Source of book: I own this
This book is one of the random finds I made in late 2023, during our epic holiday season of used book shopping in multiple states.
I had not read any Anatole France before, but had heard that he was considered one of the best satirists in the French language. The Revolt of the Angels is also the sort of book that got mentioned and alluded to by numerous authors of the 20th Century - Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and Henry Miller, among others.
In any case, finding a boxed Heritage edition in good shape and at a good price was a bit of a no-brainer.
And, now that I have read it, I can attest that it is indeed quite funny, and a wicked satire on human nature.
The book picks up the story of Paradise Lost some time after the end of that classic. As in, the book starts in modern (for 1914) Paris, France, which is where many of those fallen angels have chosen to take up residence. And, let’s just say that I would be surprised if Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett hadn’t read this book, because there are some ideas in this book that are taken up in Good Omens. Including the central idea that there are fallen angels who actually love humanity and work to better their lives.
We first meet the d’Esparveiu family - an old, respectable family, whose patriarch has established a rather immense and incredible library of books, most of them about theology and philosophy. The library is managed rather dictatorially by the eccentric librarian, Sariette, who prefers that the books stay where they are, rather than being touched by others.
But things go wrong for him when, suddenly, books start going missing. And occasionally turning up in strange places: a gutter in town, the guest house, for example, but mostly in careless stacks elsewhere in the library. The worst part is that there is no feasible way anyone could be breaking in and stealing them.
Sariette tries multiple ways of catching the thief, but nothing works. Finally, he spends the night, and sees books literally floating around in the air. Everyone decides he is just going crazy.
But then, the next incident throws light on the events. Young Maurice d’Esparveiu is, as is his custom, getting it on with his current mistress, when suddenly a shadowy figure gradually comes into view.
It turns out that Maurice’s guardian angel, bored and frustrated that Maurice continues to indulge in the sins of the flesh, has taken to reading through the theological works in the library (hence the book issues), and has, shall we say, lost his faith.
It is difficult to describe just how funny this scene is - getting caught by your guardian angel in flagrante delicto - the way France writes it.
He has realized that God is no more than a minor angel who has convinced everyone that he is the creator of the universe. (This is a Gnostic teaching in certain traditions.)
In any case, he has decided to give up his heavenly job and rebel, which makes him become visible. It turns out that there are many like him, living in the world as if they were humans - an artist, a book collector, a banker, and an anarchist chemist are a few of the characters in the story.
Arcade, as the angel calls himself, has decided that he will now try to incite a second attempt at the overthrow of Heaven - another Revolt of the Angels.
Here, I do have to give a spoiler alert, because I want to talk about the ending later, because it is, in my view, the core idea of the book. If you don’t want a spoiler, just go with “things happen” and leave it at that. On the other hand, I do not feel bad about spoiling a book well over 100 years old.
It helps to understand that France was a socialist, in that era before Stalin and Mao remade Marx’s diagnosis of the ills of society and a utopian vision for a better world into just another brand of totalitarian abuse of humanity and a rigid ideology to sacrifice people to. (In other words, a practice far closer to Fascism than to either the prior socialist experiments or the social democracies of today.)
A lot of what France satires in this book still plagues our society today, from the way financiers get rich off of wars to the hypocrisy of religious leaders ignoring real social issues while lining their own pockets.
There are a few things that are not as familiar to 21st Century American readers, but will get a smile from those of us who have read French literature since childhood. The French concept of the mistress isn’t really a thing in America, but it is certainly ripe for a good satire. (I mean, at least as far back as Rabelais, this has been done. Some forms of humor never get old.)
The one thing about the book that I didn’t find as good was the middle section, which is a rather long diatribe about history. I mean, the idea is interesting: that the fallen angels have done the work of Prometheus in introducing humans to fire and culture. And also that much of what religion - particularly post-Constantine Christianity - has been negative, and an actual fight against equality and human thriving. This is sad, but pretty true, unfortunately.
I was less convinced of the claim that Ancient Greece and Rome were the pinnacle of human development, however. Not diminishing the culture of that time, but it wasn’t the utopia a lot of people - particularly white supremacist and authoritarian sympathizers these days - claim it was.
My bigger issue with this section is that it went on and on for chapters, and bogged down the actual narrative. It could have made the same point with fewer words, or, alternately, been broken up with other narrative.
