#decadent movement

[noovorous]

As his cult grew he began to celebrate travestied offices in which he distributed to his congregation aphrodisiac pills presenting this peculiarity, that after having swallowed them the men believed themselves changed into women and the women into men. "The recipe for these hippomanes is lost," continued Des Hermies with almost a sad smile. 

from Là-Bas by Joris-Karl Huysmans

[dzgrizzle]

Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam by Ernest Dowson (1867-1900)

The brief sum of life forbids us the hope of enduring long. ~ Horace

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us after We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream Our path emerges for a while, then closes Within a dream.

[virgoantendencies7]

Once he had confined by accident a lady in the souterrains of the cathedral, and only many days later had her bones and a diary, a diary documenting the most delicate phases of solitude and loneliness, a woman’s contribution to Science, come to light; a piece of carelessness that had gone against the old man in his preferment.

—Ronald Firbank, Concerning the Eccentricities of Cardinal Pirelli (1926)

(Source: Thalia Gylonno, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

[saintnovis]

Traveler

Dare I ask what brought thou here,

Down this old, dreary path,

Where brothers are found amongst pine and stone?

Traveler

What hath possessed thee,

To pierce the infinite veil of fog,

To brave the untamed wilds?

Traveler

What hath brought thee,

To me, most eccentric of corpses?

Surely thou believe thou were given invitation,

Traveler

Be thou a vagabond,

Be thou a brigand,

Be thou a pauper,

Traveler

Be thou a sinner,

Be thou a blasphemer,

Be thou a godless one,

Traveler

I welcom thee,

I love thee,

I forgive thee.

Traveler

Do thou come to read,

Mine tales of mine travels,

Or to become one of those tales?

Traveler

Does thee understand lust, pleasure?

Does thee understand pain?

Does thee understand the two, intertwined?

Traveler

Does thee understand,

That which is inseparable,

That which is one reflection of the other?

Traveler

Do thee know pain and pleasure,

Indivisible from each other?

Would thou grant me the chance to teach thee?

Traveler

I await thy arrival,

Though I am little company,

I am eager to meet thee who hath need of me.

Traveler

May the forest guide thou,

And the blood moon be bright,

For no wind shall carry thee.

Traveler

No map will guide thou,

Thy feet shall feel,

As if betraying thee.

Traveler

Soon shall thee find me,

And be exactly where,

Thou have always needed to be.

Traveler

Mine door is always open,

And mine invitation shall,

Never be rescinded.

Traveler

It would be mine greatest honor,

If thou should allow,

This saint of saints to teach thee, all he has found.

Traveler

Welcome,

To mine tomb.

Welcome,

To the Crypt of Saint Novis.

[noovorous]

 One could easily imagine the dining-rooms and those terrible repasts which Gilles deplored in his trial at Nantes. Gilles admitted with tears that he had ordered his diet so as to kindle the fury of his senses, and these reprobate menus can be easily reproduced. When he was at table with Eustache Blanchet, Prelati, Gilles de Sillé, all his trusted companions, in the great room, the plates and the ewers filled with water of medlar, rose, and melilote for washing the hands, were placed on credences. Gilles ate beef-, salmon-, and bream-pies; levert- and squab-tarts; roast heron, stork, crane, peacock, bustard, and swan; venison in verjuice; Nantes lampreys; salads of briony, hops, beard of judas, mallow; vehement dishes seasoned with marjoram and mace, coriander and sage, peony and rosemary, basil and hyssop, grain of paradise and ginger; perfumed, acidulous dishes, giving one a violent thirst; heavy pastries; tarts of elder-flower and rape; rice with milk of hazelnuts sprinkled with cinnamon; stuffy dishes necessitating copious drafts of beer and fermented mulberry juice, of dry wine, or wine aged to tannic bitterness, of heady hypocras charged with cinnamon, with almonds, and with musk, of raging liquors clouded with golden particles—mad drinks which spurred the guests in this womanless castle to frenzies of lechery and made them, at the end of the meal, writhe in monstrous dreams.

Should I perhaps attempt to recreate and follow the demoniac diet of Gilles de Rais as relayed in Là-Bas? The world is torturing me severely with a boredom most nauseating, boredom not of a lack of matters to occupy myself with but of lack of enjoyable, new stimulation of senses and thoughts.

I doubut however that any diet could sufficiently "kindle the fury of one's senses", it never ceases to equal parts amaze and disgust me how prudish christian/culturally christian thinkers somehow arrived at equating sensual experiences of eating and savouring with sin. Should gluttony be a sin then let me be a great sinner.

[spltlvlhous]

OSCAR WILDE FREAKING GETSSSSS ITTTTRR ART FOR ARTS SAKE YEAH THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING OG MY GOD YOU GET JT

IM BRINGING BACK THE Aesthetic movement Decadent movement

OSCAR U A REAL ONE OMG THANK UUUU ٩( ᐛ )و

[dandiacal]

when the narrator describes someone's costume and segues into a horny paroxysm

[dandiacal]

finally found a physical copy of jean lorrain's histoires de masques in a library somewhere. only a decadent will write "it's the spiced lust of fear" and be serious about it