhibition featuring local Corfiot artists, poetry readings and string quartets, platonic dialogues unravelling Péladan’s vision, and a series of talks on the practical, applicable value of studying and communicating through and about the arts, philosophy, history, culture, and indeed, occulture at times of sweeping cultural change. The lecture topics range from poetry inspired by archival discoveries to Nietzschean thoughts on the re-enchantment of the world, with all the arts – and several of the humanities being well represented. (The event website, though in Greek, is at www.artsrevolution.eu)
The event is now less than two weeks away, and in all my years of event organisation (one of my sidelines since my undergraduate days), I have never seen anything like the public response that it has provoked. Announcements began circulating in the local and national media before I sent out a single press release. Art submissions poured in, and though for practical reasons the call to artists was limited to locals (to avoid post-office nightmares), I’m still receiving extremely warm and enthusiastic correspondence from all over the country. Several people have asked whether it will become an annual fixture, and several more have insisted that it should.
All of which would suggest that Péladan’s vision for igniting a social renaissance through the arts is just what the doctor ordered for this embattled corner of Southern Europe. Péladan remains a complete unknown here, yet somehow I managed to revive his idea (and truly, it was an afterthought!) and embraced by the very people for whom he conceived it: by artists, poets, philosophers and art-lovers. There is tragic irony in the fact that Péladan was ridiculed and vilified during his life-time, yet over a century later, it may yet be that his grand vision becomes a vehicle for the very dialogue that he so desperately sought to incite.
It is the historian’s curse to be constantly mindful of the antecedents and influences weighing on our time, and the similarities between the fin-de-siècle and our own time – at least as it is experienced in Southern Europe – are quite stunning. The lived experience of the Greek crisis is quite different to the way in which it is portrayed in the international news alongside infographics of wanton spending and accusations of tax evasion, but there is no need for an in-depth account of the harrowing reality faced by the population. Suffice it to note that this is a society being forced to ask itself some hard questions, a nation at the crossroads between east and west still struggling with its own identity and cultural narratives while being subjected to overpowering geopolitical and economic forces.
In essence, it is experiencing what anthropologist Victor Turner has aptly termed “moments when common traditional meanings of life and history have become indeterminate,” and in such moments, it is to myth and its many modes of expression that societies turn in order to “remake cultural sense”.
This is the common point of reference between the French fin-de-siècle and Greece today, and this is what underpins the rationale behind the decision to introduce and attempt to implement Péladan’s idea of a creative crossroads where the arts become a locus for dialogue: for remaking cultural sense.
Our history has yet to be written, and the success or failure of this creative experiment will be judged by others in years to come. When viewed in the here and now, the role of the arts and letters is, among other things, to bear witness. This act of recording this endeavour as it unfolds is just that: to bear witness to an attempt at using scholarship to produce something of real, practical – perhaps delightfully subversive – use to culture as it is created: on street corners, in dusty bookshops, and in the minds and hearts of fellow citizens.
So, that’s the story of the accidental revival of Péladan’s Salons in Corfu. I have no idea how it will turn out, and right now I’m simply enjoying the sheer creative joy that it seems to have brought to the participants and art lovers of the island (and beyond). If all goes well, then who knows, perhaps it will become a fixture. Either way though, the reception of the idea alone suggests to me that indeed, the quixotic dream of using the arts as a vehicle to inspire social change on some level at least, isn’t so quixotic after all. Watch this space for photos and the event report once it’s all over!
And for those who might be wondering, yes, I will return to posting research updates soon.
For the Beauty and Spirit in Art: 1st Neosymbolist Salon, Madrid 2013
I’m honoured and proud to be participating in the first Neo-Symbolist Salon to be held in Madrid at La Corrala Cultural Center (belonging to the Autonomous University of Madrid) between October 31st-November 30th 2013, with three of my recent illustrations from the Péladan project.
My (invited) paper on Péladan’s aesthetic theory is included in the exhibition catalogue, and I will also be delivering the closing address of the conference via video link on November 30th at 12 noon.
The official website for the exhibition is here, and the full colour, lavishly illustrated catalogue including two more articles by Lourdes Santamaria, Professor at Miguel Hernandez University, and Pedro Ortega, PhD Autonomous University of Madrid, is available for pre-order here. Please note that the catalogue will be produced in a very limited print run and all proceeds go to further the cultural activities of the Cultural Association Mentenebre and Herejia y Belleza(Heresy and Beauty) for Madrid Gothic Week V.
