APPENDIX III

1Sait-tu l'oubliD'un vain doux rêve,Oiseau moqueurDe la forêt?Le jour pâlit,La nuit se lève,Et dans mon cœurL'ombre a pleuré;2O chante-moiTa folle gamme,Car j'ai dormiCe jour durant;Le lâche emoiOù fut mon âmeSanglote ennuiLe jour mourant....3Sais-tu le chantDe sa paroleEt de sa voix,Toi qui redisDans le couchantTon air frivoleComme autrefoisSous les midis?4O chante alorsLa mélodieDe son amour,Mon fol espoir,Parmi les orsEt l'incendieDu vain doux jourQui meurt ce soir.Francis Vielé-Griffin.

Sait-tu l'oubliD'un vain doux rêve,Oiseau moqueurDe la forêt?Le jour pâlit,La nuit se lève,Et dans mon cœurL'ombre a pleuré;

O chante-moiTa folle gamme,Car j'ai dormiCe jour durant;Le lâche emoiOù fut mon âmeSanglote ennuiLe jour mourant....

Sais-tu le chantDe sa paroleEt de sa voix,Toi qui redisDans le couchantTon air frivoleComme autrefoisSous les midis?

O chante alorsLa mélodieDe son amour,Mon fol espoir,Parmi les orsEt l'incendieDu vain doux jourQui meurt ce soir.

Francis Vielé-Griffin.

BLUE BIRD

1Canst thou forget,In dreams so vain,Oh, mocking birdOf forest deep?The day doth set,Night comes again,My heart has heardThe shadows weep;2Thy tones let flowIn maddening scale,For I have sleptThe livelong day;Emotions lowIn me now wail,My soul they've kept:Light dies away....3That music sweet,Ah, do you knowHer voice and speech?Your airs so lightYou who repeatIn sunset's glow,As you sang, each,At noonday's height.4Of my desire,My hope so bold,Her love—up, sing,Sing, 'neath this light,This flaming fire,And all the goldThe eve doth bringEre comes the night.

Canst thou forget,In dreams so vain,Oh, mocking birdOf forest deep?The day doth set,Night comes again,My heart has heardThe shadows weep;

Thy tones let flowIn maddening scale,For I have sleptThe livelong day;Emotions lowIn me now wail,My soul they've kept:Light dies away....

That music sweet,Ah, do you knowHer voice and speech?Your airs so lightYou who repeatIn sunset's glow,As you sang, each,At noonday's height.

Of my desire,My hope so bold,Her love—up, sing,Sing, 'neath this light,This flaming fire,And all the goldThe eve doth bringEre comes the night.

No. 2

And here are some verses by the esteemed young poet Verhaeren, which I also take from page 28 of his Works:—

ATTIRANCES

Lointainement, et si étrangement pareils,De grands masques d'argent que la brume recule,Vaguent, au jour tombant, autour des vieux soleils.Les doux lointaines!—et comme, au fond du crépuscule,Ils nous fixent le cœur, immensément le cœur,Avec les yeuxdéfunts de leurvisage d'âme.C'est toujours du silence, à moins, dans la pâleurDu soir, un jet de feu soudain, un cri de flamme,Un départ de lumière inattendu vers Dieu.On se laisse charmer et troubler de mystère,Et l'on dirait des morts qui taisent un adieuTrop mystique, pour être écouté par la terre!Sont-ils le souvenir matériel et clairDes éphèbes chrétiens couchés aux catacombesParmi les lys? Sont-ils leur regard et leur chair?Ou seul, ce qui survit de merveilleux aux tombesDe ceux qui sont partis, vers leurs rêves, un soir,Conquérir la folie à l'assaut des nuées?Lointainement, combien nous les sentons vouloirUn peu d'amour pour leurs œuvres destituées,Pour leur errance et leur tristesse aux horizons.Toujours! aux horizons du cœur et des pensées,Alors que les vieux soirs éclatent en blasonsSoudains, pour les gloires noires et angoissées.Émile Verhaeren,Poèmes.

Lointainement, et si étrangement pareils,De grands masques d'argent que la brume recule,Vaguent, au jour tombant, autour des vieux soleils.

Les doux lointaines!—et comme, au fond du crépuscule,Ils nous fixent le cœur, immensément le cœur,Avec les yeuxdéfunts de leurvisage d'âme.

C'est toujours du silence, à moins, dans la pâleurDu soir, un jet de feu soudain, un cri de flamme,Un départ de lumière inattendu vers Dieu.

On se laisse charmer et troubler de mystère,Et l'on dirait des morts qui taisent un adieuTrop mystique, pour être écouté par la terre!

Sont-ils le souvenir matériel et clairDes éphèbes chrétiens couchés aux catacombesParmi les lys? Sont-ils leur regard et leur chair?

Ou seul, ce qui survit de merveilleux aux tombesDe ceux qui sont partis, vers leurs rêves, un soir,Conquérir la folie à l'assaut des nuées?

Lointainement, combien nous les sentons vouloirUn peu d'amour pour leurs œuvres destituées,Pour leur errance et leur tristesse aux horizons.

Toujours! aux horizons du cœur et des pensées,Alors que les vieux soirs éclatent en blasonsSoudains, pour les gloires noires et angoissées.

Émile Verhaeren,Poèmes.

ATTRACTIONS

Large masks of silver, by mists drawn away,So strangely alike, yet so far apart.Float round the old suns when faileth the day.They transfix our heart, so immensely our heart,Those distances mild, in the twilight deep,Looking out of dead faces with their spirit eyes.All around is now silence, except when there leapIn the pallor of evening, with fiery cries,Some fountains of flame that God-ward do fly.Mysterious trouble and charms us infold,You might think that the dead spoke a silent good-by,Oh! too mystical far on earth to be told!Are they the memories, material and bright,Of the Christian youths that in catacombs sleep'Mid the lilies? Are they their flesh or their sight?Or the marvel alone that survives, in the deep,Of those that, one night, returned to their dreamOf conquering folly by assaulting the skies?For their destitute works—we feel it seems,For a little love their longing criesFrom horizons far—for their errings and pain.In horizons ever of heart and thought,While the evenings old in bright blaze waneSuddenly, for black glories anguish fraught.

Large masks of silver, by mists drawn away,So strangely alike, yet so far apart.Float round the old suns when faileth the day.

They transfix our heart, so immensely our heart,Those distances mild, in the twilight deep,Looking out of dead faces with their spirit eyes.

All around is now silence, except when there leapIn the pallor of evening, with fiery cries,Some fountains of flame that God-ward do fly.

Mysterious trouble and charms us infold,You might think that the dead spoke a silent good-by,Oh! too mystical far on earth to be told!

Are they the memories, material and bright,Of the Christian youths that in catacombs sleep'Mid the lilies? Are they their flesh or their sight?

Or the marvel alone that survives, in the deep,Of those that, one night, returned to their dreamOf conquering folly by assaulting the skies?

For their destitute works—we feel it seems,For a little love their longing criesFrom horizons far—for their errings and pain.

In horizons ever of heart and thought,While the evenings old in bright blaze waneSuddenly, for black glories anguish fraught.

No. 3

And the following is a poem by Moréas, evidently an admirer of Greek beauty. It is from page 28 of a volume of his Poems:—

ENONE AU CLAIR VISAGE

Enone, j'avais cru qu'en aimant ta beautéOù l'âme avec le corps trouvent leur unité,J'allais, m'affermissant et le cœur et l'esprit,Monter jusqu'à cela qui jamais ne périt,N'ayant été crée, qui n'est froideur ou feu,Qui n'est beau quelque part et laid en autre lieu;Et me flattais encor' d'une belle harmonieQue j'eusse composé du meilleur et du pire,Ainsi que le chanteur qui chérit Polimnie,En accordant le grave avec l'aigu, retireUn son bien élevé sur les nerfs de sa lyre.Mais mon courage, hélas! se pâmant comme mort,M'enseigna que le trait qui m'avait fait amantNe fut pas de cet arc que courbe sans effortLa Vénus qui naquit du mâle seulement,Mais que j'avais souffert cette Vénus dernière,Qui a le cœur couard, né d'une faible mère.Et pourtant, ce mauvais garçon, chasseur habile,Qui charge son carquois de sagette subtile,Qui secoue en riant sa torche, pour un jour,Qui ne pose jamais que sur de tendres fleurs,C'est sur un teint charmant qu'il essuie les pleurs,Et c'est encore un Dieu, Enone, cet Amour.Mais, laisse, les oiseaux du printemps sont partis,Et je vois les rayons du soleil amortis.Enone, ma douleur, harmonieux visage,Superbe humilité, doux honnête langage,Hier me remirant dans cet étang glacéQui au bout du jardin se couvre de feuillage,Sur ma face je vis que les jours ont passé.Jean Moréas.