I should also note a certain amount of casual anti-semitism, which is pretty much endemic in European literature before Hitler - even among Jewish writers.
But notwithstanding, the book is really a good read, and the story on the sides of the dissertation make the rest of it worth it.
The humor is rarely in the form of one-line quips, but more in slowly unfolding scenes with satirical details that gradually form into increasingly absurd and humorous observations. That said, I do want to quote some lines.
At twenty-five Maurice possessed the wisdom of Ecclesiastes. Doubting whether a man hath any profit of all his labour which he taketh under the sun he never put himself out about anything. From his earliest childhood this young hopeful’s sole concern with work had been considering how he might best avoid it, and it was through his remaining ignorant of the teaching of the Ecole de Droit that he became a doctor of law and a barrister at the Court of Appeal.
Yes, that is a lawyer joke slipped in there.
Although he had enjoyed Madame de Aubel’s favours for six whole months, Maurice still loved her…No other woman had inspired him with feelings of such constancy and fidelity.
I am reminded a bit of the poem by Sir John Suckling:
Out upon it, I have lov'd
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.
Time shall molt away his wings
Ere he shall discover
In such whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.
But the spite on't is, no praise
Is due at all to me:
Love with me had made no stays
Had it any been but she.
Had it any been but she
And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
A dozen dozen in her place.
I also want to quote Arcade’s description of his deconstruction.
“I have lost my faith.”
“What? You no longer believe in God?”
“I believe in Him, since my existence depends on His, and if He should fail to exist, I myself should fall into nothingness. I believe in Him, even as the Satyrs and Maenads believed in Dionysus and for the same reason. I believe in the God of the Jews and the Christians. But I deny that He created the world; at the most He organized but an inferior part of it, and all that He touched bears the mark of His rough and unforeseen touch. I do not think He is either eternal or infinite, for it is absurd to conceive of a being who is not bounded by space or time. I think Him limited, even very limited. I no longer believe Him to be the only God. For a long time He did not believe it Himself; in the beginning He was a polytheist; later, His pride and the flattery of His worshippers made Him a monotheist.”
This is a fascinating passage, not least because the earliest-written portions of the Bible assume a polytheistic universe, with YHWH as merely one of the gods.
So why does Arcade decide to incite a revolt, rather than just find a place in Paris?
Having, he explained, studied Nature, he had found her in perpetual conflict with the teachings of the Master he served. This Master, greedy of praise, whom he had for a long time adored, appeared to him now as an ignorant, stupid, and cruel tyrant.
I am with Arcade here. Particularly when it comes to Evangelical God™, who so much resembled a cruel tyrant like Trump decades before the election, I do not see anything worthy of worship. One could certainly argue that Jesus Christ looks nothing like Evangelical God™ - and in fact not only me but most of the atheists I know have noticed this lack of resemblance.
Speaking of humans and their tendencies, how about this on-point line from Zita, the hostile feminist of the fallen angels?
“You, Arcade, you believe in Science; you deem that men and angels are capable of understanding, whereas, in point of fact, they are only creatures of sentiment. You may be quite sure that nothing is to be obtained from them by appealing to their intelligence; one must rouse their interests and their passions.”
Sigh. I wish that were not true.
There are a lot of references to art in this book. For example, one of my very favorite painters, Delacroix, is mentioned at various points.
I won’t quote, but will mention the discussion of what angels do and do not look like (within the universe of the book.) Arcade notes that wings are optional, and only the old Greeks and Romans got the look right anyway - he specifically mentions the Victory of Brescia. Which is a pretty awesome first century bronze.
The various other fallen angels are each satires of certain types. For example, Sophar (living as Max Everdingen, a Jewish banker) is in favor of the war because of the potential for profit.
In the exercise of this function, Sophar contracted a love of riches which could not be satisfied in a state of society in which banks and stock exchanges are alike unknown. His heart flamed with an ardent love for the god of the Hebrews to whom he remained faithful during a long course of centuries. But at the commencement of the twentieth century of the Christian era, casting his eyes down from the height of the firmament upon France, he saw that this country, under the name of a Republic, was constituted as a plutocracy and that, under the appearance of a democratic government, high finance exercised sovereign sway, untrammeled and unchecked.