For more information on the Salon please see this link.
“Art is a Religion”: Péladan’s Manifesto
Translation of excerpts from L’Art Idealiste et Mystique (Doctrine de l’Ordre et du Salon Annuel du Rose + Croix), 1894.
New article: Legends of the Fall Retold
My extended article including a lengthy translated excerpt from Peladan’s ISTAR was published in The Fenris Wolf 6 (Stockholm: Edda, 2013).
Edda.FENRISWOLF-6.book-228-269 (2)Interlude: Péladan visits Corfu
On February 27th I had the honour and pleasure of presenting a public lecture on Péladan and the Symbolist milieu in my home town of Corfu, Greece. I have done a lot of Péladan-related work recently; an article on Péladan’s initiatory teachings recently submitted for publication in a special themed issue of The Pomegranate academic journal, a second article on Péladan’s Luciferian beliefs for publication in the Swedish based, English language journal The Fenris Wolf, and a lengthy interview with Swedish poet and critic Haakan Sandell on Péladan and the sacrality of art for eventual publication in cultural journals in both Norway and Sweden, and I have presented on this topic at a couple of academic conferences; however this particular presentation was particularly close to my heart for a number of reasons, not least because Corfu is my home town, and a locale with a remarkable cultural history.
Corfu’s long and turbulent history sets it apart from the rest of Greece in a number of ways; and it is worth noting that it is the only part of Greece that never came under Ottoman rule following the conquest of Byzantium, the only part of Greece to experience the Renaissance, and, along with its sister islands in the Ionian Sea (Zakynthos, Cephalonia, Ithaca, Paxos, Lefkada, Kythera), was designated the first free Greek state (named the Septinsular Republic) prior to the liberation of Greece from Ottoman rule. This paper of mine, focusing on Corfiot Freemasonry and presented at a conference in Strasbourg in 2009, gives a good sense of the cultural background, and the wikipedia article on the island gives a fair outline of its history.
This history, Corfu’s geographical location as a crossroads between East and West, and the liberal attitude of its Venetian rulers (Corfu was an independent protectorate of Venice for some 700 years, an independent protectorate of Byzantium before that, and granted independence by the Romans before that), led to a unique flowering of culture on the island; a legacy still strongly visible today. Hence, I was immensely excited at the prospect of presenting an ideology that placed Art as its highest ideal, to an audience for whom this notion is part of their daily cultural reality.
In this lecture I endeavoured to give a sense of what the Symbolists whose work was inspired by Péladan in particular, stood for ideologically and philosophically, I sketched in some of the philosophical and esoteric background to the ideas propounded by Péladan and his circle, and offered a more detailed look at three key recurrent symbols used by this circle: Orpheus, the Sphinx, and the Androgyne, using paintings from his circle to illustrate them. I’ve written on these ideas before, both for academic and popular audiences, but this was my first opportunity to talk to a general audience about Péladan’s effort at using art as a force for social change. The talk was both well attended and well received, and, as I had hoped, led to animated discussion and valuable contributions from the audience who appeared to welcome and warm to the topic.
Several attendees expressed their surprise that Péladan and his Salons were not better known since they almost instinctively identified with the philosophical – and esoteric – underpinnings that I discussed. Given Greece’s current travails, at the end I raised questions regarding the relevance of this kind of research and such ideas to modern reality, and pointed out that beyond the specificities of Péladan’s esoteric concerns, the notion of the arts as a driving force for culture seeking to rebuild meaning in the midst of chaos, and its potential for social cohesion, are as significant today as they were a century ago. Questions on the use of symbolism as a vehicle for communicating ideas, and the Symbolist axiom of “giving form to an idea” were also discussed, and the audience was particularly engaged both by the neoplatonic notions underlying this concept, as well as the Greek origins of several myths that provided the symbolic “alphabet” for the syntheses created by the Symbolists.