ENONE

Enone, in loving thy beauty, I thought,Where the soul and the body to union are brought,That mounting by steadying my heart and my mind,In that which can't perish, myself I should find.For it ne'er was created, is not ugly and fair;Is not coldness in one part, while on fire it is there.Yes, I flattered myself that a harmony fineI'd succeed to compose of the worst and the best,Like the bard who adores Polyhymnia divine,And mingling sounds different from the nerves of his lyre,From the grave and the smart draws melodies higher.But, alas! my courage, so faint and nigh spent,The dart that has struck me proves without failNot to be from that bow which is easily bentBy the Venus that's born alone of the male.No, 'twas that other Venus that caused me to smart,Born of frail mother with cowardly heart.And yet that naughty lad, that little hunter bold,Who laughs and shakes his flowery torch just for a day,Who never rests but upon tender flowers and gay,On sweetest skin who dries the tears his eyes that fill,Yet oh, Enone mine, a God's that Cupid still.Let it pass; for the birds of the Spring are away,And dying I see the sun's lingering ray.Enone, my sorrow, oh, harmonious face,Humility grand, words of virtue and grace,I looked yestere'en in the pond frozen fast,Strewn with leaves at the end of the garden's fair space,And I read in my face that those days are now past.

No. 4

And this is also from page 28 of a thick book, full of similar poems, by M. Montesquiou.

BERCEUSE D'OMBRE

Des formes, des formes, des formesBlanche, bleue, et rose, et d'orDescendront du haut des ormesSur l'enfant qui se rendort.Des formes!Des plumes, des plumes, des plumesPour composer un doux nid.Midi sonne: les enclumesCessent; la rumeur finit....Des plumes!Des roses, des roses, des rosesPour embaumer son sommeil,Vos pétales sont morosesPrès du sourire vermeil.O roses!Des ailes, des ailes, des ailesPour bourdonner à sont front,Abeilles et demoiselles,Des rythmes qui berceront.Des ailes!Des branches, des branches, des branchesPour tresser un pavillon,Par où des clartés moins franchesDescendront sur l'oisillon.Des branches!Des songes, des songes, des songesDans ses pensers entr' ouvertsGlissez un peu de mensongesA voir le vie au traversDes songes!Des fées, des fées, des féesPour filer leurs écheveauxDes mirages, de boufféesDans tous ces petits cerveaux.Des fées!Des anges, des anges, des angesPour emporter dans l'étherLes petits enfants étrangesQui ne veulent pas rester....Nos anges!Comte Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac,Les Hortensias Bleus.

Des formes, des formes, des formesBlanche, bleue, et rose, et d'orDescendront du haut des ormesSur l'enfant qui se rendort.Des formes!

Des plumes, des plumes, des plumesPour composer un doux nid.Midi sonne: les enclumesCessent; la rumeur finit....Des plumes!

Des roses, des roses, des rosesPour embaumer son sommeil,Vos pétales sont morosesPrès du sourire vermeil.O roses!

Des ailes, des ailes, des ailesPour bourdonner à sont front,Abeilles et demoiselles,Des rythmes qui berceront.Des ailes!

Des branches, des branches, des branchesPour tresser un pavillon,Par où des clartés moins franchesDescendront sur l'oisillon.Des branches!

Des songes, des songes, des songesDans ses pensers entr' ouvertsGlissez un peu de mensongesA voir le vie au traversDes songes!

Des fées, des fées, des féesPour filer leurs écheveauxDes mirages, de boufféesDans tous ces petits cerveaux.Des fées!

Des anges, des anges, des angesPour emporter dans l'étherLes petits enfants étrangesQui ne veulent pas rester....Nos anges!

Comte Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac,Les Hortensias Bleus.

THE SHADOW LULLABY

Oh forms, oh forms, oh formsWhite, blue, and gold, and redDescending from the elm trees,On sleeping baby's head.Oh forms!Oh feathers, feathers, feathersTo make a cozy nest.Twelve striking: stops the clamor;The anvils are at rest....Oh feathers!Oh roses, roses, rosesTo scent his sleep awhile,Pale are your fragrant petalsBeside his ruby smile.Oh roses!Oh wings, oh wings, oh wingsOf bees and dragon-flies,To hum around his forehead,And lull him with your sighs.Oh wings!Branches, branches, branchesA shady bower to twine,Through which, oh daylight, faintlyDescend on birdie mine.Branches!Oh dreams, oh dreams, oh dreamsInto his opening mind,Let in a little falsehoodWith sights of life behind.Dreams!Oh fairies, fairies, fairiesTo twine and twist their threadsWith puffs of phantom visionsInto these little heads.Fairies!Angels, angels, angelsTo the ether far away,Those children strange to carryThat here don't wish to stay....Our angels!

Oh forms, oh forms, oh formsWhite, blue, and gold, and redDescending from the elm trees,On sleeping baby's head.Oh forms!

Oh feathers, feathers, feathersTo make a cozy nest.Twelve striking: stops the clamor;The anvils are at rest....Oh feathers!

Oh roses, roses, rosesTo scent his sleep awhile,Pale are your fragrant petalsBeside his ruby smile.Oh roses!

Oh wings, oh wings, oh wingsOf bees and dragon-flies,To hum around his forehead,And lull him with your sighs.Oh wings!

Branches, branches, branchesA shady bower to twine,Through which, oh daylight, faintlyDescend on birdie mine.Branches!

Oh dreams, oh dreams, oh dreamsInto his opening mind,Let in a little falsehoodWith sights of life behind.Dreams!

Oh fairies, fairies, fairiesTo twine and twist their threadsWith puffs of phantom visionsInto these little heads.Fairies!

Angels, angels, angelsTo the ether far away,Those children strange to carryThat here don't wish to stay....Our angels!

These are the contents of "The Nibelung's Ring":—

The first part tells that the nymphs, the daughters of the Rhine, for some reason guard gold in the Rhine, and sing: Weia, Waga, Woge du Welle, Walle zur Wiege, Wagala-weia, Wallala, Weiala, Weia, and so forth.

These singing nymphs are pursued by a gnome (a nibelung) who desires to seize them. The gnome cannot catch any of them. Then the nymphs guardingthe gold tell the gnome just what they ought to keep secret, namely, that whoever renounces love will be able to steal the gold they are guarding. And the gnome renounces love, and steals the gold. This ends the first scene.

In the second scene a god and a goddess lie in a field in sight of a castle which giants have built for them. Presently they wake up and are pleased with the castle, and they relate that in payment for this work they must give the goddess Freia to the giants. The giants come for their pay. But the god Wotan objects to parting with Freia. The giants get angry. The gods hear that the gnome has stolen the gold, promise to confiscate it, and to pay the giants with it. But the giants won't trust them, and seize the goddess Freia in pledge.

The third scene takes place underground. The gnome Alberich, who stole the gold, for some reason beats a gnome, Mime, and takes from him a helmet which has the power both of making people invisible and of turning them into other animals. The gods, Wotan and others, appear and quarrel with one another and with the gnomes, and wish to take the gold, but Alberich won't give it up, and (like everybody all through the piece) behaves in a way to insure his own ruin. He puts on the helmet, and becomes first a dragon and then a toad. The gods catch the toad, take the helmet off it, and carry Alberich away with them.

Scene IV. The gods bring Alberich to their home, and order him to command his gnomes to bring them all the gold. The gnomes bring it. Alberich gives up the gold, but keeps a magic ring. The gods take the ring. So Alberich curses the ring, and says it is to bring misfortune on any one who has it. The giants appear; they bring the goddess Freia, and demand her ransom. They stick up staves of Freia's height, and gold is poured in between these staves: this is to be the ransom. There is not enough gold, so the helmet is thrown in, and they also demand the ring. Wotan refuses to give it up, butthe goddess Erda appears and commands him to do so, because it brings misfortune. Wotan gives it up. Freia is released. The giants, having received the ring, fight, and one of them kills the other. This ends the Prelude, and we come to the First Day.

The scene shows a house in a tree. Siegmund runs in tired, and lies down. Sieglinda, the mistress of the house (and wife of Hunding), gives him a drugged draught, and they fall in love with each other. Sieglinda's husband comes home, learns that Siegmund belongs to a hostile race, and wishes to fight him next day; but Sieglinda drugs her husband, and comes to Siegmund. Siegmund discovers that Sieglinda is his sister, and that his father drove a sword into the tree so that no one can get it out. Siegmund pulls the sword out, and commits incest with his sister.

Act II. Siegmund is to fight with Hunding. The gods discuss the question to whom they shall award the victory. Wotan, approving of Siegmund's incest with his sister, wishes to spare him, but, under pressure from his wife, Fricka, he orders the Valkyrie Brünnhilda to kill Siegmund. Siegmund goes to fight; Sieglinda faints. Brünnhilda appears and wishes to slay Siegmund. Siegmund wishes to kill Sieglinda also, but Brünnhilda does not allow it; so he fights with Hunding. Brünnhilda defends Siegmund, but Wotan defends Hunding. Siegmund's sword breaks, and he is killed. Sieglinda runs away.

