Remy de Gourmont (1858–1915)

A Night in the Luxembourg (Une nuit au Luxembourg) by Remy de Gourmont, tranlated by Arthur Ransome.

One of the pleasures of reading is that the discovery of one book often leads to other books. This is certainly the case with the deceptively pregnant little volume entitled One Hundred Best Books by John Cowper Powys (reviewed elsewhere). Having read it and lingered over the mini-reviews of each of the so-called hundred best books, my curiousity was piqued by the authors on the list of whom show more I had never heard. Some of those authors gave titles to their works that are of the type that excite the imagination, for example, A Night in the Luxembourg by Remy de Gourmont. This title called up images of my own strolls through the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris. Out of curiousity, having never heard of Remy de Gourmont nor his book, I went in search of it and found a copy.

Remy de Gourmont (1858 - 1915) is nowadays considered with the Symbolists. He was a respected novelist, poet and critic—"perhaps the greatest since Walter Pater," according to Powys— whose writing style, according to some, displayed an infectious charm. Sadly, most of his work is unavailable in English.

What exactly is A Night in the Luxembourg? Is it a fantasy? Is it a mystery? Is it a romantic – dare I say erotic – novel of ideas? Is it an Epicurean dialogue? Is it a dream vision? Is it a paean to woman? Is it a symbolist prose poem? The answer is yes to all, but mostly it is a philosophical dialogue providing a painless introduction to—or review of, as the case may be—Epicurean philosophy from a novel point of view. It is not of great length, but it is exceptionally thought-provoking.

In this era of strident discourse between theists and atheists, at first glance this book might be viewed as blasphemous by the former and as piffle by the latter because it consists in part of a dialog between an ordinary man and a figure who claims to be one of the gods, and whose philosophy is decidedly Epicurean. The dialogue concerns itself with juxtaposing the virtues of Epicureanism—not merely hedonism—against Christianity and Judaism, as practiced. Incidentally, a lovely trio of "goddesses" is part of this god's entourage.

By way of refreshing my memory of Epicureanism, a quick trip to Wikipedia revealed that Epicurus owned a garden in ancient Athens that was located roughly between the Agora and the Academy. He founded a school that met at the Academy, which he called The Garden. Is it a coincidence that a nineteenth century Symbolist writer would locate an Epicurean novel in a garden—in this case the Luxembourg Gardens?

A Night in the Luxembourg is quotable on nearly every page. Even in translation, it combines a literary lushness with clarity of thought. To read it is to be carried away by the dream of conversation with superior beings and at the same time to absorb a modern view of Epicurean philosophy. This is yet another book that begs to be reread.

Powys says, "It is a book for those who have passed through more than one intellectual Renaissance." Many of us have indeed "passed through more than one intellectual Renaissance," and therein lies part of this little book's appeal. show less

This fine collection of essays by Remy de Gourmont (1858-1915) features one real gem, ‘Success and the Idea of Beauty’ --- the focus of my review. The author views beauty, pleasure and aesthetics in purely biological and evolutionary terms and anticipates the modern day examination of the world of art and aesthetics by neuroscience, neuropsychology and biology. Armed with the findings of biology and animal behavior, de Gourmont goes on the attack against high-brow artistic elites who show more have conceited notions about art and who look down their noses at artistic works having a measure of popular success.

The author asks: What’s wrong with a work of art being successful? After all, he says, success enables a work to reach many people and the whole purpose of art is to please, thus success gives art more of a chance to please as many people as possible. And, he continues, if anybody thinks success compromises the artwork, this view is simply wrong – the work of art is the work of art and success doesn’t alter it in any way.

And when it comes to the ‘average person’, success has a momentum of its own. As de Gourmont says, “The public obeys success as dogs obey the sound of a whistle.” And when it comes to the way the mass of humanity views beauty, the author thinks things couldn’t be more clear. He writes: “The crowd can say: that pleases me, hence it is beautiful. It cannot say: that pleases me, yet it is not beautiful, or: that displeases me, yet it is beautiful.” Ah, the clean, uncomplicated connection between beauty and that which pleases. De Gourmont outlines the biological foundations of why this connection is so strong and so direct.

Indeed, for de Gourmont biology is the key to understanding what is happening in our human perception of beauty. We read: “The idea of beauty has an emotional origin, connected with the idea of generation. . . . Beauty is so sexual that the only generally accepted works of art are those which show the human body in its nakedness.” Perhaps this is a slight exaggeration, but we now have a mountain of documented research on how human perception finds certain qualities of faces and bodies (things like symmetry and flawless skin) most appealing and pleasing. And de Gourmont goes further in stating: “Aesthetic emotion puts us in a state favorable to the reception of erotic emotion.” Hard to deny, particularly since the entire advertising industry and fashion world revolve around this connection.

