Last night two superb Satans and a She-devil not less extraordinary
ascended the mysterious stairway by which Hell gains access to the
frailty of sleeping man, and communes with him in secret.
ascended the mysterious stairway by which Hell gains access to the
frailty of sleeping man, and communes with him in secret.
Baudelaire - Poems and Prose Poems
_"
Here meanwhile was the land, the land with its noises, its passions, its
commodities, its festivals: a land rich and magnificent, full of
promises, that sent to us a mysterious perfume of rose and musk, and
from whence the music of life flowed in an amorous murmuring.
THE DOUBLE CHAMBER.
A chamber that is like a reverie; a chamber truly _spiritual_, where the
stagnant atmosphere is lightly touched with rose and blue.
There the soul bathes itself in indolence made odorous with regret and
desire. There is some sense of the twilight, of things tinged with blue
and rose: a dream of delight during an eclipse. The shape of the
furniture is elongated, low, languishing; one would think it endowed
with the somnambulistic vitality of plants and minerals.
The tapestries speak an inarticulate language, like the flowers, the
skies, the dropping suns.
There are no artistic abominations upon the walls. Compared with the
pure dream, with an impression unanalysed, definite art, positive art,
is a blasphemy. Here all has the sufficing lucidity and the delicious
obscurity of music.
An infinitesimal odour of the most exquisite choice, mingled with a
floating humidity, swims in this atmosphere where the drowsing spirit is
lulled by the sensations one feels in a hothouse.
The abundant muslin flows before the windows and the couch, and spreads
out in snowy cascades. Upon the couch lies the Idol, ruler of my dreams.
But why is she here? --who has brought her? --what magical power has
installed her upon this throne of delight and reverie? What matter--she
is there; and I recognise her.
These indeed are the eyes whose flame pierces the twilight; the subtle
and terrible mirrors that I recognise by their horrifying malice. They
attract, they dominate, they devour the sight of whomsoever is imprudent
enough to look at them. I have often studied them; these Black Stars
that compel curiosity and admiration.
To what benevolent demon, then, do I owe being thus surrounded with
mystery, with silence, with peace, and sweet odours? O beatitude! the
thing we name life, even in its most fortunate amplitude, has nothing in
common with this supreme life with which I am now acquainted, which I
taste minute by minute, second by second.
Not so! Minutes are no more; seconds are no more. Time has vanished, and
Eternity reigns--an Eternity of delight.
A heavy and terrible knocking reverberates upon the door, and, as in a
hellish dream, it seems to me as though I had received a blow from a
mattock.
Then a Spectre enters: it is an usher who comes to torture me in the
name of the Law; an infamous concubine who comes to cry misery and to
add the trivialities of her life to the sorrow of mine; or it may be the
errand-boy of an editor who comes to implore the remainder of a
manuscript.
The chamber of paradise, the Idol, the ruler of dreams, the Sylphide, as
the great Rene said; all this magic has vanished at the brutal knocking
of the Spectre.
Horror; I remember, I remember! Yes, this kennel, this habitation of
eternal weariness, is indeed my own. Here is my senseless furniture,
dusty and tattered; the dirty fireplace without a flame or an ember; the
sad windows where the raindrops have traced runnels in the dust; the
manuscripts, erased or unfinished; the almanac with the sinister days
marked off with a pencil!
And this perfume of another world, whereof I intoxicated myself with a
so perfected sensitiveness; alas, its place is taken by an odour of
stale tobacco smoke, mingled with I know not what nauseating mustiness.
Now one breathes here the rankness of desolation.
In this narrow world, narrow and yet full of disgust, a single familiar
object smiles at me: the phial of laudanum: old and terrible love; like
all loves, alas! fruitful in caresses and treacheries.
Yes, Time has reappeared; Time reigns a monarch now; and with the
hideous Ancient has returned all his demoniacal following of Memories,
Regrets, Tremors, Fears, Dolours, Nightmares, and twittering nerves.
I assure you that the seconds are strongly and solemnly accentuated now;
and each, as it drips from the pendulum, says: "I am Life: intolerable,
implacable Life! "
There is not a second in mortal life whose mission it is to bear good
news: the good news that brings the inexplicable tear to the eye.
Yes, Time reigns; Time has regained his brutal mastery. And he goads me,
as though I were a steer, with his double goad: "Woa, thou fool! Sweat,
then, thou slave! Live on, thou damned! "
AT ONE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.