Act III. The Valkyries (divine Amazons) are on the stage. The Valkyrie Brünnhilda arrives on horseback, bringing Siegmund's body. She is flying from Wotan, who is chasing her for her disobedience. Wotan catches her, and as a punishment dismisses her from her post as a Valkyrie. He casts a spell on her, so that she has to go to sleep and to continue asleep until a man wakes her. When some one wakes her she will fall in love with him. Wotan kisses her; she falls asleep. He lets off fire, which surrounds her.

We now come to the Second Day. The gnome Mime forges a sword in a wood. Siegfried appears. He is ason born from the incest of brother with sister (Siegmund with Sieglinda), and has been brought up in this wood by the gnome. In general the motives of the actions of everybody in this production are quite unintelligible. Siegfried learns his own origin, and that the broken sword was his father's. He orders Mime to reforge it, and then goes off. Wotan comes in the guise of a wanderer, and relates what will happen: that he who has not learnt to fear will forge the sword, and will defeat everybody. The gnome conjectures that this is Siegfried, and wants to poison him. Siegfried returns, forges his father's sword, and runs off, shouting, Heiho! heiho! heiho! Ho! ho! Aha! oho! aha! Heiaho! heiaho! heiaho! Ho! ho! Hahei! hoho! hahei!

And we get to Act II. Alberich sits guarding a giant, who, in form of a dragon, guards the gold he has received. Wotan appears, and for some unknown reason foretells that Siegfried will come and kill the dragon. Alberich wakes the dragon, and asks him for the ring, promising to defend him from Siegfried. The dragon won't give up the ring. Exit Alberich. Mime and Siegfried appear. Mime hopes the dragon will teach Siegfried to fear. But Siegfried does not fear. He drives Mime away and kills the dragon, after which he puts his finger, smeared with the dragon's blood, to his lips. This enables him to know men's secret thoughts, as well as the language of birds. The birds tell him where the treasure and the ring are, and also that Mime wishes to poison him. Mime returns, and says out loud that he wishes to poison Siegfried. This is meant to signify that Siegfried, having tasted dragon's blood, understands people's secret thoughts. Siegfried, having learnt Mime's intentions, kills him. The birds tell Siegfried where Brünnhilda is, and he goes to find her.

Act III. Wotan calls up Erda. Erda prophesies to Wotan, and gives him advice. Siegfried appears, quarrels with Wotan, and they fight. Suddenly Siegfried's sword breaks Wotan's spear, which had been more powerful than anything else. Siegfried goes intothe fire to Brünnhilda: kisses her; she wakes up, abandons her divinity, and throws herself into Siegfried's arms.

Third Day. Prelude. Three Norns plait a golden rope, and talk about the future. They go away. Siegfried and Brünnhilda appear. Siegfried takes leave of her, gives her the ring, and goes away.

Act I. By the Rhine. A king wants to get married, and also to give his sister in marriage. Hagen, the king's wicked brother, advises him to marry Brünnhilda and to give his sister to Siegfried. Siegfried appears; they give him a drugged draught, which makes him forget all the past and fall in love with the king's sister, Gutrune. So he rides off with Gunther, the king, to get Brünnhilda to be the king's bride. The scene changes. Brünnhilda sits with the ring. A Valkyrie comes to her and tells her that Wotan's spear is broken, and advises her to give the ring to the Rhine nymphs. Siegfried comes, and by means of the magic helmet turns himself into Gunther, demands the ring from Brünnhilda, seizes it, and drags her off to sleep with him.

Act II. By the Rhine. Alberich and Hagen discuss how to get the ring. Siegfried comes, tells how he has obtained a bride for Gunther and spent the night with her, but put a sword between himself and her. Brünnhilda rides up, recognizes the ring on Siegfried's hand, and declares that it was he, and not Gunther, who was with her. Hagen stirs everybody up against Siegfried, and decides to kill him next day when hunting.

Act III. Again the nymphs in the Rhine relate what has happened. Siegfried, who has lost his way, appears. The nymphs ask him for the ring, but he won't give it up. Hunters appear. Siegfried tells the story of his life. Hagen then gives him a draught, which causes his memory to return to him. Siegfried relates how he aroused and obtained Brünnhilda, and every one is astonished. Hagen stabs him in the back, and the scene is changed. Gutrune meets the corpse of Siegfried. Gunther and Hagen quarrel about the ring, andHagen kills Gunther. Brünnhilda cries. Hagen wishes to take the ring from Siegfried's hand, but the hand of the corpse raises itself threateningly. Brünnhilda takes the ring from Siegfried's hand, and when Siegfried's corpse is carried to the pyre, she gets on to a horse and leaps into the fire. The Rhine rises, and the waves reach the pyre. In the river are three nymphs. Hagen throws himself into the fire to get the ring, but the nymphs seize him and carry him off. One of them holds the ring; and that is the end of the matter.

The impression obtainable from my recapitulation is, of course, incomplete. But however incomplete it may be, it is certainly infinitely more favorable than the impression which results from reading the four booklets in which the work is printed.

Translations of French poems and prose quoted in Chapter X.

BAUDELAIRE'S "FLOWERS OF EVIL"

No. XXIV

I adore thee as much as the vaults of night,O vase full of grief, taciturnity great,And I love thee the more because of thy flight.It seemeth, my night's beautifier, that youStill heap up those leagues—yes! ironically heap!That divide from my arms the immensity blue.I advance to attack, I climb to assault,Like a choir of young worms at a corpse in the vault;Thy coldness, oh cruel, implacable beast!Yet heightens thy beauty, on which my eyes feast!

I advance to attack, I climb to assault,Like a choir of young worms at a corpse in the vault;Thy coldness, oh cruel, implacable beast!Yet heightens thy beauty, on which my eyes feast!

BAUDELAIRE'S "FLOWERS OF EVIL"

No. XXXVI

DUELLUM

Two warriors come running, to fight they begin,With gleaming and blood they bespatter the air;These games, and this clatter of arms, is the dinOf youth that's a prey to the surgings of love.The rapiers are broken! and so is our youth,But the dagger's avenged, dear! and so is the sword,By the nail that is steeled and the hardened tooth.Oh, the fury of hearts aged and ulcered by love!In the ditch, where the ounce and the pard have their lair,Our heroes have rolled in an angry embrace;Their skin blooms on brambles that erewhile were bare.That ravine is a friend-inhabited hell!Then let us roll in, oh woman inhuman,To immortalize hatred that nothing can quell!

Two warriors come running, to fight they begin,With gleaming and blood they bespatter the air;These games, and this clatter of arms, is the dinOf youth that's a prey to the surgings of love.

The rapiers are broken! and so is our youth,But the dagger's avenged, dear! and so is the sword,By the nail that is steeled and the hardened tooth.Oh, the fury of hearts aged and ulcered by love!

In the ditch, where the ounce and the pard have their lair,Our heroes have rolled in an angry embrace;Their skin blooms on brambles that erewhile were bare.

That ravine is a friend-inhabited hell!Then let us roll in, oh woman inhuman,To immortalize hatred that nothing can quell!

FROM BAUDELAIRE'S PROSE WORK ENTITLED "LITTLE POEMS"

THE STRANGER

Whom dost thou love best? say, enigmatical man—thy father, thy mother, thy brother, or thy sister?

"I have neither father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother."

Thy friends?

"You there use an expression the meaning of which till now remains unknown to me."

Thy country?

"I ignore in what latitude it is situated."

Beauty?

"I would gladly love her, goddess and immortal."

Gold?

"I hate it as you hate God."

Then what do you love, extraordinary stranger?

"I love the clouds ... the clouds that pass ... there ... the marvelous clouds!"

BAUDELAIRE'S PROSE POEM

THE SOUP AND THE CLOUDS

My beloved little silly was giving me my dinner, and I was contemplating, through the open window of the dining-room, those moving architectures which God makes out of vapors, the marvelous constructions of the impalpable. And I said to myself, amid my contemplations, "All these phantasmagoria are almost as beautiful as the eyes of my beautiful beloved, the monstrous little silly with the green eyes."

Suddenly I felt the violent blow of a fist on my back, and I heard a harsh, charming voice, an hysterical voice, as it were hoarse with brandy, the voice of my dear little well-beloved, saying, "Are you going to eat your soup soon, you d—— b—— of a dealer in clouds?"

BAUDELAIRE'S PROSE POEM

THE GALLANT MARKSMAN

As the carriage was passing through the forest, he ordered it to be stopped near a shooting-gallery, saying that he wished to shoot off a few bullets tokillTime. To kill this monster, is it not the most ordinary and the most legitimate occupation of every one? And he gallantly offered his arm to his dear, delicious, and execrable wife—that mysterious woman to whom he owed so much pleasure, so much pain, and perhaps also a large part of his genius.

