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m
POEMS
IN

PROSE

POEMS IN PROSE
FROM

CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

TRANSLATED BY

ARTHUR SYMONS

LONDON ELKIN MATHEWS, CORK STREET

1913

First Published,

November

905

Reprinted,

May

19 1

**

8 6 684 8

The
and
says

" Petits Poemes en Prose " are experiments,

they are also confessions.
Baudelaire in

"

Who

of us,"

his dedicatory

preface, " has

not dreamed, in

moments of ambition, of

the

miracle of a poetic prose, musical without

rhythm

and without rhyme, subtle and staccato enough

to

follow

the

lyric

motions of the

soul,

the

wavering
starts

outlines

of meditation,
r

the

sudden

of the conscience

"

This miracle he has

achieved in these bagatelles laborieusei, to use his

own

words, these
is

astonishing

trifles,

in

which
perfect

the art

not

more novel,

precise

and

than the quality of thought and of emotion.

translatine
into

In
little

English

few of these
so

masterpieces,
delight
for so

which have given me

much
to

many

vears,

have

tried

be

absolutely faithful to the sense, the words, and

the

rhythm of the

original.

A.

S.

CONTENTS

The Favours
The Moon, who
through
the
is

of the

Moon
looked
in in

caprice

itself,

window when you

and
said

lay asleep
:

your

cradle,

inwardly

" This

is

child after

my own
came

soul."
softly

And

she

down

the

staircase

of
the

the clouds, and

passed

noiselessly

through

window-pane.

Then

she laid herself upon you

with the supple tenderness of a mother, and she

left

her colours upon your face.

are

That
cheeks

is

why

your eyes

green

and your
9

extra-

POEMS
ordinarily pale.
that your pupils
It

IN

PROSE
at

was when you looked

so strangely
;

her,

widened

and she

clasped her arms so tenderly about your throat

that ever since

you have had the longing

in

for tears.

Nevertheless,

the

flood
like

of her

joy,

the

Moon
sphere,

filled

the
a

room

a phosphoric
;

atmothis

like

luminous

poison
:

and

all

living light thought

and

said

"

My

kiss shall

be

upon you

for ever.

You

shall be

beautiful as I

am

beautiful.

You
I

shall love that

which

love

and that by which

night and silence
less
;

am

loved

water and clouds,

;

the vast green sea

;

the form-

and multiform water

never be
; ;

the place where you

shall

the lover
flowers

whom
;

you

shall

never

know

unnatural
;

odours which make

men drunk
and sob
like

the cats that languish

upon pianos
!

women, with
10

hoarse sweet voices

THE FAVOURS OF THE MOON

"
by

And you

shall

be loved by

my lovers,
be

courted

my

courtiers.

You

shall

the queen of

men who have

I

green eyes, and whose throats

in

have clasped by night

love

my

caresses

of those

that
sea,

the

sea,

the

vast

tumultuous green
the
place

formless

and
are

multiform water,
not,

where they

the

woman whom
are

they
like

know

not,

the

ominous flowers that

the censers of an

unknown

rite,

the odours that

trouble the will, and the savage and voluptuous

beasts that are the

emblems of

their folly."
spoilt child,

And
I lie

that
at

is

why, accursed dear

feet,

now

your

seeking to find in you

goddess, the
fateful
all

the

image of the
the

fearful

godmother,

poisonous

nurse

of

the

moonstruck of the world.

II

II

Which
I

is

True
filled

knew

one Benedict?,

who

earth and air

with the ideal; and from whose eyes

men

learnt

the desire of greatness, of beauty, of glory, and

of

all

whereby we
this
;

believe in immortality.

But
live

miraculous child was too beautiful to

long

and she died only a few days

after I

had come to

know

her,

and

buried her with

my own my own

hands, one day

when
I

Spring shook out

buried her with
into
a
coffin

her censer in the graveyards.

hands,
shut

down
12

ot

WHICH

IS

TRUE

wood, perfumed and incorruptible

caskets.

like

Indian

And
laid

as I

still

gazed at the place where

had

away my

treasure, I

saw

all

at

once a

little

person singularly like the deceased,

who

trampled

on the

fresh

soil

with a strange and hysterical

:

violence, and said, shrieking with laughter

at

"Look

me

I I

am
am

the real Benedicta

!

a pretty sort of
for

baggage
ness

And

to punish

you

your blind-

and

folly. you shall love

me
I

just as I

am

"
!

But
no
!

Ia

.Jo

rurious,

and

answered:

"No!
to

no
I

"
!

And

to add

more emphasis
ground

my

refusal

stamped on
foot that

the

so violently
to the

with
in

my

my

leg sank

up
;

knee
like

the earth of the

new
a

grave
I

and now,

wolf caught

in

trap,

remain

fastened,

perhaps for ever, to the grave of the

*3

ideal.