I can easily say that this was by far one of the most enjoyable talks I’ve ever done, not only because of my personal attachment to the location, but also because of the audience response. Rather than speaking in a close academic arena where the ideas discussed tend to remain behind closed doors, I felt that I was tapping in to a cultural space where these ideas could be mined for their cultural potential in the present. Unlike other situations where one has to explain what “esoteric” means from the ground up, in this talk I don’t think I used the e- word once, but focused on questions of what it means to seek meaning in culture and history, what social role the arts play in that process, what Symbolist art, as opposed to more modern movements, can offer to this process and how these kinds of discussions. Simultaneously, I felt – or hoped – that I was offering something to that vibrant, ongoing social phenomenon of cultural creation by sketching in part of its history and giving form to often abstract ideas that creative folk (especially Corfu’s huge contingent of musicians and artists!) instinctively understand, but do not often have the opportunity to articulate or to discover their long and involved background. I don’t know whether I was also able to offer some small form of inspiration that one day, might become part of the fabric of Corfu’s vibrant cultural matrix, but as a Corfiot artist myself (beyond my academic pursuits), I certainly intend to try!
(No, I am not intentionally seeking to resurrect Péladan’s movement, but the truth is that I have always been concerned with the idea of “giving back” to culture, and in my capacity as an artist, with producing work that actually gives something beyond aesthetic pleasure to the viewer. Ιf culture is the sum total of a society’s search for meaning and outward expression of that impulse, then the most meaningful purpose I can find in researching it is to make it relevant to the ongoing process of cultural evolution, and especially to people involved in driving it forward. If those goals correspond with Péladan’s, then that’s the cherry on the cake.)
This experience sums up a train of thought that has preoccupied me for some time now, and that relates directly to the purpose of research such as this. Perhaps the most rewarding aspect of my lecture last week was the fact that for once, it actually felt relevant and that it served a purpose beyond the purely academic usefulness of recording history for posterity, or recording ideas for the sake of mapping out the perimeter of a given discipline and entering into endless debates on the precise provenance of a given idea, which though valuable within a certain context, has little useful application outside the classroom. Rather, in this case I dusted off a piece of cultural history that can still offer inspiration to people who, right now, are out there creating culture. More specifically, to a community that is well aware of their hefty local cultural legacy, and who are in the process of attempting to understand, in some cases preserve and add to it for future generations, and this is where this kind of discussion is at its most fruitful. In addition, a number of history students from the local university attended my lecture, and not only were they very interested in the topic, but afterwards we discussed the possibility of presenting original research on unknown (many esoterically-themed) aspects of Corfiot history and culture in the not-too-distant future (watch this space!).
All of this made this lecture of mine one of the most meaningful things I’ve been able to do with my research yet, and for that I am grateful, because it was an affirmation that given the choice, I would rather be right here in my home town creating and inspiring culture, than writing grant proposals for something that will put brownie points on my CV but means little more than that out there in the real world… Was this a deliberate act of esoterrorism?* Well, time will tell!
*Esoterrorism is a term used by musician and self-designated esoterrorist Genesis P-Orridge to mean that “Occultural ideas articulated and developed in films, in literature, in music or on the Internet are able to have, through synergies and networks, a disproportionate influence on large numbers of people and, consequently, on institutions and societies.” Excerpt from Christopher Partridge, “Occultism is Ordinary,” Contemporary Esotericism. Equinox Publishing, Sheffield, p. 125.
Péladan in English? (*upd)
A very frequent question I receive through this website is whether there are any English translations of Péladan’s work, and it is increasingly appearing as a search term in my stat count as well. The answer is, to the best of my knowledge, that apart from the play “St Francis of Assisi” (available free online here), which was published directly in English in 1913, and apart from the small excerpts posted on this website, there are currently no translations of Péladan’s work available in English.
(update 2014) Since publishing this post almost a year ago, I stand corrected on my claim that there are no translations of Péladan’s work in English *at all*, although it is true that there are no full-length translations of his books. The play “St Francis of Assisi” (available free online here),was published directly in English in 1913. Apart from this, I owe my thanks to visitors who have drawn my attention to the following:
- “The true place of the Holy Sepulchre” was published in 1908 by Francis Griffiths in Essays for the times series.
- “The Ritual of Love” was translated by Rachel Ashton and appears with an introduction by Jennifer Birkett in Zone Books’ The Decadent Reader.
If any other visitors are aware of translations I may have inadvertently missed, then please let me know by commenting below or on the Facebook page that is the social media outlet for this website, and I’ll be delighted to add them to this list.
Once I have finished my PhD (less than a year from now) I hope to be able to publish both an anthology of Péladan’s writings in English as well as some of his main works. (Any interested publishers reading?!!) (update 2017) I am now discussing such a project with a UK publisher.