Several bullets struck far from the intended mark—one even penetrated the ceiling; and as the charming creature laughed madly, mocking her husband's awkwardness, he turned abruptly toward her and said, "Look at that doll there on the right with the haughty mien and her nose in the air; well, dear angel,I imagine to myself that it is you!" And he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The doll was neatly decapitated.

Then, bowing toward his dear one, his delightful, execrable wife, his inevitable pitiless muse, and kissing her hand respectfully, he added, "Ah! my dear angel, how I thank you for my skill!"

VERLAINE'S "FORGOTTEN AIRS"

No. I

"The wind in the plainSuspends its breath."—Favart.'Tis ecstasy languishing,Amorous fatigue,Of woods all the shudderingsEmbraced by the breeze,'Tis the choir of small voicesToward the gray trees.Oh, the frail and fresh murmuring!The twitter and buzz,The soft cry resemblingThat's expired by the grass....Oh, the roll of the pebbles'Neath waters that pass!Oh, this soul that is groaningIn sleepy complaint!In us is it moaning?In me and in you?Low anthem exhalingWhile soft falls the dew.

"The wind in the plainSuspends its breath."—Favart.

'Tis ecstasy languishing,Amorous fatigue,Of woods all the shudderingsEmbraced by the breeze,'Tis the choir of small voicesToward the gray trees.

Oh, the frail and fresh murmuring!The twitter and buzz,The soft cry resemblingThat's expired by the grass....Oh, the roll of the pebbles'Neath waters that pass!

Oh, this soul that is groaningIn sleepy complaint!In us is it moaning?In me and in you?Low anthem exhalingWhile soft falls the dew.

VERLAINE'S "FORGOTTEN AIRS"

No. VIII

In the unendingDullness of this land,Uncertain the snowIs gleaming like sand.No kind of brightnessIn copper-hued sky,The moon you might seeNow live and now die.Gray float the oak trees—Cloudlike they seem—Of neighboring forests,The mists in between.Wolves hungry and lean,And famishing crow,What happens to youWhen acid winds blow?In the unendingDullness of this land,Uncertain the snowIs gleaming like sand.

In the unendingDullness of this land,Uncertain the snowIs gleaming like sand.

No kind of brightnessIn copper-hued sky,The moon you might seeNow live and now die.

Gray float the oak trees—Cloudlike they seem—Of neighboring forests,The mists in between.

Wolves hungry and lean,And famishing crow,What happens to youWhen acid winds blow?

In the unendingDullness of this land,Uncertain the snowIs gleaming like sand.

SONG BY MAETERLINCK

When he went away,(Then I heard the door)When he went away,On her lips a smile there lay....Back he came to her,(Then I heard the lamp)Back he came to her,Someone else was there....It was death I met,(And I heard her soul)It was death I met,For her he's waiting yet....Someone came to say,(Child, I am afraid)Someone came to sayThat he would go away....With my lamp alight,(Child, I am afraid)With my lamp alight,Approached I in affright....To one door I came,(Child, I am afraid)To one door I came,A shudder shook the flame....At the second door,(Child, I am afraid)At the second doorForth words of flame did pour....To the third I came,(Child, I am afraid)To the third I came,Then died the little flame....Should he one day returnThen what shall we say?Waiting, tell him, oneAnd dying for him lay....If he asks for you,Say what answer then?Give him my gold ringAnd answer not a thing....Should he question meConcerning the last hour?Say I smiled for fearThat he should shed a tear....Should he question moreWithout knowing me?Like a sister speak;Suffering he may be....Should he question whyEmpty is the hall?Show the gaping door,The lamp alight no more....

When he went away,(Then I heard the door)When he went away,On her lips a smile there lay....

Back he came to her,(Then I heard the lamp)Back he came to her,Someone else was there....

It was death I met,(And I heard her soul)It was death I met,For her he's waiting yet....

Someone came to say,(Child, I am afraid)Someone came to sayThat he would go away....

With my lamp alight,(Child, I am afraid)With my lamp alight,Approached I in affright....

To one door I came,(Child, I am afraid)To one door I came,A shudder shook the flame....

At the second door,(Child, I am afraid)At the second doorForth words of flame did pour....

To the third I came,(Child, I am afraid)To the third I came,Then died the little flame....

Should he one day returnThen what shall we say?Waiting, tell him, oneAnd dying for him lay....

If he asks for you,Say what answer then?Give him my gold ringAnd answer not a thing....

Should he question meConcerning the last hour?Say I smiled for fearThat he should shed a tear....

Should he question moreWithout knowing me?Like a sister speak;Suffering he may be....

Should he question whyEmpty is the hall?Show the gaping door,The lamp alight no more....