"

Ill

" L'Invitation au Voyage

There

is

a wonderful

country, a
I

country of

Cockaigne, they say, which

with an old
lost call in
it

dr^-med of visiting
je country,
*tyne might

friend.

It

i*

the mists of our

in

the

East of the
freely does a

West, the China of

Europe, so

warm

and capricious

fancy flourish
sistently

there,

and so patiently and perillustrated

it

has

that

fancy

with

learned and delicate vegetation.

real

country of Cockaigne, where every-

14

"L'INVITATION
thing
order
is

AU VOYAGE"
honest
;

beautiful,

rich, quiet,

where

is

the likeness and the mirror of luxury

life
is

where

fat,

and sweet

to

breathe

where

disorder,

tumult,

and the unexpected are shut

is

out

where happiness
is

wedded
rich

to

silence

where even cooking

flavoured at once
in
;

poetic,
all,

and highly
is

where

dear love,

made

your image.

You know
over us in

that feverish sickness

which comes

ou
lan.t>,

miseries, that nostalgia of

at

unknown
There
all
is

anguish
in

of

curiosity?

is

a country

made

your image, where

beautiful, rich, quiet

and honest

where

fancy has built and decorated a western China,

where
is

life

is

sweet to breathe, where happiness

It
is

wedded
it is

to silence.

there that
!

we

should

live,

there that

we

should die
15

POEMS
Yes,
it is

IN PROSE

there that

we

should breathe, dream,

and

lengthen out the hours

by the

infinity of

sensations.

A
la

musician has written an " Invi:

tation

Valse "
au

who
'"

will

compose the
can
offer

" Imitation

Voyage

that

we
r

to

the beloved, to the chosen sister

Yes,

it

is

in this

atmosphere that

it

would be

good to

live

far off,

where slower hours contain

strike

more
with
a

thoughts,

where clocks

happiness

deeper and more significant solemnity.

shining
panels,

On
a

or on gilded

leather
life

of

dark

richness,

slumbers

the discreet

of

pictures,

deep,
painters

calm, and

devout as
it.

the

souls

of the

who

created

The

sunsets

which colour

so richly the walls

sifted
tall

of dining-room

and drawing-room, are

hangings
or

through beautiful

through

wrought

windows

16

"

L'INVITATION

AU VOYAGE
The

"

leaded into

many

panes.

pieces or furni-

ture are large, curious, and fantastic,

locks

armed with
Mirrors,
potter}',

and

secrets

like

refined

souls.

metals, hangings, goldsmith's

work and
and

play

for

the
;

eyes

mute
all

mysterious

symphony

and

from
cracks

things,

from every
and from

corner, from the

of drawers

the folds of hangings, exhales a singular odour,

a

"forget-me-not" of Sumatra, which

is,

as

it

were, the soul of the abode.

A
where

real
all

country of Cockaigne,
is

assure

you,
like

beautiful, clean,

and shining,

a clear conscience, like a bright array of kitchen

crockery,

like

splendid

jewellery

of gold, like
!

many-coloured
treasures

jewellery

of

silver

All
their

the

of the
the

world

have

found

way

there, as to

house of a hard-working
17 c

man

POEMS
who
has

IN PROSE
in

put

the

whole world

his

debt.

Singular country, excelling others as Art excels

Nature, where Nature

is

refashioned by dreams,

where

Nature

is

corrected,

embellished,

re-

moulded.

Let the alchemists of horticulture seek and

seek again,
let

them

set ever

further and further

!

back the limits to

offer prizes of sixty
florins

their happiness

Let them

and of a hundred thousand

will
I

to
!

whoever

sohe
have
!

their

ambitious

problems

For me,

found

my

" black

tulip" and

my

" blue dahlia"

Incomparable flower, recaptured

dahlia,
it

tulip, allegoric

is

there,

is

it

not,
full

in

that

beautiful

country, so calm and so

live

of dreams, that you

and

flourish

There, would you not be

framed within your

own

analog}-,

and would you

18

'L'INVITATION

AU VOYAGE"
"

not see yourself again, reflected, as the mystics

say, in

your

own " correspondence

!

Dreams, dreams ever

and ambitious the
estrange
it

and the more

further

delicate

soul, the

do dreams

from

possible

things.

Every man
opium,
birth

carries within himself his natural dose of

ceaselessly secreted
to

and renewed, and, from

hours

death,

how many
pleasure,
Shall

can

we

reckon

of

positive

of successful
ever
live
in,

and
shall

decided

action
pass

we

we

ever

into,

that

picture

which
in

my mind
?

has

painted, that picture

made
this

your image
this

These

treasures,

furniture,

luxury,

this order, these odours, these

miraculous flowers,

are you.

