Wednesday

 

Richard Wagner and his works represent a great sum of occult power.

Rudolf Steiner, 1908

Sunday

 

“There should be in the world a centre of scientific and philosophical research, where the most notable scholars, in possession of new ideas, could readily experiment the value of the hypotheses constructed either by themselves or by their disciples. A centre from which nothing would drive away the good will. A centre wherein a world record could be kept of the entire range of the progressive imagination of man, and where nothing usefully conceived by the human brain would be lost. A centre from which economic and practical knowledge would flow to all parts of the world. A centre and a city outside of all historical and social quarrels, of all economic and national rivalries, a centre belonging, without possible exception, to all. To the Spirit of all. To the Spirit only.”

Paul Adam, 1893

Tuesday

 

Wagner was one of the masters of Symbolism; his conception of art, his philosophy, his very formula were at the origin of Symbolism. It was impossible to get to the bottom of Wagnerism without encountering Symbolism; that is to say, it was impossible to expound the Wagnerian conception without recognizing in it the doctrine, or at least one of the primordial elements, of the new poetic doctrine.

Édouard Dujardin, 1936

Thursday

 

“Remember that a picture, before being a battle horse, a nude, an anecdote or whatnot, is essentially a flat surface covered with colours assembled in a certain order.”

Claude Debussy, 1890

Monday

 

The universe is composed of several billions of suns, separated from one another by trillions of leagues, but nevertheless sustained in the luminiferous ether by the mutual attraction of all and the movement of each. While you are traveling toward the constellation of Hercules, our beautiful star is traveling toward the Pleiades; Sirius is hastening toward Columba, and Pollux launching itself toward the Milky Way. All these colossal existences are running through the eternal void, and when you are a star, you will do likewise.”

Jane de la Vaudère, 1893



“I said to music that I gave it the vastest scope to paint whatever it wanted, but I imposed two conditions on that: the first was that the diapason would remain in my archives; the second, that the range of the voice and its instruments would be limited to the planetary scale, like nations—except that I only imposed the second condition for a time, until Herschel had discovered a new planet, which would be the bass register of a new scale, and the tonic of a new octave.”

Louis-Claude de Saint Martin, 1798

 


Metempsychosis


Long after all life

Shall have ceased upon the widowed earth,

The sorrowful shades of humankind,

The plaintive souls of humankind,

Will return to visit

The widowed earth

Where all life shall have ceased.


They will leave behind the new bodies

Which the tyrannical right hand of God

Will have assigned to their wandering fate,

Upon some distant planet,

And piously will come to visit

The widowed earth.


Then their spiritual eyes

And their immaterial ears

Will recognize the forms, the colors, and the sounds

That were the works of their diligent hands,

Through the piled-up and forgotten ages.


That were the works of their feeble hands,

Yet hands stronger still

Than the Void.

While within them throbbed the life of earth

And their mouths proclaimed

The thrice-holy name of immortal Art.


And when, come the returning dawn, another sun

Calls them back to the bodies assigned

To their wandering fate,

Upon some distant planet,


Each wandering shade, each plaintive soul

Will say: —I dreamed a wondrous dream.


And, under the lash of eternal Beauty

And of eternal Melancholy,

Humankind will once more subdue—

Upon that distant planet—

The colors, the forms, and the sounds.


Marie Krysinska, 1890



Saturday

 

“It was a small consolation for Mrs. Dubonnet when Mary Garden, star of the L'Opéra-Comique, drove up in her Renault one day and bargained for the red curtain cord.

Hanns Heinz Ewers, 1915


 

“Debussy was a very, very strange man.”

Mary Garden, 1951


Wednesday

“A poet has said: 'The time has come to conquer the planets and mount an assault on the stars.'

“'We have found our way,' proclaimed all the newspapers, 'the way dimly foreseen for so many centuries! Not the vanished dream of eastward or westward, northward or southward expansion! No, expansion into the skies, expansion towards the stars, where no one shall bar our route!'”

Andre Mas, 1913

Friday

 

I can, as Poe would have it, create revolving worlds and fiery, howling spheres, with the sound of a material dispossessed of a soul; and with this I have surpassed even Lucifer, for I can force disorganized things to blaspheme. Night and day, at my will, skins which were once alive and metals perhaps only not yet so, proclaim inanimate words; and if it is true that the voice creates universes in space, the ones I have it create are worlds which die before having lived. In my house dwells a Behemoth who bellows at the wave of my hand; I have invented a talking machine.”

Marcel Schwob, 1892

Tuesday

 

“Would a luminous insect imprisoned in a block of transparent amber, if it were still alive, have another vision of the universe than that of a milieu transparent and solid to infinity? The highest theogonies all revert to the story of the lion giving his gods the face of a lion. Thousands of men superior in intelligence continue to accept that puerility serenely. If the triangles of geometry books could talk and assemble in council, all of them—the right-angled, the isosceles and the countless host of scalenes—would quickly conclude, by means of irrefutable formulae, that God, if he exists, is evidently the triangle in itself, and perfect. There would be wars of religion in a such a fantastic world, with the army of curved figures, convinced that God cannot be anything other than the perfect circumference.”

