XCII.
– LES AVEUGLES
Contemple-les,
mon âme; ils sont vraiment affreux !
Pareils
aux mannequins ; vaguement ridicules ;
Terribles,
singuliers comme les somnambules ;
Dardant
on ne sait où leurs globes ténébreux.
Leurs
yeux, d’où la divine étincelle est partie,
Comme
s’ils regardaient au loin, restent levés
Au
ciel ; on ne les voit jamais vers les paves
Pencher
rêveusement leur tête appesantie.
Ils
traversent ainsi le noir illimité,
Ce
frère du silence éternel. O cité !
Pendant
qu’autour de nous tu chantes, ris et beugles,
Eprise
du Plaisir jusqu’a l’atrocité,
Vois
! je me traîne aussi ! mais, plus qu’eux hébété,
Je
dis : Que cherchent-ils au Ciel, tous ces aveugles ?
XCII.
– THE BLIND
Look
at them, my soul ; aren’t they awful !
Like
mannequins ; slightly ridiculous ;
Terribly
singular like somnambules,
Canes
darting about in a darkened world.
Their
eyes, where the divine spark is gone,
Since
they look to the distance, remain raised
To
the sky ; you never see them looking at the ground
Stooping
almost dreamily their worn-down heads.
They
cross unlimited space in this manner.
These
brothers of the eternal silence. O city !
While
everything about you sings, cries, laughs,
Addicted
to pleasure to the point of atrocity,
See!
I trail behind also ! but, even more
dazed then they,
I
say : What do they look for in the Sky, all of those blind ?
While translating the above poem Les Aveugles by
Baudelaire, which appears in the Tableaux Parisiens section of Les
Fluers Du Mals, I couldn’t help but think of James Joyce and in particular
chapter 3 of Ulysses in which Stephen Dedalus apes the blind walking
across Sandymount Strand.
Stephen
closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and
Shells.
You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A
very
short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the
Nacheinander.
Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible.
Open
your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetle o’er his base, fell
through
the Nebeneinander ineluctably! I am getting on nicely in the dark.
My
ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it, they do. My two feet in his boots
are
at the end of his legs, nebeneinander. Sounds solid: made by the mallet
of
Los demiurgos. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand?
Crush,
crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie kens them a’.
Won’t
you come to Sandymount,
Madeline
the mare?[1]
What is really interesting about Joyce’s passage above
is the reference to ‘nebeneinander’ which the Annotations to James
Joyce’s Ulysses assure me is a reference to an essay published in 1766 by
Gotthold Ephrain Lessing in an essay titled Laokoon oder über die Grenzen
der Mahlerey und Poesie ( Laocoön, or On the Limits of Painting and Poetry)
in which Lessing makes the case that each art has its limitations in terms of
expression, painting, for example should concern itself with space, imagine a
landscape painting by Claude Lorraine, for example, in which perspective is so important,
whereas literature is more temporal; The
Iliad attempts to tell the story of the famous battle in various stages of
succession, for example. For Joyce such views must have appeared so
antiquated, which is why we can see him joking at Lesssing’s expense, and to
all traditionalists, in the passage above. Joyce was clearly inspired by
Rimbaud’s famous cris de guerre calling on the systematic deregulation
of the senses[2]
‘Le Poète se fait voyant par un long, immense et raisonné dérèglement
de tous les sens.’ This is a really interesting line of enquiry in
terms of Joyce scholarship, as this was to become in Finnegans Wake a
whole area of exploration which Joyce in Ulysses is merely hinting at in
comparison. Vico will take over from where Rimbaud got started, in terms of
linguistic interplay on the sensory front, this is a whole area of research in
itself, but suffice it to say that here in Baudelaire’s poem Les Aveugles we
have a beginning or port of entry into the genesis of Dedalus’s game of
blindman’s bluff, as it were!
[1] Joyce, James: Ulysses,
Edited by Hans Walter Gabler With Wolfhard Steppe and Claus Melchior Afterword
by Michael Groden, The Bodley Head, London, 1993, p.31.
[2] Rimbaud, Arthur: Rimbaud –
Complete Works, Selected Letters, Translation, Introduction and Notes by
Wallace Fowlie with the French Texts, The University of Chicago Press, 1966 (
First Edition), p.306.
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