FOOTNOTES:[1]From the Russian version, which Count Tolstoï calls a free translation made with some omissions. After diligent search and inquiry I have been unable to find this catechism among Ballou's works.—Tr.[2]I know of but one criticism, or rather essay, for it can hardly be termed criticism, in the strict sense of the word, which treats of the same subject, having my book in view. It is a pamphlet by Troïtzky, called "The Sermon on the Mount" (printed in Kazan). Evidently the author acknowledges the doctrine of Christ in the fullness of its meaning. He declares that the commandment of non-resistance to evil means what it says, and the same with the commandment as to taking an oath. He does not deny, as others have done, the meaning of Christ's teaching, but unfortunately neither does he draw those inevitable conclusions which must result from a conception such as his own of Christ's doctrine. If one is not to resist evil by violence, nor to take an oath, it is but natural to ask: Then what is the duty of a soldier? And what is to be done about taking the oath of allegiance? But to these questions the author makes no reply, and surely a reply should have been given. If he had none to make, it would have been better to have said nothing at all.[3]The Church is the society of the faithful, established by our Lord Jesus Christ, diffused throughout the world, subject to the authority of its lawful pastors and our holy father the Pope.[4]The definition of Homiakov, which had a certain success among the Russians, does not help the case, if one believes with him that the Orthodox is the only true Church. Homiakov asserts that a church is a society of men (without distinction between the ecclesiastics and the laity) united by love, and to whom the truth is revealed ("Let us love one another, that we may unanimously profess," etc.), and that such a church is, in the first place, one that professes the Nicene creed, and, secondly, one which, after the division of the churches, refused to recognize the authority of the Pope and the new dogmas. With such a definition as this, the difficulty of identifying a church which is united by love with a church professing the Nicene creed, and the accuracy of Photius, as Homiakov would have it, is still greater. Hence the statement of Homiakov that this church united by love, and therefore holy, is the same as that of the Greek hierarchy, is still more arbitrary than the assertions of the Catholics and the old Greek Orthodox believers. If we admit the existence of the Church according to the idea of Homiakov, that is, as a society of men united by love and truth, then all that any man can say in regard to it, is that it would be most desirable to be a member of that society,—if such an one exists,—that is, to live in the spirit of love and truth; but there are no outward manifestations by which one could either acknowledge one's self, or recognize others as members of this holy society, or exclude one's self from it, for there is no outward institution to be found which corresponds to that idea.[5]Who are those outside the Church? The infidels, heretics, and schismatics.[6]Thereby may be the true Church known that in it the word of God is taught plainly and clearly, without human additions, and that sacraments are administered faithfully according to the teaching of Christ.[7]The ikon of the Virgin which stands in a chapel in the heart of Moscow, and which is the object of a special veneration to the Russians.—Tr.[8]The unity of this social and pagan life-conception is by no means destroyed by the numerous and varied systems which grow out of it, such as the existence of the family, of the nation, and of the State, and even of that life of humanity conceived according to the theory of the Positivists.These multifarious systems of life are based upon the fundamental idea of the insignificance of the individual, and the assurance that the meaning of life is to be sought and found only in humanity, taken in its broadest sense.—Author.[9]Here, for example, is a characteristic expression of opinion in the American periodical,The Arena,for November, 1890, from an article entitled "New Basis of Church Life." Discussing the significance of the Sermon on the Mount, and especially the doctrine of non-resistance to evil, the author, having no reason for obscuring its meaning as the ecclesiastics do, says:—"Devout common sense must gradually come to look upon Christ as a philanthropic teacher, who, like every enthusiast who ever taught, went to an Utopian extreme in his own philosophy. Every great agitation for the betterment of the world has been led by men who beheld their own mission with such absorbing intensity that they could see little else. It is no reproach to Christ to say that he had the typical reformer's temperament; that his precepts cannot be literally accepted as a complete philosophy of life; and that men are to analyze them reverently, but, at the same time, in the spirit of ordinary truth-seeking criticism," etc."Christ did in fact preach absolute communism and anarchy; but," and so on. Christ would have been glad to have expressed Himself in more fitting terms, but He did not possess our critical faculty in the use of exact definitions, therefore we will set Him right. All He said concerning meekness, sacrifice, poverty, and of taking no thought for the morrow, were but haphazard utterances, because of His ignorance of scientific phraseology.[10]The book was published a year ago, and since then dozens of new weapons and smokeless powder have been invented for the annihilation of mankind.—Author.[11]La Revue des Revues, "La guerre, état de la question, jugé par nos grands hommes contemporains."—Tr.[12]Words taken from Victor Hugo's "Notre Dame," where he says that printing will kill architecture.—Author.[13]That the abuse of authority exists in America, despite the small number of troops, by no means refutes our argument; on the contrary, it serves rather as a testimony in its favor. In America there are fewer troops than in other States, and nowhere do we find less oppression of the downtrodden classes, and nowhere have men come so near to the abolition of governmental abuses, and even of government itself. However, it is in America that, owing to the growing unity among the working-men, voices have been heard, more and more frequently of late, calling for an increase of troops, and this when no foreign invasion threatens the States. The ruling classes are fully aware that an army of 50,000 men is insufficient, and, having lost confidence in Pinkerton's forces, they believe that their salvation can only be secured by the increase of the army.[14]The fact that some nations, like the English and American, have no general conscription system (although one hears already voices in its favor), but a system of recruiting and hiring soldiers, nowise alters the case as regards the slavery of the citizens under the government. In the former system every man must go himself to kill or be killed; in the latter, he must give the proceeds of his labor to employ and drill murderers.[15]Matthew xii. 19, 20.[16]John viii. 32.[17]Petty rural police.—Tr.[18]The details of this case are authentic.[19]Such declarations on the part of Russian authorities, who are noted for their oppression of foreign nationalities,—the Poles, the Germans of the Baltic provinces, and the Jews,—strike one as both amusing and artless. The Russian government, which has oppressed its own subjects for centuries, and which has never protected the Malo-Russians in Poland, the Latishi in the Baltic provinces, nor the Russian peasants, of whom all sorts of people have taken advantage for hundreds of years, suddenly becomes a champion of the oppressed, of the very same people whom it still continues to oppress.[20]Matt. xxiv. 3-28.[21]Matt. xxiv. 36.[22]Matt. xxiv. 43; xxv. 1—13, 14-30.[23]1892.—Tr.[24]1893.[25]Attorney-General.[26]House of the rural communal government.[27]Elders.[28]In Moscow.[29]Chiefs of rural police.[30]1892.[31]See vol. iv. of the works of Jukovsky (a Russian poet).[32]Herzen, vol. v., p. 55.[33]Acts iv. 19.[34]Acts v. 29.[35]Matt. vi. 33.[36]Luke xvii. 20, 21.[37]Tolstoï's remarks on Church religion were re-worded so as to seem to relate only to the Western Church, and his disapproval of luxurious life was made to apply, not, say, to Queen Victoria or Nicholas II., but to the Cæsars or the Pharaohs.—Tr.[38]The Russian peasant is usually a member of a village commune, and has therefore a right to a share in the land belonging to the village. Tolstoï disapproves of the order of society which allows less land for the support of a village full of people than is sometimes owned by a single landed proprietor. The "Censor" will not allow disapproval of this state of things to be expressed, but is prepared to admit that the laws and customs, say, of England—where a yet more extreme form of landed property exists, and the men who actually labor on the land usually possess none of it—deserve criticism.—Tr.[39]Only two, or at most three, senses are generally held worthy to supply matter for artistic treatment, but I think this opinion is only conditionally correct. I will not lay too much stress on the fact that our common speech recognizes many other arts, as, for instance, the art of cookery.[40]And yet it is certainly an æsthetic achievement when the art of cooking succeeds in making of an animal's corpse an object in all respects tasteful. The principle of the Art of Taste (which goes beyond the so-called Art of Cookery) is therefore this: All that is eatable should be treated as the symbol of some Idea, and always in harmony with the Idea to be expressed.[41]If the sense of touch lacks color, it gives us, on the other hand, a notion which the eye alone cannot afford, and one of considerable æsthetic value, namely, that ofsoftness,silkiness,polish. The beauty of velvet is characterized not less by its softness to the touch than by its luster. In the idea we form of a woman's beauty, the softness of her skin enters as an essential element.Each of us, probably, with a little attention, can recall pleasures of taste which have been real æsthetic pleasures.[42]M. Schasler, "Kritische Geschichte der Æsthetik," 1872, vol. i., p. 13.[43]There is no science which, more than æsthetics, has been handed over to the reveries of the metaphysicians. From Plato down to the received doctrines of our day, people have made of art a strange amalgam of quintessential fancies and transcendental mysteries, which find their supreme expression in the conception of an absolute ideal Beauty, immutable and divine prototype of actual things.[44]See on this matter Benard's admirable book, "L'Esthétique d'Aristote," also Walter's "Geschichte der Æsthetik in Altertum."[45]Schasler, p. 361.[46]Schasler, p. 369.[47]Schasler, pp. 388-390.[48]Knight, "Philosophy of the Beautiful," i., pp. 165, 166.[49]Schasler, p. 289. Knight, pp. 168, 169.[50]R. Kralik, "Weltschönheit, Versuch einer allgemeinen Æsthetik," pp. 304-306.[51]Knight, p. 101.[52]Schasler, p. 316.[53]Knight, pp. 102-104.[54]R. Kralik, p. 124.[55]Spaletti, Schasler, p. 328.[56]Schasler, pp. 331-333.[57]Schasler, pp. 525-528.[58]Knight, pp. 61-63.[59]Schasler, pp. 740-743.[60]Schasler, pp, 769-771.[61]Schasler, pp. 786, 787.[62]Kralik, p. 148.[63]Kralik, p. 820.[64]Schasler, pp. 828, 829, 834-841.[65]Schasler, p. 891.[66]Schasler, p. 917.[67]Schasler, pp. 946, 1085, 984, 985, 990.[68]Schasler, pp. 966, 655, 956.[69]Schasler, p. 1017.[70]Schasler, pp. 1065, 1066.[71]Schasler, pp. 1097-1100.[72]Schasler, pp. 1124, 1107.[73]Knight, pp. 81, 82.[74]Knight, p. 83.[75]Schasler, p. 1121.[76]Knight, pp. 85, 86.[77]Knight, p. 88.[78]Knight, p. 88.[79]Knight, p. 112.[80]Knight, p. 116.[81]Knight, pp. 118, 119.[82]Knight, pp. 123, 124.[83]"La Philosophie en France," p. 232.[84]"Du Fondement de l'Induction."[85]"Philosophie de l'Art," vol. i., 1893, p. 47.[86]Knight, pp. 139-141.[87]Knight, p. 134.[88]"L'Esthétique," p. 106.[89]Knight, p. 238.[90]Knight, pp. 239, 240.[91]Knight, pp. 240-243.[92]Knight, pp. 250-252.[93]Knight, pp. 258, 259.[94]Knight, p. 243.[95]"The foundling of Nuremberg," found in the market-place of that town on 26th May, 1828, apparently some sixteen years old. He spoke little, and was almost totally ignorant even of common objects. He subsequently explained that he had been brought up in confinement underground, and visited by only one man, whom he saw but seldom.—Tr.[96]Eastern sects well known in early Church history, who rejected the Church's rendering of Christ's teaching, and were cruelly persecuted.—Tr.[97]Keltchitsky, a Bohemian of the fifteenth century, was the author of a remarkable book, "The Net of Faith," directed against Church and State. It is mentioned in Tolstoï's "The Kingdom of God is Within You."—Tr.[98]Any one examining closely may see that the theory of beauty and that of art are quite separated in Aristotle as they are in Plato and in all their successors.[99]Die Lücke von fünf Jahrhunderten, welche zwischen den Kunst-philosophischen Betrachtungen des Plato und Aristoteles und die des Plotins fällt, kann zwar auffällig erscheinen; dennoch kann man eigentlich nicht sagen, dass in dieser Zwischenzeit überhaupt von ästhetischen Dingen nicht die Rede gewesen; oder dass gar ein völliger Mangel an Zusammenhang zwischen den Kunst-anschauungen des letztgenannten Philosophen und denen der ersteren existire. Freilich wurde die von Aristoteles begründete Wissenschaft in Nichts dadurch gefördert; immerhin aber zeigt sich in jener Zwischenzeit noch ein gewisses Interesse für ästhetische Fragen. Nach Plotin aber, die wenigen, ihm in der Zeit nahestehenden Philosophen, wie Longin, Augustin, u. s. f. kommen, wie wir gesehen, kaum in Betracht und schliessen sich übrigens in ihrer Anschauungsweise an ihn an,—vergehen nicht fünf, sondernfünfzehn Jahrhunderte, in denen von irgend einer wissenschaftlichen Interesse für die Welt des Schönen und der Kunst nichts zu spüren ist.Diese anderthalbtausend Jahre, innerhalb deren der Weltgeist durch die mannigfachsten Kämpfe hindurch zu einer völlig neuen Gestaltung des Lebens sich durcharbeitete, sind für die Aesthetik, hinsichtlich des weiteren Ausbaus dieser Wissenschaft verloren.—Max Schasler.[100]The contrast made is between the classes and the masses; between those who do not and those who do earn their bread by productive manual labor; the middle classes being taken as an offshoot of the upper classes.—Tr.[101]Dueling is still customary among the higher circles in Russia, as in other continental countries.—Tr.[102]It is the weariness of life, contempt for the present epoch, regret for another age seen through the illusion of art, a taste for paradox, a desire to be singular, a sentimental aspiration after simplicity, an infantine adoration of the marvelous, a sickly tendency toward reverie, a shattered condition of nerves, and, above all, the exasperated demand of sensuality.[103]Music, music before all thingsThe eccentric still prefer,Vague in air, and nothing weighty,Soluble. Yet do not err,Choosing words; still do it lightly,Do it too with some contempt;Dearest is the song that's tipsy,Clearness, dimness not exempt.* * * *Music always, now and everBe thy verse the thing that fliesFrom a soul that's gone, escaping,Gone to other loves and skies.Gone to other loves and regions,Following fortunes that allure,Mint and thyme and morning crispness....All the rest's mere literature.[104]I think there should be nothing but allusions. The contemplation of objects, the flying image of reveries evoked by them, are the song. The Parnassiens state the thing completely, and show it, and thereby lack mystery; they deprive the mind of that delicious joy of imagining that it creates. Toname an object is to take three-quarters from the enjoyment of the poem, which consists in the happiness of guessing little by little: to suggest, that is the dream. It is the perfect use of this mystery that constitutes the symbol: little by little, to evoke an object in order to show a state of the soul; or, inversely, to choose an object, and from it to disengage a state of the soul by a series of decipherings..... If a being of mediocre intelligence and insufficient literary preparation chance to open a book made in this way and pretends to enjoy it, there is a misunderstanding—things must be returned to their places.There should always be an enigma in poetry, and the aim of literature—it has no other—is to evoke objects.[105]It were time also to have done with this famous "theory of obscurity," which the new school have practically raised to the height of a dogma.[106]For translation, see Appendix IV.[107]For translation, see Appendix IV.[108]For translation, see Appendix IV.[109]For translation, see Appendix IV.[110]For translation, see Appendix IV.[111]For translation, see Appendix IV.[112]I do not wish to think any more, except about my mother Mary,Seat of wisdom and source of pardon,Also Mother of France,from whom weSteadfastly expect the honor of our country.[113]This sonnet seems too unintelligible for translation.—Tr.[114]For translation, see Appendix IV.[115]The quicker it goes the longer it lasts.[116]All styles are good except the wearisome style.[117]All styles are good except that which is not understood, or which fails to produce its effect.[118]An apparatus exists by means of which a very sensitive arrow, in dependence on the tension of a muscle of the arm, will indicate the physiological action of music on the nerves and muscles.[119]There is in Moscow a magnificent "Cathedral of our Saviour," erected to commemorate the defeat of the French in the war of 1812.—Tr.[120]"That they may be one; even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be in us."[121]In this picture the spectators in the Roman Amphitheater are turning down their thumbs to show that they wish the vanquished gladiator to be killed.—Tr.[122]While offering as examples of art those that seem to me the best, I attach no special importance to my selection; for, besides being insufficiently informed in all branches of art, I belong to the class of people whose taste has, by false training, been perverted. And therefore my old, inured habits may cause me to err, and I may mistake for absolute merit the impression a work produced on me in my youth. My only purpose in mentioning examples of works of this or that class is to make my meaning clearer, and to show how, with my present views, I understand excellence in art in relation to its subject-matter. I must, moreover, mention that I consign my own artistic productions to the category of bad art, excepting the story "God sees the Truth," which seeks a place in the first class, and "The Prisoner of the Caucasus," which belongs to the second.[123]In Russian it is customary to make a distinction between literate and illiterate people,i.e.between those who can and those who cannot read.Literatein this sense does not imply that the man would speak or write correctly.—Tr.[124]The over-man (Uebermensch), in the Nietzschean philosophy, is that superior type of man whom the struggle for existence is to evolve, and who will seek only his own power and pleasure, will know nothing of pity, and will have the right, because he will possess the power, to make ordinary people serve him.—Tr.[125]Stenka Razin was by origin a common Cossack. His brother was hung for a breach of military discipline, and to this event Stenka Razin's hatred of the governing classes has been attributed. He formed a robber band, and subsequently headed a formidable rebellion, declaring himself in favor of freedom for the serfs, religious toleration, and the abolition of taxes. Like the government he opposed, he relied on force, and, though he used it largely in defense of the poor against the rich, he still held to"The good old rule, the simple plan,That they should take who have the power,And they should keep who can."Like Robin Hood, he is favorably treated in popular legends.—Tr.[126]Robert Macaire is a modern type of adroit and audacious rascality. He was the hero of a popular play produced in Paris in 1834.—Tr.[127]The translations in Appendices I., II., and IV., are by Louise Maude. The aim of these renderings has been to keep as close to the originals as the obscurity of meaning allowed. The sense (or absence of sense) has therefore been more considered than the form of the verses.