You

too are the great rivers and the

quiet canals.

The

vast

ships

that

drift

down

them, laden with

riches,

from whose decks comes

c 2

19

POEMS
the sound of the
sailors,

IN

PROSE

monotonous songs of labouring

rise

are

my

thoughts which slumber or

breast.
is

and

fall

on your
sea,

You

lead

them

softly

towards the

which

the infinite, mirroring

the depths of the sky in the crystal clearness of

your soul

and when, weary of the surge and

spoils of the East,
it is still

heavy with the

they return to

the port of their birth,

my

thoughts that

come back enriched out of

the infinite to you.

20

IV

The Eyes of
An
dav.
!

the Poor

you want
It

to

know why J
less

hate

you

to-

will

probably be
for

easy for you to

it

understand than

me

to explain

to

you

for

you

are,

think, the

most perfect example of

feminine impenetrability that could possibly be

found.

We
seemed

had spent a long day together, and

to

it

had

me

short.

We

had

promised one

another that

we would

think the same thoughts

and that our two souls should become one soul

21

POEMS
a

IN PROSE
all,

dream which
dreamed by

is

not original, after

except

that,

all

men,

it

has been realised by

none.

In

the evening
sat

you were a

little

tired,

and

you
of a

down

outside a
still

new

cafe"

at the corner

new

boulevard,

littered
its

with plaster and

splen-

already displaying proudly

dours.

unfinished

The

cafe

glittered.

The

very gas put

on

all

the fervency of a fresh start, and lighted

its

up with
the

full

force the blinding whiteness of

in

walls,

the dazzling sheets of glass

the

mirrors, the gilt of cornices and mouldings, the

chubby-cheeked

pages
the

straining
ladies

back

from
the

hounds
falcons

in

leash,

laughing at

on

their

wrists, the

nymphs and godand game on

their
at

desses carrying fruits and pies

heads, the

Hebes and Ganymedes holding out

22

THE EYES
arm's-length
little jars

OF

THE POOR

of syrups or parti-coloured

obelisks of ices

the whole

of history and of
to

mythology brought together

for

make
to

a paradise
us,

gluttons.

Exactly

opposite

in

the

roadway, stood a
age, with
a

man

of about forty

years

of

weary

face

and

greyish

beard,

holding a

little

boy by one hand and carrying

a
little

on the other arm

walk.

fellow

too

weak

to

He was

taking the

nurse-maid's

place,
in

and had brought

the
faces

his children

out for a walk

rags.

evening.

All

were

in

The
and
cafe

three
six

were extraordinarily
fixedly
at

serious,

the

eyes stared

the

new

with

an

equal admiration, differentiated in each according

to age.

The
how

father's eyes said

it is
!

"

How

beautiful

it is

beautiful

One would
23

think that

all

the

POEMS

IN PROSE
found
its

gold of the poor world had

these
walls."
it is
!

way
"

to

The
how

boy's

eyes
it

said
!

How
is

beautiful

beautiful

is

But

that

house which only people

enter."

who

are not like us can

As

for the little one's eyes,

they were

too fascinated to express anything but stupid and

utter joy.

Song-writers
soul

say

that

pleasure

ennobles

the

and

softens

the

heart.
I

The song was

was concerned.
family of eyes,
glasses
thirst.

right that

evening, so far as
I

Not only was

but
I
felt

touched by

this

rather

ashamed of our
too

and
I

decanters, so

much

much

for

our

turned to look at you, dear love, that I might

read

my own

thought

in

you

gazed deep into

your eyes, so beautiful and so strangely sweet, your green eyes that are the home of caprice and

24

THE EYES OF THE POOR

under
vou
the
to

sovereignty

of

the

Moon
are

and
insup!

said

me
me

" Those
their

people

portable to

with

staring saucer-eyes

Couldn't you

tell

the head waiter to send

them

away
So

"
?

hard

is

it

to

understand
is

one

another,

dearest,

and so incommunicable
in love

thought, even

between people who are

25

Windows
He who
sees so

looks in through an open

window never

many

things as he
is

who

looks at a shut

window.

There

nothing
fertile,

more profound,
more
gloomy,

more mvsterious, more

or

more

dazzling, than a

window
see
in

lighted by a
is

candle.

What we
less

can

the sunlight

always

interesting than

what goes on behind

the panes of a window.

In that dark or lumi-

nous hollow,

life lives, life

dreams,

life suffers.