Turning now to that high-brow artistic elite, the author speaks of how things can get very convoluted and complex very quickly. Why? De Gourmont points out in what manner refined aesthetic judgments of literary experts, artistic cognoscente and cultural authorities add a second layer to the equation: intelligence. So we not only have the raw, direct, honest pleasures men and women experience via their sensations, we now have to deal with an unending stream of concepts and categories. But, the author notes, concepts and categories and artistic values change over time – what the 17th century French elite valued in art and what the 18th century French elite valued in art differs widely from each other and both differ from the art considered great by the present-day elite. Thus, artistic values and aesthetic judgments are anything but absolute,

This lack of an absolute in the realm of art and aesthetics leads de Gourmont to assert: ”Let us leave men to seek their pleasure freely. . . . That which moves us is beautiful, but we can be moved only in the measure of our emotional receptivity, and according to the state of our nervous system.” In other words, leave people alone. If people want to read popular fiction instead of Wordsworth or Nabokov, if they want to watch popular movies instead of Shakespeare plays or listen to rock music instead of string quartets, they should jolly well be given the opportunity to do so.

You can try to force people into museums, concert hall or poetry readings, but ultimately such force-feeding will not help and could quite possible cause harm (Actually, nowadays this force-feeding comes not from high culture but from popular culture and the mass media). For, as Remy de Gourmont states, “Art is the accomplice of love. Take love away and there is no longer art.” I couldn’t agree more. In the end, we all want to engage with the art that we love. show less

This fine collection of essays by Remy de Gourmont (1858-1915) features one real gem, ‘Success and the Idea of Beauty’ --- the focus of my review. The author views beauty, pleasure and aesthetics in purely biological and evolutionary terms and anticipates the modern day examination of the world of art and aesthetics by neuroscience, neuropsychology and biology. Armed with the findings of biology and animal behavior, de Gourmont goes on the attack against high-brow artistic elites who show more have conceited notions about art and who look down their noses at artistic works having a measure of popular success.

The author asks: What’s wrong with a work of art being successful? After all, he says, success enables a work to reach many people and the whole purpose of art is to please, thus success gives art more of a chance to please as many people as possible. And, he continues, if anybody thinks success compromises the artwork, this view is simply wrong – the work of art is the work of art and success doesn’t alter it in any way.

And when it comes to the ‘average person’, success has a momentum of its own. As de Gourmont says, “The public obeys success as dogs obey the sound of a whistle.” And when it comes to the way the mass of humanity views beauty, the author thinks things couldn’t be more clear. He writes: “The crowd can say: that pleases me, hence it is beautiful. It cannot say: that pleases me, yet it is not beautiful, or: that displeases me, yet it is beautiful.” Ah, the clean, uncomplicated connection between beauty and that which pleases. De Gourmont outlines the biological foundations of why this connection is so strong and so direct.

Indeed, for de Gourmont biology is the key to understanding what is happening in our human perception of beauty. We read: “The idea of beauty has an emotional origin, connected with the idea of generation. . . . Beauty is so sexual that the only generally accepted works of art are those which show the human body in its nakedness.” Perhaps this is a slight exaggeration, but we now have a mountain of documented research on how human perception finds certain qualities of faces and bodies (things like symmetry and flawless skin) most appealing and pleasing. And de Gourmont goes further in stating: “Aesthetic emotion puts us in a state favorable to the reception of erotic emotion.” Hard to deny, particularly since the entire advertising industry and fashion world revolve around this connection.

Turning now to that high-brow artistic elite, the author speaks of how things can get very convoluted and complex very quickly. Why? De Gourmont points out in what manner refined aesthetic judgments of literary experts, artistic cognoscente and cultural authorities add a second layer to the equation: intelligence. So we not only have the raw, direct, honest pleasures men and women experience via their sensations, we now have to deal with an unending stream of concepts and categories. But, the author notes, concepts and categories and artistic values change over time – what the 17th century French elite valued in art and what the 18th century French elite valued in art differs widely from each other and both differ from the art considered great by the present-day elite. Thus, artistic values and aesthetic judgments are anything but absolute,

This lack of an absolute in the realm of art and aesthetics leads de Gourmont to assert: ”Let us leave men to seek their pleasure freely. . . . That which moves us is beautiful, but we can be moved only in the measure of our emotional receptivity, and according to the state of our nervous system.” In other words, leave people alone. If people want to read popular fiction instead of Wordsworth or Nabokov, if they want to watch popular movies instead of Shakespeare plays or listen to rock music instead of string quartets, they should jolly well be given the opportunity to do so.

You can try to force people into museums, concert hall or poetry readings, but ultimately such force-feeding will not help and could quite possible cause harm (Actually, nowadays this force-feeding comes not from high culture but from popular culture and the mass media). For, as Remy de Gourmont states, “Art is the accomplice of love. Take love away and there is no longer art.” I couldn’t agree more. In the end, we all want to engage with the art that we love. show less

There should be a genre called phantasmagoric fiction. Writings that threaten with an opium-tinged lethargy and hallucigenic seduction. Haunted plots inhabited by characters imbued with a particular cobalt, tedium vitae. Angels of Perversity would befit this genre. De Gourmont's collection of short stories- very short,some only a few pages long, carry a languor and slight Satanic gleaming. The story, "The Dress" , where a man falls in love with a dress, seems to cross a shadow in my mind show more every once and again. show less