That, unfortunately, also describes the United States of my lifetime, post Reagan, when the economy was handed over to the plutocrats, to plunder the rest of us.
There is another rather funny scene. Theophile is an angel who does not want to join the revolt, because he prefers to spend his time with art and music - and especially with his human mistress, the dance hall singer Bouchette. Trouble comes later in the book, when Prince Istar, who is a bit too big for his wings, so to speak, decides to make a move on her.
Now, Istar might have solicited Bouchotte’s favors; he might have invited her to a rapid, and, withal, mutual embrace, and, despite her preoccupation and excitement, she would not have refused him. But Bouchotte was a girl of spirit. The merest hint of coercion awoke all her untameable pride. She would consent of her own accord, yes; but be mastered, never! She would yield to love, curiosity, pity, to less than that even, but she would die rather than yield to force. Her surprise immediately gave place to fury.
As a result, Istar ends up soaking his bruised face in a bowl of haricot beans. The little touches like that make the humor.
Bouchotte agrees to take part in fundraiser to preserve a country church, though.
Bouchotte agreed to take part, and accepted the reduced fee with the accustomed liberality of the poor towards the rich and of artists towards society people.
Meanwhile, Maurice is furious with Arcade for abandoning him. He tracks him down with the intention of convincing him to return to his post. But Arcade feels he cannot in good faith pretend to be what he no longer is. Poor Maurice.
“No,” sighed Maurice. “You do not love me. You have never loved me. In a brother or a sister such indifference would be natural; in a friend, it would be ordinary; in a guardian angel it is monstrous. Arcade, you are an abominable being. I hate you.”
And later in the conversation:
“Stay-”
“I cannot.”
“I shall not let you go thus. You have deprived me of my guardian angel. It is for you to repair the injury you have caused me. Give me another one.”
Arcade objected that it was difficult for him to satisfy such a demand. That having quarreled with the sovereign dispenser of guardian spirits, he could obtain nothing from that quarter.
Maurice then decides that he must become Arcade’s guardian angel in that case. This leads to some unfortunate events. First, Maurice and the angels get into a confrontation with a local constable who dies of natural causes. Then, Arcade seduces Maurice’s mistress, leading to a duel, which ends badly for Maurice, because angels cannot die. It’s a real mess, and Maurice also ends up on the outs with his parents as a result of all this.
All of these scenes are quite funny. The one where Maurice is confronted by his parents is particularly amusing, including this description of Maurice’s mother.
He loved his mother and respected her. His love, however, was more a matter of duty than of inclination, and his respect arose from habit rather than from feeling. Madame Rene d’Esparvieu’s complexion was blotchy , and having powdered herself in order to appear to advantage at the domestic tribunal, the colour of her face suggested raspberries sprinkled over with sugar.
Maurice also fails in convincing Arcade to give up his dream of overthrowing God. Arcade is hell-bent on this, even as the coalition seems shaky, with everyone having their own agenda. One of the interesting lines in this regard is this one.
“Can it be that we are the sport of financiers?”
“Pooh!” said the beautiful archangel. “War is a business. It has always been a business.”
Eisenhower would approve of that line. Even at the big meeting, there are some who were there for…other reasons.
French cooking is the best in the world. It is a glory that will transcend all others when humanity has grown wise enough to put the spit above the sword.
I agree with that sentiment. And, to a degree, with the dig at American chefs. I mean, have you seen cookbooks from the 1910s? It’s not yet to the level of absurdity it would reach in the 1950s, but it leaves things to be desired.
The ending, as I noted, is quite interesting. The angels make their plea to Satan to lead the revolt. He agrees to sleep on it, and give them the answer in the morning. After a dream of the final battle, he realizes the profound truth of human nature, and the nature of power.
“Comrades,” said the great archangel, “no - we will not conquer the heavens. Enough to have the power. War engenders war, and victory defeat.
“God, conquered, will become Satan; Satan, conquering, will become God. May the fates spare me this terrible lot.”
Or, as the Who put it, “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss…” Or Orwell’s Animal Farm. The structures of power must be dismantled, or oppression will simply be reconstructed with new faces in old places. Power corrupts. Equality creates a way forward.
This was quite the fascinating book, hilarious at times, and one that has aged fairly well in most respects. I do hope to add some more Anatole France to my library in the future, if I can find good editions in translation like this one.
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