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Charles Baudelaire:

A Brief Commentary and Two Poems from LES FLEURS du MAL.

 

 

Full four decades and more ago, I was that most earnest of creatures, a Lance Corporal of Marines, 19 years old, incredibly skinny, the leader of a Machine Gun Section in the Landing Force of a gun boat called USS Little Rock.  We’d just returned from the revolution in the Caribbean that followed the assassination of the infamous Dominican despot, Rafael Trujillo.

When we returned to US Naval Base, Norfolk, Virginia and liberty call sounded, I went ashore and wandered into a used book store near the waterfront. I picked up a book with the curious title, FLOWERS OF EVIL. I didn’t read much before I was hooked, bought the book for one dollar, and ever since that fateful moment, I’ve been fascinated with the life and work of the French Poet, Charles Baudelaire.

He was born in 1821. In our times, he would run a very good risk of being institutionalized—perhaps in prison for his opium addiction, or in a mental institution and/or on heavy doses of antipsychotics because of the chaos of his emotional life.

Baudelaire had a mistress, Jean Duvall, with whom he was totally obsessed. You might  think of her as being that person you met as an undergraduate on that lost weekend in Acapulco. You came back to your sane and ordered life, hoped for the best, and tried to forget that it ever happened. She’s often charitably described as being “an actress,” and a “lesbian.” In fact, you might as well describe her as a member of a much older profession and polymorphous perverse in her sexual orientation. Baudelaire, to the abject horror of his very aristocratic mother, stayed with Jean his whole life through until his death, comatose and blind from neurosyphillis at the age of 46 in 1867. Below is one of the milder erotic poems he wrote of his love for that dreadfully flawed woman, and perhaps you can hear resonating still the intensity of his affection for her.

 

Tout Entière  

 

The Devil up my attic stair

Came tiptoeing a while ago

And, trying to catch me unaware,

Said laughing, “I should like to know,

 

“Of all her many charms, what springs

Most often to your mind? Of all

The rose-colored and shadowy things

Whereby her beauty may enthrall,

 

“Which is the sweetest?” –O my soul,

I answered the abhorrèd Guest:

Her beauty is complete and whole.

No single part is loveliest,

 

“When she is near, I cannot say

What gives me such intense delight,

She dazzles like the break of day,

She comforts like the fall of night,

 

”My senses seem to merge in one,

The harmony that rules her being

Is all my knowledge – I have none

Of hearing, smelling, touching, seeing.

 

“No, I cannot make a choice

In this sublime bewilderment.

Perhaps the music of her scent!

Perhaps the perfume of her voice!

                                                   

 

I hope she was impressed by the brilliance of his metaphor as was I.

The above poems are taken from a 1936 volume. Edna St. Vincent Millay and George Dillon undertook the tricky business of translating Les Fleurs du Mal so that it worked as well in English as it did in French.

My favorite of Baudelaire’s poems, though, is “The Albatross,” which gives insight into the tortured persona of the author. Listen closely, and perhaps you can hear what so captivated the unschooled, profane and cynical heart of that young machine gunner in the used book store those years ago:

 

The Albatross

 

Sometimes, to entertain themselves, the men of the crew

Lure upon the deck an unlucky albatross, one of those vast

Birds of the sea that follow unwearied the voyage through,

Flying in slow and elegant circles above the mast.

 

No sooner have they disentangled him from their nets

Than this aerial colossus, shorn of his pride,

Goes hobbling pitiably across the planks and lets

His greet wings hang like heavy, useless oars at his side.

 

How droll is the poor floundering creature, how limp and weak –

He, but a moment past so lordly, flying in state!

They tease him: One of them tries to stick a pipe in his beak;

Another mimics with laughter his odd lurching gait.

 

The Poet is like that wild inheritor of the cloud,

A rider of storms, above the range of arrows and slings:

Til exiled on earth, at bay amid the jeering crowd,

He cannot walk for his unmanageable wings.  

 

So there you have him: Charles Baudelaire. According to many of his contemporaries, he was not a moral person -- his works were banned early on for their blasphemous and sexual content, and he was certainly not a wise man in the conduct of his affairs. His personal life was an ongoing tragedy. But for all that he was not, he was a Poet. And what a Poet!

 

 

The above is derived from a presentation for Toastmasters at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 4.19.02. John R. Guthrie

 

 

 

The Chickasaw Plum  -  Volume I - Number 3 - November 2004

 

 

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