Across the waves of

roofs, I

can see a

woman

26

WINDOWS
of middle age, wrinkled,
leaning over something, and
poor,

who

is

always

who

never goes out. of her

Out

of her face, out of her dress, out

attitude, out of

nothing almost,

have made up
I

the
to

woman's

story,

and sometimes

say

it

over

myself with
If
it

tears. I

had been a poor old man,

his just as easily.

could have

made up

And

go to bed, proud of having lived and

suffered in others.

Perhaps you will say to

that
it is

me

"Are you
does
it

sure

the real story

"

What

matter,

what does any

if it

reality outside of

myself matter,

has helped
I

me

to live, to feel that I

am, and

what

am

VI

Crowds
It
is

not given to every

:

man

to take a bath of
is

multitude

to play

upon crowds
at the

an

art

and

he alone can plunge,

expense of human-

kind, into a debauch of vitality, to

whom

a fairy

has bequeathed in his cradle the love of masks

and

disguises, the hate of

home and

the passion

of travel.

Multitude,
convertible

solitude

equal

terms

mutually
poet.

by the active and

begetting

He who

does not

know how
28

to people his soli-

CROWDS
tude, does not

know

either

how

to be alone in a

busy crowd.

The
to

poet enjoys

this

incomparable privilege,

be at once himself and others.

souls that

Like those

wandering

go about seeking bodies, he

enters at will the personality of every

man.
if

For

him

alone, every place

is

vacant

and

certain
is

places

seem
in

to
his

be
eyes

closed against

him, that

because

they

are

not

worth

the

trouble of

visiting;.

The
singular

solitary

and thoughtful walker derives a

from
this

intoxication

universal

com-

munion.

He who

mates easily with the crowd

knows

feverish joys that

to the egoist, shut

must be

for ever

un-

known

up

like a coffer,
shell-fish.
all

and

to the sluggard,

imprisoned like a

He
the

adopts for his

own

all

the

occupations,

29

POEMS
joys and
all

IN

PROSE

the sorrows that circumstance sets

before him.

What men

call

love

is

small indeed, narrow

this

and weak indeed, compared with

ineffable

orgie, this sacred prostitution of the soul

which
!)

gives itself

up wholly (poetry and charity

to

the unexpected
as

which happens,

to the stranger

he
It

passes.
is

good sometimes that the happy of

it

this

world should learn, were

foolish pride for

only to humble their

an instant, that there are higher,

wider, and rarer joys than theirs.

The

founders

of colonies, the shepherds of nations, the missionary priests, exiled to the ends of the earth,
doubtless

know something
;

of these

mysterious
vast

intoxications

and,

in

the

midst

of the

family that their genius has raised about them,

CROWDS
they
those

must sometimes laugh

at

the

thought of

who

pity

them

for their chaste lives

and

troubled fortunes.

31

VII

The Cake
I

was

travelling.
I

The

landscape in the midst of

irresistible

which

was seated was of an

Something
from
it

grandeur
at

and sublimity.

no doubt

that

moment

passed

into

my

soul.

My
hate
far

thoughts fluttered with a lightness like that of

the atmosphere
;

vulgar

passions, such as
to

and

profane
as

love,

seemed
that

me now
in

as

away

the

clouds
feet
;

floated

the
to

gulfs
as

beneath
vast

my

my

soul

seemed

me

and pure

as the

dome
32

of the sky that en-

THE CAKE
veloped

me

the

remembrance of earthly things

came
the

as faintly to

my

heart as the thin tinkle or

herds,

bells

of

unseen

browsing

far,

far

away, on the slope of another mountain.

the
little

Across

motionless lake, black with the darkness

there passed from time to

of

its

immense depth,

time the shadow of a cloud, like the shadow of

an airy giant's cloak, flying through

heaven.

And

remember
caused

that this rare and solemn senvast

sation,

by a

and

perfectly

silent
fear.

movement,

filled

me

with mingled joy and

In a word, thanks to the enrapturing beauty about

me,

I felt that I

was

at perfect peace
;

with myself
in

and with the universe

even believe that,

all

my

complete forgetfulness- of

earthly evil, I

had come to think the newspapers are right after

all,

and

man was

born good

when,

incorrigible

33

POEMS
matter renewing
fresh
its

IN PROSE
I

exigences,

sought to re-

the fatigue and satisfy the appetite caused

I

by so lengthy a climb.
a

took from

my

pocket

large

piece

of bread, a

leathern cup, and a

small bottle of a certain elixir which the chemists

at

that

time sold to

tourists,

to be mixed,

on

occasion, with liquid snow.

I

was quietly cutting

my
I

bread

when

a slight

noise

made me
ragged

look up.
urchin,

saw

in

front of

me

little

dark

and

dishevelled,

whose hollow
voured

eyes,

wild and

supplicating, deI

the piece of bread.