Peladan’s work was translated into German and Italian, but I cannot help with other languages I’m afraid. I’ll post further excerpts when time allows. Until I have the time to work on further translations however, please feel free to get in touch if you have a specific question about his work and I’ll do my best to assist.
Translated excerpts on this website:
Istar (1888): Part II, Ch. 1 “The Oelohites: The Legend of Incest”
Comment on Devient Ar(t)iste: “To the Devil” and “Arcanum of Lucifer”
Istar (1888): Part I, Ch. IV “A Sentimental Journey”
L’Art Idéaliste et Mystique – Péladan’s Aesthetic-Esoteric Manifesto (1892-4).
Redeeming the “Dreyfus of Literature”
One of the books I’m currently reading in what little free time I have is Toby Churton’s biography of Aleister Crowley, which starts out by stating that his intention is to puncture the dark legend that has grown up around Crowley, and goes on to say:
How are we to understand who Crowley really was, and what he really achieved, if, as we shall discover, the legend is largely a libel?
Ask the man. He left us clues. (Churton, p.5).
This is largely my approach to Péladan as well, inspired particularly by Northrop Frye’s treatment of Blake:
… no one will deny that Blake is entitled to the square deal he asked for, we propose to adopt more satisfactory hypotheses and see what comes out of them… First, all of Blake’s poetry, from the shortest lyric to the longest prophecy, must be taken as a unit and mutatis mutandis, judged by the same standards… Second, that as all other poets are judged in relation to their time, so should Blake be placed in his historical and cultural context… (Frye, Fearful Symmetry, p. 4).
As I have noted elsewhere in brief, Péladan has been sorely hard-done-by in most extant biographies, and those that do not vilify him are for esoteric, rather than scholarly consumption. What I am currently attempting is a close review of his life and work, implemented, as with Frye and Churton, by letting the man speak for himself. Heaven only knows he wrote enough, so there is ample material to which to recourse. Now of course the clarification of many long-held, stereotypical perspectives on Péladan is part of the purpose of my dissertation, and those eager to read the fine detail will have to wait until it is submitted, revised and (hopefully) published in book form. However, a recent email exchange focusing on a question about Péladan has reminded me that firstly, old prejudices die hard, and secondly, not everyone appreciates the effort that goes into documenting a given point by use of that wondrous thing, documentary evidence, nor its purpose.
I must beg the pardon of my esteemed academic peers and colleagues who will already be stifling yawns and no doubt thinking that I am about to state the obvious. Well, it so happens that the obvious needs stating when, like me, you walk a constant line between the worlds of academia, art, and esotericism. And in order to help those outside academia to understand why we think and speak as we do, sometimes we really do need to spell out the point that facts are not matters of interpretation. In addition, we also need to spell out the significance of judging a worldview – such as that held by Péladan – within the context of its time. Certainly the emphasis we give to different facts and the way we present them may lead to implications and interpretations, but when it comes to “allowing a man to speak for himself” as is the case with Péladan, this involves a close reading of his own words wherever possible, based on the primary sources, rather than commentaries of the same, paying due respect to the context and historical period. Sound simple? If only.
There are certain enduring perceptions about Péladan that originated within the ridicule he endured during his lifetime, were assiduously propagated by his rivals, Oswald Wirth in particular, and from there passed into occult legend through the biographies by (among others) Rene-Louis Doyon (1885-1966), who reiterated the prevalent impression of Péladan as an attention-seeking, arrogant and self-crowned braggart. These same impressions were repeated and propagated by Robert Pincus-Witten (1935- ) in one of the first academic treatments of Péladan in the form of a doctoral thesis presented at the University of Chicago in 1968.1 The critical biography by Christophe Beaufils, entitled Joséphin Péladan: Une maladie de lyrisme, and published in 1993, is a meticulously researched book that still fails to acknowledge or demonstrate the slightest understanding of Péladan’s esoteric outlook, belief system, and motivation, which, as I argue throughout my thesis, is central to his work.
Even fairly sympathetic treatments of Péladan tend to emphasise his eccentricity and downplay his output as a writer, and to date the only works I have seen that pay any attention to his esoteric work remain isolated to the four volume compendium by Edouard Bertholet (1952), the short biography by Emile Dantinne (1947), both valuable sources from which to glean the esoteric reception of Péladan’s work. So too is the work of Jean-Pierre Bonnerot, but in all three cases, they are more theological exegesis than objective historiography, and thus cannot be taken at face value as scholarly sources, but instead form valuable, primary source material. Two notable exceptions are the articles by Nelly Emont in the L’Age d’Homme-Dossier H on the Péladan family, but this is a short monograph lacking in detail, despite the useful insights it offers; the second is an extensive section in Gerard Galtier’s Maçonnerie Egyptienne, which despite having a different focus, offers valuable contextual and historical detail on the Péladans and their esoteric milieu.
