From Milton's Paradise Lost
Satan rouses his followers to wage war against God
Illustration by Richard Westall [1765 – 1836]
Engraving by Jean Pierre Simon [born before 1750 - died circa 1810]
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Tiberge, of Galliawatch, sent me the following passage by Baudelaire with the note:
"Why don't you comment on Baudelaire's idea of beauty? Or have you already done so? Here it is:"
The quote is from:
Journaux intimes. Fusées. Mon coeur mis à nu (By Charles Baudelaire)
Pp 18-20
The French edition, from 1920, is available here online.
Here is the passage:
J'ai trouvé la définition du Beau, de mon Beau.I will only partially translate it, and write my comments underneath - translation in italics (here is a full translation into English, recommended by Tiberge]:
C'est quelque chose d'ardent et de triste, quelque chose d'un peu vague, laissant carrière à la conjecture. Je vais, si l'on veut, appliquer mes idées à un objet sensible, à l'objet par exemple, le plus intéressant dans la société, à un visage de femme. Une tête séduisante et belle, une tête de femme, veux-je dire, c'est une tête qui fait rêver à la fois, — mais d'une manière confuse, — de volupté et de tristesse ; qui comporte une idée de mélancolie, de lassitude, même de satiété, — soit une idée contraire, c'est-à-dire une ardeur, un désir de vivre, associés avec une amertume refluante, comme venant de privation ou de désespérance. Le mystère, le regret sont aussi des caractères du Beau.
Une belle tête d'homme n'a pas besoin de comporter, aux yeux d'un homme bien entendu, — excepté, peut-être, aux yeux d'une femme, — cette idée de volupté, qui, dans un visage de femme, est une provocation d'autant plus attirante que le visage est généralement plus mélancolique. Mais cette tête contiendra aussi quelque chose d'ardent et de triste, — des besoins spirituels, — des ambitions ténébreusement refoulées, — l'idée d'une puissance grondante et sans emploi, — quelquefois l'idée d'une insensibilité vengeresse (car le type idéal du dandy n'est pas à négliger dans ce sujet); quelquefois aussi, — et c'est l'un des caractères de beauté les plus intéressants — le mystère, et enfin (pour que j'aie le courage d'avouer jusqu'à quel point je me sens moderne en esthétique), le malheur. Je ne prétends pas que la Joie ne puisse pas s'associer avec la Beauté, mais je dis que la Joie est un des ornements les plus vulgaires, tandis que la Mélancolie en est pour ainsi dire l'illustre compagne, à ce point que je ne conçois guère (mon cerveau serait-il un miroir ensorcelé?) un type de Beauté où il n'y ait du Malheur. Appuyé sur — d'autres diraient: obsédé par—ces idées, on conçoit qu'il me serait difficile de en pas conclure que le plus parfait type de Beauté virile est Satan, — à la manière de Milton.
J'ai trouvé la définition du Beau, de mon Beau
I have found the definition of the Beautiful, my beautiful
[KPA: He is rather pompous, giving us "his" definition.]
C'est quelque chose d'ardent et de triste, quelque chose d'un peu vague
It is something passionate and sad, a little vague
[KPA: He gives it a definite, strong definition, then goes into the anticlimactic "sad" and "vague."]
He then wants to use it to describe a woman's beauty, a woman's face.
...une tête de femme, veux-je dire, c'est une tête qui fait rêver à la fois, — mais d'une manière confuse, — de volupté et de tristesse ; qui comporte une idée de mélancolie, de lassitude, même de satiété,
...a woman's head, I would like to say, is a head that makes one dream both of voluptuousness and of sadness, but in a confused way; which carries with it melancholy, laziness and even satisfaction.
[KPA: A seductive and beautiful face, he explains, is a woman's face. It is a face of dreams (and fantasies?), but a face which evokes sadness, weariness, and even melancholy.]
Why this negative approach towards a beautiful woman's face?
Even the life he gives to a woman's face, a woman's beauty, is negative:
[U]ne ardeur, un désir de vivre, associés avec une amertume refluante, comme venant de privation ou de désespérance
an ardour, a desire to live, linked with a returning bitterness, due to some lack or desperation.