[1]From the Russian version, which Count Tolstoï calls a free translation made with some omissions. After diligent search and inquiry I have been unable to find this catechism among Ballou's works.—Tr.

[2]I know of but one criticism, or rather essay, for it can hardly be termed criticism, in the strict sense of the word, which treats of the same subject, having my book in view. It is a pamphlet by Troïtzky, called "The Sermon on the Mount" (printed in Kazan). Evidently the author acknowledges the doctrine of Christ in the fullness of its meaning. He declares that the commandment of non-resistance to evil means what it says, and the same with the commandment as to taking an oath. He does not deny, as others have done, the meaning of Christ's teaching, but unfortunately neither does he draw those inevitable conclusions which must result from a conception such as his own of Christ's doctrine. If one is not to resist evil by violence, nor to take an oath, it is but natural to ask: Then what is the duty of a soldier? And what is to be done about taking the oath of allegiance? But to these questions the author makes no reply, and surely a reply should have been given. If he had none to make, it would have been better to have said nothing at all.

[3]The Church is the society of the faithful, established by our Lord Jesus Christ, diffused throughout the world, subject to the authority of its lawful pastors and our holy father the Pope.

[4]The definition of Homiakov, which had a certain success among the Russians, does not help the case, if one believes with him that the Orthodox is the only true Church. Homiakov asserts that a church is a society of men (without distinction between the ecclesiastics and the laity) united by love, and to whom the truth is revealed ("Let us love one another, that we may unanimously profess," etc.), and that such a church is, in the first place, one that professes the Nicene creed, and, secondly, one which, after the division of the churches, refused to recognize the authority of the Pope and the new dogmas. With such a definition as this, the difficulty of identifying a church which is united by love with a church professing the Nicene creed, and the accuracy of Photius, as Homiakov would have it, is still greater. Hence the statement of Homiakov that this church united by love, and therefore holy, is the same as that of the Greek hierarchy, is still more arbitrary than the assertions of the Catholics and the old Greek Orthodox believers. If we admit the existence of the Church according to the idea of Homiakov, that is, as a society of men united by love and truth, then all that any man can say in regard to it, is that it would be most desirable to be a member of that society,—if such an one exists,—that is, to live in the spirit of love and truth; but there are no outward manifestations by which one could either acknowledge one's self, or recognize others as members of this holy society, or exclude one's self from it, for there is no outward institution to be found which corresponds to that idea.

[5]Who are those outside the Church? The infidels, heretics, and schismatics.

[6]Thereby may be the true Church known that in it the word of God is taught plainly and clearly, without human additions, and that sacraments are administered faithfully according to the teaching of Christ.

[7]The ikon of the Virgin which stands in a chapel in the heart of Moscow, and which is the object of a special veneration to the Russians.—Tr.

[8]The unity of this social and pagan life-conception is by no means destroyed by the numerous and varied systems which grow out of it, such as the existence of the family, of the nation, and of the State, and even of that life of humanity conceived according to the theory of the Positivists.These multifarious systems of life are based upon the fundamental idea of the insignificance of the individual, and the assurance that the meaning of life is to be sought and found only in humanity, taken in its broadest sense.—Author.

These multifarious systems of life are based upon the fundamental idea of the insignificance of the individual, and the assurance that the meaning of life is to be sought and found only in humanity, taken in its broadest sense.—Author.