And

heard him
:

gasp, in a low, hoarse voice, the

I

word

" Cake

"
!

could not help laughing at the appellation with

fit

which he thought

to

honour

my

nearly white
it

bread, and I cut off a big slice and offered

to
his

him.

Slowly he came up to me, not taking

34

THE CAKE
eyes from the coveted object
it
;

then, snatching
if

out of

my

hand, he stepped quickly back, as

he feared that

my

offer

was not
it.

sincere, or that I

had already repented of

But

at the

same

instant he

was knocked over

had sprung from
I

by another

little

savage,

who

know
the

not where, and

that one

who was

so precisely like
for

first

might have taken them

rolled over

twin brothers.
together,

They

on the ground
of the
it

struggling

for

the

possession

precious booty, neither willing to share

his

with

brother.

The

first,

exasperated,

clutched

the second by the hair

and the second seized

one of the
spat out a
in
dialect.

ears of the first

little

between

his teeth,

and

bleeding morsel with a fine oath

legitimate
his
little

The
to

proprietor

of the
the

cake tried

hook

claws

into

35

d 2

POEMS
usurper's eyes
his
;

IN

PROSE

the latter did his best to throttle

adversary

with one hand, while

to slip

with

the

other he

endeavoured

the prize

of war

into his pocket.

loser

But, heartened by despair, the

together,

pulled

himself

and

sent

the
in his

victor sprawling with a

blow of the head

stomach.

Why

describe a hideous fight

which

indeed lasted longer than their childish strength

seemed
hand
to

to promise

The

cake travelled

from
to

hand,

and changed from pocket

pocket, at everv
also
in

moment

but, alas,
at

it

changed

size

and when
bleeding,

length, exhausted,

panting

and

they

stopped

from the

sheer impossibility

of going on, there was no

j

longer

any cause of feud

the slice of bread

in

had

disappeared,

and lay scattered

it

crumbs

like the grains

of sand with which

was mingled.

36

THE CAKE
The
and
had
sight had darkened the landscape for

me,
soul

dispelled the joyous

lain basking
;

calm

in

which

my

remained saddened
over

for quite

a long

time, saying over and

is

to myself:
in

"There
bread
it

then a wonderful country

which

is

called cake,

and

is

so rare a delicacy that

rise to

is

enough
"
!

in itself to give

war

literally

fratricidal

37

VIII

Evening Twilight

The

day

is

over.

great restfulness descends

;

into poor

minds that the day's work has wearied

and thoughts take on the tender and dim colours

of twilight.
Nevertheless from the

mountain

peak there

comes to

my

balcony, through the transparent

clouds of evening, a great clamour,

made up of a

crowd of discordant
a

cries, dulled

by distance into

mournful harmony,

like that

of the rising tide

or of a storm brewing.

38

EVENING TWILIGHT

Who
brings

are the hapless ones to

;

whom

evening

no calm

to
is

whom,
the

as to

the owls, the

a

coming of night
sabbath
?

signal

for

witches'
to

The

sinister

ululation

comes
;

me

from the hospital on the mountain

evening, as I smoke, and look

and, in the
the quiet
houses,
is

down on

of the

immense

valley,

bristling

with

each of whose windows seems to say, " Here

peace,

here
the

is

domestic

happiness

"

can,

when

wind blows from the

with
this

heights, lull

my

astonished thought

imitation

of the

harmonies of

hell.

Twilight excites madmen.

remember
quite
ill.

had

two
of

friends

whom
all

twilight

made

One

them

lost

sense
at

of social
the

and

friendly
like

amenities,
savage.
I

and

flew

first-comer

have seen him throw

at the waiter's

39

POEMS

IN

PROSE
in

head an excellent chicken,

he

which he imagined
hieroglyph.
spoilt

had

discovered

some

insulting

Evening, harbinger of profound delights,

for

him the most succulent

things.

The
turned
sourer,

other, a prey to disappointed ambition,

gradually,

as

the

daylight

dwindled,
Indulpitiless

more gloomy, more nettlesome.

gent and sociable during the day, he was

in the

evening

and

it

was not only on

others,

but on himself, that he vented the rage of his

twilight mania.

The

former died mad, unable to recognise

;

his

wife and child

the latter

still

keeps the restless;

ness of a perpetual disquietude

and,

if all

the

honours that republics and princes can

confer

were heaped upon him,

believe that the twilight

would

still

quicken

in

him
40

the burning envy of

EVENING TWILIGHT
imaginary
distinctions.