The dearth of focused work on Péladan is of course the reason I am undertaking this project at all. The deeper I enter the maze of his prodigious output, the more stunned I am at the glaring omissions on the part of earlier biographers. Bertholet, Dantinne and Bonnerot (who I do not class as biographers but as interpreters of his work), make it quite clear from the outset that they are focusing on his esoteric teachings and not whether he was well-liked or understood during his lifetime, and within the esoteric milieu they have offered rich and insightful presentations of his work. However, the biographical and scholarly treatments of Péladan display a shocking lack of due diligence which I cannot quite fathom because, just as Churton notes about Crowley – the man left clues. All one has to do is look for them, follow the breadcrumb trail, and join the dots. Péladan took care to cross-reference between his books in order to demonstrate where one theoretical exposition supported a given literary expression of the same idea, while he also took immense care to explain some of his more apparently controversial ideas. Here’s one of my favourite examples:
In the appendices to each of the seven books in his theoretical series Amphitheatre des Sciences Mortes, he included a set of table of concordances (accompanied by a short synopsis for each book), demonstrating how his whole oeuvre of novels and theoretical works fit together. In the synopsis for his first novel, Le Vice Suprême, he briefly introduces the dramatis personae, noting that each of them represents an (arche)type. These characters reappear throughout his novels, taking on different roles. In a prime example of his ability to perceive his own work both esoterically and exoterically, he says of his principal character and literary persona Mérodack:
‘Mérodack: the peak of conscious will, a type of absolute entity… Every novel has a Mérodack: that is to say an abstract Orphic principle facing an ideal enigma.’1
Furthermore, in Queste du Graal, published in 1894,1 after twelve of his twenty-one novels from La Décadence Latine and four of his seven monographs from Amphithéâtre des Sciences Mortes had already been published, Péladan provided a series of excerpts from these books, noting with obvious exasperation and not a little petulance in the foreword that his readers had quite failed to understand him:
‘One renounces the notion of understanding the author. However, in such an uncivilized country, where everything threatens the author: the army, the law, the customs, a certain notoriety offers a certain security.’2
Since his readers had not yet grasped the message he was trying to communicate, he had extracted the essence of his work in the hope that by simplifying it in the form of an anthology of interconnected excerpts, it would become clearer. This, alongside the schema of concordances and his own typology for his novels, affirms beyond question that Péladan had created his works according to a specific plan, and that – regardless of the impressions of his critics or Péladan’s failure to convince his readership – there was a systematic method and intentionality underpinning his whole oeuvre.3 (The objective of my research therefore, is to explore the content of that intentionality.
The cross-connections and very direct statements of purpose Péladan included in almost all of his works, along with the cohesion and consistency of his message should have been evidence enough for earlier writers to suspect that there was more here than met the eye. Yet, with the exception of perhaps two brief articles by Frantisek Deak and Nelly Emont, I have not seen a single scholarly source that does not perpetuate the various assumptions about Péladan, and thus his name still carries the stain of eccentricity, hollow posturing, fanatic Catholicism, imposture, misogyny, anti-semitism, and braggadocio. Eccentric he undoubtedly was (name me one artist who isn’t!) but the other accusations – each and every one of them – are mistaken.I should probably note that this is not a sign of my having “gone native” and become overly attached to my subject – I have acknowledged Péladan’s failings where they are incontrovertible. But in the case of the labels I note above, the evidence speaks for itself. Some of them are easier to explain than others, but I hope to soon find time to explore each of these accusations separately, complete with brief documentation to demonstrate why they are quite untrue, and hopefully thus carve the space for the re-evaluation of his work on its own terms. Watch this space…
1 J. Péladan, La queste du Graal: proses lyriques de l’éthopée.
2 Péladan, La queste du Graal, p. 1.
3cf. Literature Review, Section X, Chapter X of this thesis, in which previous authors and biographers have dismissed Péladan’s esoteric references and “mystic frills”.