[9]Here, for example, is a characteristic expression of opinion in the American periodical,The Arena,for November, 1890, from an article entitled "New Basis of Church Life." Discussing the significance of the Sermon on the Mount, and especially the doctrine of non-resistance to evil, the author, having no reason for obscuring its meaning as the ecclesiastics do, says:—"Devout common sense must gradually come to look upon Christ as a philanthropic teacher, who, like every enthusiast who ever taught, went to an Utopian extreme in his own philosophy. Every great agitation for the betterment of the world has been led by men who beheld their own mission with such absorbing intensity that they could see little else. It is no reproach to Christ to say that he had the typical reformer's temperament; that his precepts cannot be literally accepted as a complete philosophy of life; and that men are to analyze them reverently, but, at the same time, in the spirit of ordinary truth-seeking criticism," etc."Christ did in fact preach absolute communism and anarchy; but," and so on. Christ would have been glad to have expressed Himself in more fitting terms, but He did not possess our critical faculty in the use of exact definitions, therefore we will set Him right. All He said concerning meekness, sacrifice, poverty, and of taking no thought for the morrow, were but haphazard utterances, because of His ignorance of scientific phraseology.

"Devout common sense must gradually come to look upon Christ as a philanthropic teacher, who, like every enthusiast who ever taught, went to an Utopian extreme in his own philosophy. Every great agitation for the betterment of the world has been led by men who beheld their own mission with such absorbing intensity that they could see little else. It is no reproach to Christ to say that he had the typical reformer's temperament; that his precepts cannot be literally accepted as a complete philosophy of life; and that men are to analyze them reverently, but, at the same time, in the spirit of ordinary truth-seeking criticism," etc.

"Christ did in fact preach absolute communism and anarchy; but," and so on. Christ would have been glad to have expressed Himself in more fitting terms, but He did not possess our critical faculty in the use of exact definitions, therefore we will set Him right. All He said concerning meekness, sacrifice, poverty, and of taking no thought for the morrow, were but haphazard utterances, because of His ignorance of scientific phraseology.

[10]The book was published a year ago, and since then dozens of new weapons and smokeless powder have been invented for the annihilation of mankind.—Author.

[11]La Revue des Revues, "La guerre, état de la question, jugé par nos grands hommes contemporains."—Tr.

[12]Words taken from Victor Hugo's "Notre Dame," where he says that printing will kill architecture.—Author.

[13]That the abuse of authority exists in America, despite the small number of troops, by no means refutes our argument; on the contrary, it serves rather as a testimony in its favor. In America there are fewer troops than in other States, and nowhere do we find less oppression of the downtrodden classes, and nowhere have men come so near to the abolition of governmental abuses, and even of government itself. However, it is in America that, owing to the growing unity among the working-men, voices have been heard, more and more frequently of late, calling for an increase of troops, and this when no foreign invasion threatens the States. The ruling classes are fully aware that an army of 50,000 men is insufficient, and, having lost confidence in Pinkerton's forces, they believe that their salvation can only be secured by the increase of the army.

[14]The fact that some nations, like the English and American, have no general conscription system (although one hears already voices in its favor), but a system of recruiting and hiring soldiers, nowise alters the case as regards the slavery of the citizens under the government. In the former system every man must go himself to kill or be killed; in the latter, he must give the proceeds of his labor to employ and drill murderers.

[15]Matthew xii. 19, 20.

[16]John viii. 32.

[17]Petty rural police.—Tr.

[18]The details of this case are authentic.

[19]Such declarations on the part of Russian authorities, who are noted for their oppression of foreign nationalities,—the Poles, the Germans of the Baltic provinces, and the Jews,—strike one as both amusing and artless. The Russian government, which has oppressed its own subjects for centuries, and which has never protected the Malo-Russians in Poland, the Latishi in the Baltic provinces, nor the Russian peasants, of whom all sorts of people have taken advantage for hundreds of years, suddenly becomes a champion of the oppressed, of the very same people whom it still continues to oppress.

[20]Matt. xxiv. 3-28.

[21]Matt. xxiv. 36.

[22]Matt. xxiv. 43; xxv. 1—13, 14-30.

[23]1892.—Tr.

[24]1893.

[25]Attorney-General.

[26]House of the rural communal government.

[27]Elders.

[28]In Moscow.

[29]Chiefs of rural police.

[30]1892.

[31]See vol. iv. of the works of Jukovsky (a Russian poet).

[32]Herzen, vol. v., p. 55.

[33]Acts iv. 19.

[34]Acts v. 29.

[35]Matt. vi. 33.

[36]Luke xvii. 20, 21.

[37]Tolstoï's remarks on Church religion were re-worded so as to seem to relate only to the Western Church, and his disapproval of luxurious life was made to apply, not, say, to Queen Victoria or Nicholas II., but to the Cæsars or the Pharaohs.—Tr.

[38]The Russian peasant is usually a member of a village commune, and has therefore a right to a share in the land belonging to the village. Tolstoï disapproves of the order of society which allows less land for the support of a village full of people than is sometimes owned by a single landed proprietor. The "Censor" will not allow disapproval of this state of things to be expressed, but is prepared to admit that the laws and customs, say, of England—where a yet more extreme form of landed property exists, and the men who actually labor on the land usually possess none of it—deserve criticism.—Tr.

[39]Only two, or at most three, senses are generally held worthy to supply matter for artistic treatment, but I think this opinion is only conditionally correct. I will not lay too much stress on the fact that our common speech recognizes many other arts, as, for instance, the art of cookery.

[40]And yet it is certainly an æsthetic achievement when the art of cooking succeeds in making of an animal's corpse an object in all respects tasteful. The principle of the Art of Taste (which goes beyond the so-called Art of Cookery) is therefore this: All that is eatable should be treated as the symbol of some Idea, and always in harmony with the Idea to be expressed.

[41]If the sense of touch lacks color, it gives us, on the other hand, a notion which the eye alone cannot afford, and one of considerable æsthetic value, namely, that ofsoftness,silkiness,polish. The beauty of velvet is characterized not less by its softness to the touch than by its luster. In the idea we form of a woman's beauty, the softness of her skin enters as an essential element.Each of us, probably, with a little attention, can recall pleasures of taste which have been real æsthetic pleasures.

Each of us, probably, with a little attention, can recall pleasures of taste which have been real æsthetic pleasures.

[42]M. Schasler, "Kritische Geschichte der Æsthetik," 1872, vol. i., p. 13.

[43]There is no science which, more than æsthetics, has been handed over to the reveries of the metaphysicians. From Plato down to the received doctrines of our day, people have made of art a strange amalgam of quintessential fancies and transcendental mysteries, which find their supreme expression in the conception of an absolute ideal Beauty, immutable and divine prototype of actual things.

[44]See on this matter Benard's admirable book, "L'Esthétique d'Aristote," also Walter's "Geschichte der Æsthetik in Altertum."

[45]Schasler, p. 361.

[46]Schasler, p. 369.

[47]Schasler, pp. 388-390.

[48]Knight, "Philosophy of the Beautiful," i., pp. 165, 166.

[49]Schasler, p. 289. Knight, pp. 168, 169.

[50]R. Kralik, "Weltschönheit, Versuch einer allgemeinen Æsthetik," pp. 304-306.

[51]Knight, p. 101.

[52]Schasler, p. 316.

[53]Knight, pp. 102-104.

[54]R. Kralik, p. 124.

[55]Spaletti, Schasler, p. 328.

[56]Schasler, pp. 331-333.

[57]Schasler, pp. 525-528.

[58]Knight, pp. 61-63.

[59]Schasler, pp. 740-743.

[60]Schasler, pp, 769-771.

[61]Schasler, pp. 786, 787.

[62]Kralik, p. 148.

[63]Kralik, p. 820.

[64]Schasler, pp. 828, 829, 834-841.

[65]Schasler, p. 891.

[66]Schasler, p. 917.

[67]Schasler, pp. 946, 1085, 984, 985, 990.

[68]Schasler, pp. 966, 655, 956.

[69]Schasler, p. 1017.

[70]Schasler, pp. 1065, 1066.

[71]Schasler, pp. 1097-1100.

[72]Schasler, pp. 1124, 1107.

[73]Knight, pp. 81, 82.

[74]Knight, p. 83.

[75]Schasler, p. 1121.

[76]Knight, pp. 85, 86.

[77]Knight, p. 88.

[78]Knight, p. 88.

[79]Knight, p. 112.

[80]Knight, p. 116.

[81]Knight, pp. 118, 119.

[82]Knight, pp. 123, 124.

[83]"La Philosophie en France," p. 232.

[84]"Du Fondement de l'Induction."

[85]"Philosophie de l'Art," vol. i., 1893, p. 47.

[86]Knight, pp. 139-141.

[87]Knight, p. 134.

[88]"L'Esthétique," p. 106.

[89]Knight, p. 238.

[90]Knight, pp. 239, 240.

[91]Knight, pp. 240-243.

[92]Knight, pp. 250-252.

[93]Knight, pp. 258, 259.

[94]Knight, p. 243.

[95]"The foundling of Nuremberg," found in the market-place of that town on 26th May, 1828, apparently some sixteen years old. He spoke little, and was almost totally ignorant even of common objects. He subsequently explained that he had been brought up in confinement underground, and visited by only one man, whom he saw but seldom.—Tr.