Night,

which put

its

own
mine

brings light to darkness into their minds,

;

and, though

it

is

by no means

rare

for

opposite results, the same cause to bring about

I

am
it.

always as

it

were perplexed and alarmed

by

O
the

night

refreshing dark
to an

for

me you

are

summons

inner
!

feast,

you are the

deliverer

from anguish

In the solitude of the

of a city, scintillaplains, in the stony labyrinths

tion of stars, outburst of gas-lamps,

you are the

fireworks of the goddess Liberty

Twilight,
tender
!

how

gentle

you
still

are

and

how

The

rosy lights that

linger

on the

horizon, like

the

last
its

agony of day under the

night
;

conquering might of

the flaring candle-

Hames

glories of that stain with dull red the last

41

POEMS
the sunset
;

IN PROSE

the heavy draperies that an invisible

hand draws out

of

the

depths

of the
that
at

East,

mimic

all

those complex feelings

in the heart
life.

war on

one another

of

man

the solemn

moments

of

Would you

not say that

it

was one of those

strange costumes

worn by

dancers, in which the

tempered splendours of
through
a

shining

skirt

show
as,

dark

and

transparent

gauze,

through the darkness of the present, pierces the

delicious past
?

And

the wavering stars of gold

it

and

silver
fires

with which

is

shot, are they not

those

of fancy which

take light never so

of the night
?

well as under the deep

mourning

42

IX

"Anywhere
Life
is

out of the

World"
is

hospital, in

which every patient

of changing
his
fire,

possessed

by the

desire

bed.

One would
another
is

prefer to suffer near the

and
if

certain that he

would get well

he

were by the window.

It
if I

seems to

me

be that I should always

else,
I

happy
of

were somewhere
is

and

this question

moving house
over with

one that

am continually

talking

my

soul.

"Tell me,

my

soul,

poor chilly soul, what do

43

POEMS
you say
to living in

IN PROSE
?

Lisbon

It

must be very
like a

warm
lizard.

there,
It
is

and you would bask merrily,

by the sea; they say that
it is

built

of marble, and that the people have such a horror

of vegetation that

they tear
after

up

all

the

trees.

There

is

country

your

own

soul

country made up of light and mineral, and with

liquid to reflect

them."

My
will

soul

makes no answer.
rest,

" Since you love

and
in

to see

moving

things,

you come and

r

live

that

heavenly land,
in

Holland

Perhaps you

would be happy

a
in

country which you

pictures.

have so often

admired

What

do you say to Rotterdam, you

who

love forests of masts, and ships anchored at

the doors of houses

"
?

My

soul remains silent.

44

''ANYWHERE OUT OF THE WORLD"

"
tive

Or
r

perhaps Java seems to you more attrac-

Well, there

we

shall

find

the

mind of

Europe married

to tropical beautv."

Not

a word.

Can my

soul be dead

" Have you sunk then into so deep a stupor

that

only your
be
so,

own
let

pain gives vou pleasure

If that

us

go

to

the lands that are

I

made

in the likeness

of Death.
!

know
will
still

exactlv

the place for us, poor soul

passage to Torneo.
to

We
will
;

book our
further,
if
it

We
from

go

the

last

limits

of the Baltic
life
;

and,

be

possible,

further
at

still

we

will

make
only

our abode
grazes
light

the

Pole.

There

the sun

the

earth,

and the slow alternations of

in

and night put out variety and bring

the

half of nothingness, monotony.

There we can

take great baths

of darkness, while, from time

45

POEMS
to time, for our

IN

PROSE
Aurora Borealis

pleasure, the

shall scatter its rosy sheaves

before us, like re-

flections of fireworks in hell

"
!

At

last

my
"
!

soul bursts into speech,

:

and wisely

she cries to
the world

me

" Anywhere, anywhere, out of

+6

A
Fancioulle

Heroic Death
an
admirable
buffoon,

was

and

almost one of the friends

for persons

of the Prince.

But

professionally devoted to the comic,

serious things have a fatal attraction, and, strange

as
it

may seem

that

ideas

of patriotism

and

liberty should seize despotically

upon the brain

of a player, one day Fancioulle joined in a conspiracy formed by some, discontented nobles.

There

exist

everywhere sensible

men

to de-

nounce those

individuals of atrabiliar disposition

47

POEMS
who

IN

PROSE

seek to depose princes, and, without conit,

sulting

to reconstitute society.

The

lords in

question were arrested, together with Fancioulle,

and condemned
I

to death.

would

readily believe

that the Prince

was

almost

sorry to find his favourite actor

among

the rebels.

The

Prince was neither better nor

;

worse than any other prince

sensibility

but an excessive
cases,
his

rendered

him,

in

many
all

more

cruel

and

more despotic than

fellows.

Passionately enamoured of the fine arts, an excellent connoisseur as well, he

was

truly insatiable
in

of pleasures.

