Sins of the Father

by Birkett

The Sins of the Fathers takes the form of a general introduction to the Decadence Movement, followed by close studies of seven individual Huysmans, de Gourmont, Peladan, Rachilde, Lorrain, Louys and Mirbeau. The author investigates the movement's artistic, literary, crotic, mystico-religious and political dimensions. Jennifer Birkett's study is a remarkable achievement, and makes a valuable contribution to our understanding of that unusual and influential movement in European culture.

Genres: Literature, Nonfiction

272 pages, Paperback

First published November 1, 1986

Reviews

[Side Real Press · Rating 3 out of 5]

Given the recent ‘boom’ in decadence studies, this volume, first published in 1986, might be seen to be a bit ‘old school’ in its themes and scope but there is still a lot to be gleaned from it despite its ‘flaws’.

Birkett’s main thesis is quite simple. ‘Decadent’ novels (at least those written by the main authors she cites, Huysmans, Remy de Gourmont, Josephin Peladin, Rachilde, Jean Lorrain, Pierre Louys and Octave Mirbeau) and art (Felician Rops and Jean Moreau) whilst seemingly portraying individualistic characters and ‘progressive’ ideas, are actually books that fear change and overtly or covertly bolster existing structures. This is particularly so with regards to their female characters who are either virgins ready to be moulded by their male counterparts: “women are without menace because they are without identity, reduced to simple sensuality for rapid easy consumption” she writes of Huysmans ‘Croques Parisians’ or femme Fatales/whores (who usually end up dead) for transgressing their ‘place’ in the scheme of things “ ‘irrational’ fears which are in fact totally rational fears of displacement".

Given the misogyny that appears in some of Huysmans and Peladin “our own times offer us the spectacle of a mob of intellectual eunuchs who let the crowd be feminized and have let women rejoin the crowd. That is why dear sister, you must serve or perish” (Peladin - 'L’Androgynie') she presents quite a compelling argument; the authors engaging in sadomasochistic relationships with their female characters and backed by numerous quotes. When these instances are piled up it does seem as if the sisterhood are having a rough time of it. The book is very useful in that it gives fairly detailed plot lines for books still (nearly forty years later!) untranslated from the French and does make some very interesting observations regarding say, the Wagner cult and place of artists such as Rops and Odilon Redon in the decadent world view. Given the recent revival of interest in Peladin this book is quite refreshing for pointing out some aspects which seem to be glossed over in more recent volumes on him although she regards him as a charlatan and does not seriously discuss his occultism. It is also refreshing to read something that, although seemingly pitched towards the student rather than the ‘general’ reader, is written in a style notably free from academic jargon and a trillion citations.

However, this book does show its age somewhat. Of course, it cannot be helped that ‘decadence’ now means a variety of things depending on who is looking especially with regards to women. For example, we do not see any reference to the ‘new women’ novels and stories of Jean de la Vaudere or the death-obsessed poetry of Renee Vivien. The latter is surprising especially given the inclusion of Remy de Gourmont in Birkett’s list of authors as they are linked by the whole Lesbian circle around Nathalie Barney. Barney and Gourmont were long term correspondents exchanging hundreds of letters yet this is given eight lines in the chapter on him. More bothersome for me is the fact that Gourmont became a semi-recluse as Lupus disfigured his facial features. How could this not have had an influence on his world view and his writings? Equally, she seems to ignore the fact that some of Jean Lorrain's tales are thinly veiled attacks on various of his (many!) enemies citing his short story ‘Victime’ as being ‘condemned by the censor [for] the woman's whole past history, beginning with her rape by her guardian on the way home from her fathers funeral and including a pious condemnation of women who put their art above the role of mother or mistress’. Actually, the ‘Victime’, Mathilde de Morny, sued him for libel and won huge damages that crippled him financially. De Morny is entirely absent from the book despite also supposedly being the model for Rachildes ‘Monsieur de Venus’, which Birkett comments on at length.

Some allowance must be given for the absence of the internet when this book was being written and electronic hindsight is a wonderful thing. How generous you might want to be regarding this is up to you. Anyone regularly reading my observations on books will know I am hard to please and I tend not to give the benefit of the doubt. That said, I am a straight white male reading what was probably a groundbreaking feminist view of French decadence so, as usual, and perhaps especially so in this case, my opinion might need to be taken with a few grains of salt. Despite my criticisms, I liked this book and it is definitely worth a read.

[Anna · Rating 3 out of 5]

A friend recommended this book to me. I found it rather an effort to read, tending to feel somewhat sleepy after thirty pages. Perhaps opium fumes emanated from the pages somehow? The chapters were each structured around one or two specific writers and the themes of their work. The strongest message I took from this was that the decadents portrayed women as demons, prostitutes, innocents, mothers, mirrors, victims, avatars of death, wraiths, lust monsters, illusions, goddesses, and murderesses, but never, ever accorded them the basic dignity of personhood. Thus, the chapter on Rachilde, apparently the only female decadent writer, was the most interesting. Rachilde’s writing was full of ambivalence, as she seemingly internalised the violent misogyny of the decadents and proclaimed herself ‘anti-feminist’. She sought to fit the decadent stereotypes of women but, as the list above shows, these poses were contradictory and none of them really amounted to more than a mask. The decadents also had a morbid obsession with and fear of lesbians, which is demeaning and frankly tedious.

I was particularly diverted by the final writer discussed, Octave Mirabeau, as he seemed much more willing to consider the political and institutional implications of decadence. Reading about the others, especially Louÿs and Huysmans, was rather frustrating as their decadent visions and occult obsessions seem so self-indulgent and reactionary. I am no literary analyst, but to me the decadents seem like the Romantics in an advanced state of decomposition, with no ideals or values, suffering from opium-infused depression, and trapped by a prurient fixation on transgressive sex. Considering that France at the time was shattered by the aftermath of the Franco-Prussian War and Paris Commune, such a nihilistic, contradictory, and morbid cultural development isn’t terribly surprising. That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though! I found Against Nature rather fascinating, however I have no great desire to read the racist and sexist dream-visions of Gourmont, Louÿs, et al. Much decadent writing seems overwrought and lacking a sense of humour. This book interested me to a point, however it felt much longer than 256 pages and left me wanting to read something more enervating, like a critique of neoliberal economics.