4Nicholas Ruiz III, ‘Theory, Interdisciplinarity, and the Humanities Today: An Interview with Vincent B. Leitch,’ Interculture, 2:3, (2005), p. 5, available online at http://iph.fsu.edu/interculture/pdfs/ruiz%20vbl%20interview.pdf [accessed March 28 2012].
1J. Péladan, L’Art Idéaliste et Mystique: Doctrine de l’Ordre et du Salon Annuel des Rose-Croix (Paris: Chamuel. 1894), p. 275.
1 Robert Pincus-Witten, Occult Symbolism in France: Josephin Peladan and the Salons de Rose-Croix (New York: Garland, 1976). Originally presented as a doctoral thesis to the University of Chicago in 1968.
A lost path where the mandrakes sing
A small Christmas gift to friends of Péladan everywhere, in the form of an excerpt from his novel Istar (1888). This is one of the more lyrical and atmospherical parts of the book. As always, please respect the work that has gone into this and do not distribute without giving due credit.
ISTAR: Tome I, Ch. IV
by Joséphin Péladan, trans. by Sasha Chaitow.
A Sentimental Journey
On a lost path where the mandrakes sing, I wanted to spend the night – their naked feet disturbed the ferns – unreal beings!
They gave their name in a plaintive voice:
“Oh Sina!”
“Cyllene, hé!”
“Vo, Kypris!”
“Orphéa, hé!”
And the four phantoms often turned their heads towards a young black man following in prayer.
Sina was dressed in a long ray of moonlight, leaving a trail of silver in her wake, nonchalant and her hands full of swooning flowers.
Fevered Cyllene had a forehead pleated by an artist in search of work, and her hands waved spectral paintbrushes.
Skipping Kypris, flirting with the night, gifting swarms of glances and smiles.
Orphéa, her blonde mane a golden helmet, gazed at a brilliant, fixed point in the sky: immortal songs spinning on her lips.
Sina hummed:
“Floating and creeping ivy drags on bare soil, wandering, disoriented sweetheart, unquiet vagabond seeking rest, my soul is searching for a great soul to give itself to; my slender waist, a strong arm to hold me; my changing eyes, loyal eyes to admire.
So where is the sunlight of love hiding? Who will warn me with intimate words and kiss my sulky lips.
Appear to me, oh my Eros! Before my long wait, appear, master! Before my prostated tenderness.
Bring your shoulder to my tired head, wrap your arms around my weakened waist that I may finally sleep, a happy rest on your noble and fiery breast where sentiment, once born, flowers always the same, and always pure.
My sisters, after your efforts, do you see a dawning, you who march for art, for glory and for the kiss?
My heart, for me, alas, hopes for nothing.
“Cyllene, hé – Vo Kypris! – Orphéa, hé!”
Cyllene hastily spat out her words:
“I want! I want! I want!
When I called for tender love, I was deceived every time, and my brothers who could have cherished me are far away.
I will not weaken; the basilisk of my pride hisses and watches, around my waist decorated with the girdle of Venus. Nobody was worthy enough to remove my girdle, and I buried a dagger in my throat, renouncing the destiny of women, Hermes, my father, gave me hermaphroditic tendencies and the divine Helios was favourable.”
Transformed into an artist, the beloved severed herself from kisses, and walked a road of virility and immortality with a proud step.
Voluntarily sterile, I increased my desire for chimeras. Fecund of spirit and with a closed lap, I applied Plato’s serene words, a mystical androgyne enamoured of beautiful work.
Following my lead, cease your vain tears. Work my sisters, because your heart will not sense anything coming, alas.
Oh Sina! – Vo Kypris! – Orphéa, hé!”
Kypris murmured, cooing:
“Adonis is not dead; the kiss of his breath reaches me on the breezes, and at the spring a little of his reflection trembles; he passes by there, I tell you, we will join him before the opaline dawn.
My moaning languor that does not want to heal cherishes the untiring hope, dreaming of the tardy Beloved who with one embrace will erase even the memory of waiting.
My duty with each step is to adorn the earth with a soft beat of the soul.
I am the living ideal of the forms that you are seeking, Cyllene, and my noble patience, sister to your own, Sina, does not brood on the fever of the Orphics.
To wait for love, oh sisters! I look at myself and my heart smiles with my charms, if no-one else is to enjoy them.
Hé! Sina! – Cyllene, hé! – Orphéa, hé!
Orphéa sang, ecstatically:
“Glory, oh Cyllene, is the balm that heals the breathless wounds of love.