Indifferent

enough

regard

to

men and

morals, himself a real

artist,

he feared
efforts

no enemy but Ennui, and the extravagant

that he

made

to fly or to vanquish this tyrant of

the world would certainly

have

brought upon

48

A HEROIC DEATH
him, on
the
part of a

severe
it

historian,

the
in

epithet of " monster," had

his

been permitted,

dominions, to write anything whatever which

did not tend exclusively to pleasure, or to astonish-

ment, which
pleasure.

is

one of the most delicate forms of

great

The

misfortune of the Prince

vast

was that he had no theatre

genius.

enough

for his

There

are

young Neros who

are stifled

within too narrow limits, and whose names and

whose intentions
ages.
this

will never be

known

to future

An

unforeseeing Providence had given to

man

faculties greater

than his dominions.

Suddenly the rumour spread that the sovereign

had decided to pardon
all

the conspirators

and

the origin of this rumour was the announcement

of a

special

performance

in

which Fancioulle
and
at

would play one of

his best rSles,

which

49

POEMS

IN PROSE
it

even the condemned nobles,

be
present,

was

said,

were

to

an

evident

sign,

added

superficial

minds, of the generous tendencies of the Prince.

On
virtue,

the part ot a

man

so

naturally and de-

liberately eccentric,

anything was possible, even

if

even mercy, especially

it

he could hope

to find in

unexpected pleasures.

But

to those

who,

like

myself, had succeeded in penetrating

further into the depths of this sick and curious

soul,
it

was

infinitely

more probable

that the

Prince was wishful to estimate the quality of the

scenic
talents

of a

man condemned

to

death.

He would

profit

by the

occasion to obtain a

physiological experience of a capital interest, and

to

verify

to

what extent the

habitual faculties

of an

artist

would be

altered or modified by the

extraordinary situation in which he found him-

50

A HEROIC DEATH
self.

Beyond

this,

did there exist in his

mind an
?

intention,
is

more

or less defined, of

mercy

It

a point that has never been solved.

At

last,

the great day having come, the

all
its

little

court displayed
difficult to

pomps, and

it

would be
it,

realise,

without having seen

what
state

splendour the

privileged classes of a

little

with
really

limited

resources
occasion.

can show

forth,

on a
doubly
display

solemn

This was

a
its

solemn one, both from the wonder of

and from the mysterious moral

to
it.

interest attaching

The

Sieur

Fancioulle

excelled

especially

in

parts either silent or little

burdened with words,

in those fairy

such as are often the principal ones

plays

whose object
life.

is

to represent symbolically

the mystery of

He came upon
51

the stage

e 2

POEMS
lightly

IN PROSE
ease,

and with a perfect

support,
in the

which

in

itself

lent

some
to

minds of the noble

and
forgive-

public,
ness.

the

idea

of kindness

When we
actor,"

say of an actor,

"This

is

good

we make

use of a formula

which implies
distinguish

that under the personage

we

can

still

the actor, that

if

is

to say, art, effort, will.

in

Now,

an actor should succeed

being, in relation

to the personage

whom he
finest

is

appointed to express,
statues

precisely

what the

of antiquity,
seeing,

miraculously animated, living,

walking,

would be

in relation to the confused general idea

of beauty, this would be, undoubtedly, a singular

and

unheard
a

of

case.

Fancioulle

was,
it

that

evening,

perfect

idealisation,

which

was
real.

impossible not to suppose living, possible,

52

A HEROIC DEATH
The
buffoon

came and went, he laughed, wept,

indestructible

was convulsed, with an

aureole
all,

about his head, an aureole invisible to

visible

but
in a

to

me, and

in

which were blended,

Art and
I

strange

amalgam, the rays of

the

martyr's glory.

Fancioulle brought, by

know

not what special grace, something

supernatural
buffooneries.

divine and

into

even

the

most extravagant
tears of

My

pen trembles, and the

I

an

emotion which

cannot forget

rise

to

my

eyes, as I try to describe to

you

this never-to-be-

forgotten evening.
a peremptory,

Fancioulle proved to me, in

an irrefutable way, that the intoxiis

cation of Art

surer than

all

others to veil the

terrors of the gulf; that genius

can act a comedy

a joy that
it
is,

on the threshold of the grave with

hinders
it

from seeing the grave, 53

lost, as

in

POEMS

IN PROSE
all

a Paradise shutting out

thought of the grave

and of destruction.

The whole
was, soon
artist.
fell

audience, blase and frivolous as

it

under the all-powerful sway of the

a

Not

thought was

left

of death,

of

mourning, or of punishment.
selves up,

All gave them-

without disquietude, to the manifold

delights caused

by the sight of a masterpiece of

of joy and
admiration
the edifice

living

art.

Explosions

again and again shook the

dome of

with the energy of a continuous thunder.