[KPA: Bitterness and desperation are words that he uses, as he "livens up" a beautiful woman's face.]
Perhaps this is it. He continues:
Le mystère, le regret sont aussi des caractères du Beau.
Mystery, regret are also characteristics of the Beautiful
[KPA: Has he been rejected that many times by beautiful women that he has resorted to bitterness?]
Je ne prétends pas que la Joie ne puisse pas s'associer avec la Beauté, mais je dis que la Joie est un des ornements les plus vulgaires, tandis que la Mélancolie en est pour ainsi dire l'illustre compagne...
I don't claim that Joy cannot associate with Beauty, but, I say that Joy is one of the coarsest of ornaments, whereas Melancholy is, as it were, its exemplary companion.
[KPA: He admits that joy can be associated with beauty, but he finds this joy vulgar, whereas melancholy is beauty's best companion.]
...à ce point que je ne conçois guère (mon cerveau serait-il un miroir ensorcelé?) un type de Beauté où il n'y ait du Malheur.
...at this point, I cannot conceive of (could my brain be a bewitched mirror?) a kind of Beauty where there is no misery.
[KPA: Beauty is linked with misery for Baudelaire.]
...il me serait difficile de en pas conclure que le plus parfait type de Beauté virile est Satan, — à la manière de Milton.
...I would find it difficult not to conclude that the perfect kind of masculine Beauty is the Satan, - as Milton wrote.
[KPA: As much as a woman't beauty may best be associated with melacholy and a vague sadness, he is more definitive about masculine beauty: the perfect type of virile beauty is that of Satan.]
In any case, beauty can have no redeeming factors for Baudelaire.
I think this horror of beauty, and its association with Satan in Baudelaire's case, comes from artists (and people) who have rejected God. Looking for beauty without God puts us in Satan's territory, where the beautiful becomes horrifically transformed.
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Here is Baudlelaire's Les Litanies de Satan.
I have reproduced the complete poem, in English, below, to show Baudelaire's distorted and corrupted mind.
The Litanies of Satan[Here's a brief background on the poem from Wikipedia]
O thou, of all the Angels loveliest and most learned,
To whom no praise is chanted and no incense burned,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
O Prince of exile, god betrayed by foulest wrong,
Thou that in vain art vanquished, rising up more strong,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
O thou who knowest all, each weak and shameful thing,
Kind minister to man in anguish, mighty king,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Thou that dost teach the leper, the pariah we despise,
To love like other men, and taste sweet Paradise,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
O thou, that in the womb of Death, thy fecund mate,
Engenderest Hope, with her sweet eyes and her mad gait,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Thou who upon the scaffold dost give that calm and proud
Demeanor to the felon, which condemns the crowd,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Thou that hast seen in darkness and canst bring to light
The gems a jealous God has hidden from our sight,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Thou to whom all the secret arsenals are known
Where iron, where gold and silver, slumber, locked in stone,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Thou whose broad hand dost hide the precipice from him
Who, barefoot, in his sleep, walks on the building's rim,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
O thou who makest supple between the horses' feet
The old bones of the drunkard fallen in the street,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Thou who best taught the frail and over-burdened mind
How easily saltpeter and sulphur are combined,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Thou that hast burned thy brand beyond all help secure,
Into the rich man's brow, who tramples on the poor,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
O thou, who makest gentle the eyes and hearts of whores
With kindness for the wretched, homage for rags and sores,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Staff of the exile, lamp of the inventor, last
Priest of the man about whose neck the rope is passed,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
O thou, adopted father of those fatherless
Whom God from Eden thrust in terror and nakedness,
Satan, have pity upon me in my deep distress!
Prayer
Glory and praise to thee, Satan, in the most high,
Where thou didst reign; and in deep hell's obscurity,
Where, manacled, thou broodest long! O silent power,
Grant that my soul be near to thee in thy great hour,
When, like a living Temple, victorious bough on bough,
Shall rise the Tree of Knowledge, whose roots are in thy brow!
— Charles Baudelaire
Translation by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1936.
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Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
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