“Yes, glory, oh Sina, is a radiance which dissolves the shade of isolation forever, and which on the illuminated front, the Hero’s lamp, will bring us to Leandre.
“Glory, oh Kypris! Is a gem that adorns beauty itself. If our too haughty hearts have not been able to find a master, let us make a potent destiny for ourselves.
Love eludes us; we follow enthusiasm, if we have not been able to admire a mortal, let us make ourselves admirable and return to God our hearts that have been deceived on earth.”
Under the laurels, one day perhaps an unknown joy waited for the androgynes, under the myrtles, Kypris, and Sina, under the willows.
“My sisters, have you felt anything coming?
Oh Sina! – Cyllene, hé! – O Kypris?”
The apparitions marched towards the dawn; and when the cock crowed I saw them stopped in a clearing where the paths formed a cross.
“We should go our separate ways, my sisters,” said the young black man.
“Adar! We are thirsty for love.”
“Adar! We are hungry for mystery.”
“Adar! We are afraid of the day.”
“Adar! We are cold of heart.”
“Weep, for comfort.”
The black youth struck the eyes of the travellers: their tears fell heavy and glistening. Then he raised the vase of lead as a chalice, and, a miracle! Vermillion blood, royal blood bubbled to the suddenly sparkling edges.
Soon the four sisters knelt as Adar spoke in a solemn voice; he seemed like a chaplain performing Mass.
“Thus you, Clement father, through your son, our God, we entreat you to bless this bitter sacrifice, a devotion of humility.
Instead of the luciferian diamond, our chalice is of base lead, and I, Bené Satan, instead of solar vestments, wear the funeral habit of fatalism. Denied holy communion forever our obstinacy maintains our audacity, similar to the excommunicated who must pray before the porches of churches.
We want to take communion, and under the only species allowed in our damnation; my Word for the host, for wine the tears of these women, queens of hell, demon angels who carry for life the regret of peaceful skies.
The pain of my thoughts mixes with these tears that we drink for salvation.
Purification of the man who appeases the wrath of the Father.
Purification of the androgyne who appeases the wrath of the Son.
Purification for the demon who appeases the wrath of the Holy Spirit.
Lord, I am unworthy to drink your precious blood, here I heal the lesions of sin with the water of pain.
He leant the chalice four times towards attentive lips, saying:
“Tears of the passions, wash us for eternal life.”
Having blessed the roads four times, Adar kissed each forehead. Sighing, the sisters lingered, hand in hand.
“Adar, walk with us; with the four of us.”
But the yound black man shook his head sadly.
“If you are together, you will not suffer, and I, a lost Saturnian, am condemned to solitude.”
“O Sina! – Cyllene, hé! – Vo Kypris! – Orphéa hé!”
In the clearing all was silent after that, and when the last star died in the opaline sky, the spectres disappeared.
I constantly see them, in spirit, those four phantoms passing, turning their tired heads towards a young black man who follows them in prayer.
Long have I travelled, a nocturnal pilgrim, the most deserted trails, my eye has seen the moon dissolve, but on the calm autumn nights, I can hear a faint echo.
“O Sina! – Kyllene, hé! – Vo Kypris! – Orphéa hé!”
Are those the damned ones, or is it the purgatory of penitent souls? But when I saw them, didn’t I cross myself?
These seekers of love, Sina the languorous one, Cyllene demanding an expression of Art; Kypris, the sad turtledove; and the one from Cithaeron with feverish accents, they seemed to me, when I dreamed of them, like august demons, followed by a melancholy almoner and fatalist priest.
Sina wore a long ray of moonlight, leaving a trail of silver in her wake, nonchalant and her hands full of swooning flowers.
Fevered Cyllene had a forehead pleated by an artist in search of work, and her hands waved spectral paintbrushes.
Skipping Kypris, flirting with the night, gifting swarms of glances and smiles.
Orphéa, her blonde mane a golden helmet, gazed at a brilliant, fixed point in the sky: immortal songs spinning on her lips.
On a lost pathway where the mandrakes sing, I wanted to spend the night – their naked feet disturbed the ferns – unreal beings!
They gave their names in a plaintive voice:
“Oh Sina!”
“Cyllene, hé!”
“Vo, Kypris!”
“Orphéa, hé!”
Photos and portraits of Péladan
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.439125512804110.92236.439116706138324&type=3
Frontispieces to Péladan’s books
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.439130136136981.92241.439116706138324&type=3