Prince
himself,
in

The
in

an

ecstasy,

joined

the

applause of his court.

Nevertheless, to a discerning eye, his emotion

was not unmixed.

quered in
his

Did he
as despot
?

feel

himself con-

power

humiliated in his

art as the striker

of terror into hearts, of chill

54

A HEROIC DEATH
into
souls
?

Such

suppositions,

not

exactly

justified,

but not absolutely unjustifiable, passed

through

my mind

as I

contemplated the face of

the Prince, on which a

spread
its

new

pallor gradually over-

habitual paleness, as
lips

snow overspreads

snow.
and

His

compressed
his

themselves tighter

tighter,

and

eyes

lighted

up with an

inner

fire like

that of jealousy or of spite, even

while he applauded the talents of his old friend,

the strange buffoon,

who

played the buffoon so

well in the face of death.

I

At

a certain a

moment,
page,
ear.

saw

his

Highness lean towards

behind

little

stationed

him, and whisper

in
lit

his

The

roguish face of the pretty child

up with

a smile, and he briskly quitted the Prince's box

as if to

execute some urgent commission.

later a shrill

few minutes

and prolonged

hiss

55

POEMo
interrupted

IN
in

prom:
one
of
his finest

Fancioulle

moments, and rent

alike every ear

and heart.

And from
this

the

part of the house

from whence

unexpected note of disapproval had sounded, a

child darted into a corridor

with

stifled laughter.

Fancioulle,

shaken, roused out of his dream,

closed his eyes, then re-opened

them, almost

at

once, extraordinarily wide, opened his mouth as

if

to

breathe
little

convulsively,

staggered

a
fell

little

forward, a

backward, and then

stark

dead on the boards.

Had
the
all

the hiss, swift as a sword, really frustrated

r

hangman

Had

the Prince himself divined

?

the homicidal efficacy of his ruse

it.

It

is

per-

mitted to doubt

Did he
r

regret his dear and

is

inimitable Fancioulle

It

sweet and

legiti-

mate

to believe

it.

56

A HEROIC DEATH
The
guilty nobles had enjoyed the performance
last

of comedy for the

time

They were

effaced

from

life.

Since then,

many mimes,

justly appreciated in

different countries,

have played before the court

of
to

but none of them have ever been able

the

recall

marvellous talents

of Fancioulle,

or to rise to the

same favour.

SI

XI

Be Drunken
Be
that

always
is

drunken.

Nothing
If

else

matters

the only question.

you would not

feel

the horrible burden of

Time weighing on your

to

shoulders

and crushing vou

the

earth,

be

drunken continually.

Drunken
poetry,
or

with

what

With

wine,
will.

with

with virtue, as you

But be

drunken.

And

ir

sometimes, on the
side of a

stairs

of a palace, or
in

on the green

ditch, or

the dreary

58

BE
solitude of your

DRUNKEN
should awaken

own room, you

and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped

away from you,

ask of the wind, or of the wave,

or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, of

whatever
speaks, ask
star,

flies,

or sighs,
it is

or rocks, or sings,
;

or

what hour
clock, will

and the wind, wave,

:

bird,

answer you

"
if

It

is

the

hour

to be

drunken

Be drunken,

you would

not be martyred slaves of

continually
virtue, as
!

Time

be drunken

With
will."

wine, with poetry, or with

you

59

XII

Epilogue

With

heart at rest I climbed the citadel's

Steep height, and saw the city as from a tower,

Hospital, brothel, prison, and such hells,

Where

evil

comes up

softly like a flower.

Thou
Not
But,

knowest,

Satan, patron of

my

pain,

for vain tears I

went up

at that

hour

like

an old sad faithful lecher, fain

trull

To

drink delight of that enormous

hellish

Whose

beauty makes

me young

again.

60

EPILOGUE
Whether thou
sleep,
or,

with heavy vapours

full,

Sodden with day,

new

apparelled, stand

In gold-laced veils of evening beautiful,

I love thee,

infamous city

Harlots and

Hunted have

pleasures of their

own

to give,

The

vulvar herd can never understand.

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No. I. Sonnets of No. 2. Sonnets of No. 3. Sonnets of No. 4. Songs of a Scollard. No. 5. Songs from C. Chamberlin.

Lucilla. Lucilla. Lucilla.

Third

Series.

Syrian Lover.

By Clinton
By T.

the Forest of Tane.

%* Other Volumes in preparation. THE SAVILE SERIES. Demy i8mo. Boards,

it. net.

The Song of a Woman. By Mrs. George Cran. Verses by the Way. By M. H. Bourchier. Simon Dean, and other Poems. By Sandys Wason.

ELKIN MATHEWS, Cork

Street,

W.

*7 b

'SEP 2 &

1"