Gabriel de Lautrec 1903

Saturday

 


“No stupid self-respect! The important thing is to succeed. Yes, let’s get together with the other worlds. Let’s create an international and intercosmic company to destroy… to destroy!” Penkenton bit into the repeated world as if it were prey between the teeth of a tiger. “Destroy everything: worlds, suns, space itself, and time! Annihilate everything, engendering nothingness! What an achievement—greater than creating being! And what a god man will be when he has achieved that creation! But one man, one company, or one world isn’t sufficient to the task; we need for associates the 115 planets that surround us and the 38 million suns that flame at the end of our telescopes. So let’s get on with it, without wasting a moment, and reach an understanding with our allies.”

Alfred Didier Marie Mesnard, comte de Chousy, 1883

Monday

Then I saw strange animals moving in all directions, mingling their dazzling scales, twisting their fiery coils, walking, crawling, flying and responding to one another with profound and sonorous voices like the notes of an organ. There were sphinxes shaking their bandelets and chimeras with green phosphorescent eyes spitting fire through their nostrils and striking their foreheads with long dragon’s tails. There were griffins, half lion and half vulture, clenching their red paws and stretching out their blue necks, and basilisks with violet bodies undulating in the sand. There were a thousand strange, scarcely suspected, beasts: tragelaphs, half stag and half ox, alligators with the feet of roe deer, goats with the hindquarters of donkeys, owls with serpents’ tails, gigantic chameleons, and terrifying monsters sometimes as tall as mountains and sometimes as slender as reeds. There were immense metal flowers on the legs of women, and dragonflies whose deployed wings resembled the sails of ships and whose bodies shone like steel yardarms.

Jane de la Vaudere, 1893


Hashish will be taken under the auspices of Moreau and Aubert-Roche. Arrive between five and six at the latest. You will have your share of a light dinner and await the hallucination.

Fernand Broissard to Théophile Gautier, 1845

Friday

 

A small high-pitched voice caused them to turn round. “Glory to the Superman! May he favor you with an operation, Messieurs!” 

It was a legless man, posed on a silently-wheeled pedestal equipped with a deflector reminiscent of a locomotive’s cow-catcher. His torso was swathed in a kind of green leather sheath bolted to the pedestal, and that armature, hermetically sealed, only opened on the right side, to give passage to a single arm, and at the neck, to let through the head.  But what secured the originality of the face most of all was the complete absence of a lower jaw, replaced by a kind a glabrous membrane that extended to the lower lip, partly opening an entirely toothless mouth. 

“I shall proclaim it loudly forever! I’m perfectly happy, firstly because I’m Dr. Caresco’s masterpiece, and secondly because I’ve greatly diminished the chances of physical suffering and mental disappointments!”

“Would it not have been more complete, in that case, to suppress your existence totally?” said Choumaque. 

“When the Superman wishes to take me!” affirmed the half-man, with pious respect. 

André Couvreur, 1904

Tuesday

 

“You don’t know the power of precious stones,” he said. “They’re the eyes of inanimate matter, the stars that the earth elaborates through the centuries in its profound night. They attract or repel beings, gazes, fluids and thoughts.”

Édouard Schuré, 1897


Sunday

“Mademoiselle,” I said. “I’m Polyplast 17,177 of the Aristotle Foundation. That title, which might not mean anything to you, is that of a biologist specializing in cases of aphanasia, or Napus. Your friend has just disappeared. We witnessed it, this gentleman and myself.”

Leon Daudet , 1927

Wednesday

 

“For beings of imagination, music without words– symphony or waltz, sonata or fanfare of horns– is the great and artificial manufacturer of dreams. The chance chords make one feel beautiful, rich, glorious, loved. One hears a deep rumbling within himself, like armed vehicles filled with rhymes, sonorous poems; or perhaps one suffers, one groans, one grows emotional, one weeps, one feels his soul get lost in the overly thick shadows or under the decidedly distant stars; and at the back of oneʼs skull, like penitent phantoms, strophes exit and slide in cadence; or maybe itʼs a flight, an orgiastic whirlwind, kisses that one steals and cups one breaks, while the diverse timbres of the orchestra respond, striking chords like the feet of ballerinas on an elastic parquet.

Emile Gondeau, 1888

Sunday

“In the midst of adoration and ritual precaution, they kept a fiery stone which the poetic imagination had made into a messenger of the sun. 

“With the brightness of the most beautiful rubies, it was also a perpetual ardent coal. It burned without being consumed, and its redness, which passed from vivid to dark, was not a deceptive symbol. Visible Fire: at its approach all hands, including those of the most pious, became profane. One could no more grasp it than a firebrand. It was intangible, like flame, lightning and mystery. A religious quality, for our corporeal person. And such an object can sustain astonishment better that fetishes of wood or stone. It has not always required as much for people to make of something a god.”

Gabriel de Lautrec, 1903