[96]Eastern sects well known in early Church history, who rejected the Church's rendering of Christ's teaching, and were cruelly persecuted.—Tr.

[97]Keltchitsky, a Bohemian of the fifteenth century, was the author of a remarkable book, "The Net of Faith," directed against Church and State. It is mentioned in Tolstoï's "The Kingdom of God is Within You."—Tr.

[98]Any one examining closely may see that the theory of beauty and that of art are quite separated in Aristotle as they are in Plato and in all their successors.

[99]Die Lücke von fünf Jahrhunderten, welche zwischen den Kunst-philosophischen Betrachtungen des Plato und Aristoteles und die des Plotins fällt, kann zwar auffällig erscheinen; dennoch kann man eigentlich nicht sagen, dass in dieser Zwischenzeit überhaupt von ästhetischen Dingen nicht die Rede gewesen; oder dass gar ein völliger Mangel an Zusammenhang zwischen den Kunst-anschauungen des letztgenannten Philosophen und denen der ersteren existire. Freilich wurde die von Aristoteles begründete Wissenschaft in Nichts dadurch gefördert; immerhin aber zeigt sich in jener Zwischenzeit noch ein gewisses Interesse für ästhetische Fragen. Nach Plotin aber, die wenigen, ihm in der Zeit nahestehenden Philosophen, wie Longin, Augustin, u. s. f. kommen, wie wir gesehen, kaum in Betracht und schliessen sich übrigens in ihrer Anschauungsweise an ihn an,—vergehen nicht fünf, sondernfünfzehn Jahrhunderte, in denen von irgend einer wissenschaftlichen Interesse für die Welt des Schönen und der Kunst nichts zu spüren ist.Diese anderthalbtausend Jahre, innerhalb deren der Weltgeist durch die mannigfachsten Kämpfe hindurch zu einer völlig neuen Gestaltung des Lebens sich durcharbeitete, sind für die Aesthetik, hinsichtlich des weiteren Ausbaus dieser Wissenschaft verloren.—Max Schasler.

Diese anderthalbtausend Jahre, innerhalb deren der Weltgeist durch die mannigfachsten Kämpfe hindurch zu einer völlig neuen Gestaltung des Lebens sich durcharbeitete, sind für die Aesthetik, hinsichtlich des weiteren Ausbaus dieser Wissenschaft verloren.—Max Schasler.

[100]The contrast made is between the classes and the masses; between those who do not and those who do earn their bread by productive manual labor; the middle classes being taken as an offshoot of the upper classes.—Tr.

[101]Dueling is still customary among the higher circles in Russia, as in other continental countries.—Tr.

[102]It is the weariness of life, contempt for the present epoch, regret for another age seen through the illusion of art, a taste for paradox, a desire to be singular, a sentimental aspiration after simplicity, an infantine adoration of the marvelous, a sickly tendency toward reverie, a shattered condition of nerves, and, above all, the exasperated demand of sensuality.

[103]Music, music before all thingsThe eccentric still prefer,Vague in air, and nothing weighty,Soluble. Yet do not err,Choosing words; still do it lightly,Do it too with some contempt;Dearest is the song that's tipsy,Clearness, dimness not exempt.* * * *Music always, now and everBe thy verse the thing that fliesFrom a soul that's gone, escaping,Gone to other loves and skies.Gone to other loves and regions,Following fortunes that allure,Mint and thyme and morning crispness....All the rest's mere literature.

[103]

Music, music before all thingsThe eccentric still prefer,Vague in air, and nothing weighty,Soluble. Yet do not err,Choosing words; still do it lightly,Do it too with some contempt;Dearest is the song that's tipsy,Clearness, dimness not exempt.* * * *Music always, now and everBe thy verse the thing that fliesFrom a soul that's gone, escaping,Gone to other loves and skies.Gone to other loves and regions,Following fortunes that allure,Mint and thyme and morning crispness....All the rest's mere literature.

Music, music before all thingsThe eccentric still prefer,Vague in air, and nothing weighty,Soluble. Yet do not err,

Choosing words; still do it lightly,Do it too with some contempt;Dearest is the song that's tipsy,Clearness, dimness not exempt.

* * * *

Music always, now and everBe thy verse the thing that fliesFrom a soul that's gone, escaping,Gone to other loves and skies.

Gone to other loves and regions,Following fortunes that allure,Mint and thyme and morning crispness....All the rest's mere literature.

[104]I think there should be nothing but allusions. The contemplation of objects, the flying image of reveries evoked by them, are the song. The Parnassiens state the thing completely, and show it, and thereby lack mystery; they deprive the mind of that delicious joy of imagining that it creates. Toname an object is to take three-quarters from the enjoyment of the poem, which consists in the happiness of guessing little by little: to suggest, that is the dream. It is the perfect use of this mystery that constitutes the symbol: little by little, to evoke an object in order to show a state of the soul; or, inversely, to choose an object, and from it to disengage a state of the soul by a series of decipherings..... If a being of mediocre intelligence and insufficient literary preparation chance to open a book made in this way and pretends to enjoy it, there is a misunderstanding—things must be returned to their places.There should always be an enigma in poetry, and the aim of literature—it has no other—is to evoke objects.

.... If a being of mediocre intelligence and insufficient literary preparation chance to open a book made in this way and pretends to enjoy it, there is a misunderstanding—things must be returned to their places.There should always be an enigma in poetry, and the aim of literature—it has no other—is to evoke objects.

[105]It were time also to have done with this famous "theory of obscurity," which the new school have practically raised to the height of a dogma.

[106]For translation, see Appendix IV.

[107]For translation, see Appendix IV.

[108]For translation, see Appendix IV.

[109]For translation, see Appendix IV.

[110]For translation, see Appendix IV.

[111]For translation, see Appendix IV.

[112]I do not wish to think any more, except about my mother Mary,Seat of wisdom and source of pardon,Also Mother of France,from whom weSteadfastly expect the honor of our country.

[112]

I do not wish to think any more, except about my mother Mary,Seat of wisdom and source of pardon,Also Mother of France,from whom weSteadfastly expect the honor of our country.

[113]This sonnet seems too unintelligible for translation.—Tr.

[114]For translation, see Appendix IV.

[115]The quicker it goes the longer it lasts.

[116]All styles are good except the wearisome style.

[117]All styles are good except that which is not understood, or which fails to produce its effect.

[118]An apparatus exists by means of which a very sensitive arrow, in dependence on the tension of a muscle of the arm, will indicate the physiological action of music on the nerves and muscles.

[119]There is in Moscow a magnificent "Cathedral of our Saviour," erected to commemorate the defeat of the French in the war of 1812.—Tr.

[120]"That they may be one; even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be in us."

[121]In this picture the spectators in the Roman Amphitheater are turning down their thumbs to show that they wish the vanquished gladiator to be killed.—Tr.

[122]While offering as examples of art those that seem to me the best, I attach no special importance to my selection; for, besides being insufficiently informed in all branches of art, I belong to the class of people whose taste has, by false training, been perverted. And therefore my old, inured habits may cause me to err, and I may mistake for absolute merit the impression a work produced on me in my youth. My only purpose in mentioning examples of works of this or that class is to make my meaning clearer, and to show how, with my present views, I understand excellence in art in relation to its subject-matter. I must, moreover, mention that I consign my own artistic productions to the category of bad art, excepting the story "God sees the Truth," which seeks a place in the first class, and "The Prisoner of the Caucasus," which belongs to the second.

[123]In Russian it is customary to make a distinction between literate and illiterate people,i.e.between those who can and those who cannot read.Literatein this sense does not imply that the man would speak or write correctly.—Tr.

[124]The over-man (Uebermensch), in the Nietzschean philosophy, is that superior type of man whom the struggle for existence is to evolve, and who will seek only his own power and pleasure, will know nothing of pity, and will have the right, because he will possess the power, to make ordinary people serve him.—Tr.

[125]Stenka Razin was by origin a common Cossack. His brother was hung for a breach of military discipline, and to this event Stenka Razin's hatred of the governing classes has been attributed. He formed a robber band, and subsequently headed a formidable rebellion, declaring himself in favor of freedom for the serfs, religious toleration, and the abolition of taxes. Like the government he opposed, he relied on force, and, though he used it largely in defense of the poor against the rich, he still held to"The good old rule, the simple plan,That they should take who have the power,And they should keep who can."Like Robin Hood, he is favorably treated in popular legends.—Tr.

"The good old rule, the simple plan,That they should take who have the power,And they should keep who can."

Like Robin Hood, he is favorably treated in popular legends.—Tr.

[126]Robert Macaire is a modern type of adroit and audacious rascality. He was the hero of a popular play produced in Paris in 1834.—Tr.

[127]The translations in Appendices I., II., and IV., are by Louise Maude. The aim of these renderings has been to keep as close to the originals as the obscurity of meaning allowed. The sense (or absence of sense) has therefore been more considered than the form of the verses.

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