Alone at last! Nothing is to be heard but the rattle of a few tardy and
tired-out cabs. There will be silence now, if not repose, for several
hours at least. At last the tyranny of the human face has disappeared--I
shall not suffer except alone. At last it is permitted me to refresh
myself in a bath of shadows. But first a double turn of the key in the
lock. It seems to me that this turn of the key will deepen my solitude
and strengthen the barriers which actually separate me from the world.
A horrible life and a horrible city! Let us run over the events of the
day. I have seen several literary men; one of them wished to know if he
could get to Russia by land (he seemed to have an idea that Russia was
an island); I have disputed generously enough with the editor of a
review, who to each objection replied: "We take the part of respectable
people," which implies that every other paper but his own is edited by a
knave; I have saluted some twenty people, fifteen of them unknown to me;
and shaken hands with a like number, without having taken the
precaution of first buying gloves; I have been driven to kill time,
during a shower, with a mountebank, who wanted me to design for her a
costume as Venusta; I have made my bow to a theatre manager, who said:
"You will do well, perhaps, to interview Z; he is the heaviest,
foolishest, and most celebrated of all my authors; with him perhaps you
will be able to come to something. See him, and then we'll see," I have
boasted (why? ) of several villainous deeds I never committed, and
indignantly denied certain shameful things I accomplished with joy,
certain misdeeds of fanfaronade, crimes of human respect; I have refused
an easy favour to a friend and given a written recommendation to a
perfect fool. Heavens! it's well ended.
Discontented with myself and with everything and everybody else, I
should be glad enough to redeem myself and regain my self-respect in the
silence and solitude.
Souls of those whom I have loved, whom I have sung, fortify me; sustain
me; drive away the lies and the corrupting vapours of this world; and
Thou, Lord my God, accord me so much grace as shall produce some
beautiful verse to prove to myself that I am not the last of men, that I
am not inferior to those I despise.
THE CONFITEOR OF THE ARTIST.
How penetrating is the end of an autumn day! Ah, yes, penetrating enough
to be painful even; for there are certain delicious sensations whose
vagueness does not prevent them from being intense; and none more keen
than the perception of the Infinite. He has a great delight who drowns
his gaze in the immensity of sky and sea. Solitude, silence, the
incomparable chastity of the azure--a little sail trembling upon the
horizon, by its very littleness and isolation imitating my irremediable
existence--the melodious monotone of the surge--all these things
thinking through me and I through them (for in the grandeur of the
reverie the Ego is swiftly lost); they think, I say, but musically and
picturesquely, without quibbles, without syllogisms, without deductions.
These thoughts, as they arise in me or spring forth from external
objects, soon become always too intense. The energy working within
pleasure creates an uneasiness, a positive suffering. My nerves are too
tense to give other than clamouring and dolorous vibrations.
And now the profundity of the sky dismays me! its limpidity exasperates
me. The insensibility of the sea, the immutability of the spectacle,
revolt me. Ah, must one eternally suffer, for ever be a fugitive from
Beauty?
Nature, pitiless enchantress, ever-victorious rival, leave me! Tempt my
desires and my pride no more. The contemplation of Beauty is a duel
where the artist screams with terror before being vanquished.
THE THYRSUS.
TO FRANZ LISZT.
What is a thyrsus? According to the moral and poetical sense, it is a
sacerdotal emblem in the hand of the priests or priestesses celebrating
the divinity of whom they are the interpreters and servants. But
physically it is no more than a baton, a pure staff, a hop-pole, a
vine-prop; dry, straight, and hard. Around this baton, in capricious
meanderings, stems and flowers twine and wanton; these, sinuous and
fugitive; those, hanging like bells or inverted cups. And an astonishing
complexity disengages itself from this complexity of tender or brilliant
lines and colours. Would not one suppose that the curved line and the
spiral pay their court to the straight line, and twine about it in a
mute adoration? Would not one say that all these delicate corollae, all
these calices, explosions of odours and colours, execute a mystical
dance around the hieratic staff? And what imprudent mortal will dare to
decide whether the flowers and the vine branches have been made for the
baton, or whether the baton is not but a pretext to set forth the beauty
of the vine branches and the flowers?
The thyrsus is the symbol of your astonishing duality, O powerful and
venerated master, dear bacchanal of a mysterious and impassioned Beauty.
Never a nymph excited by the mysterious Dionysius shook her thyrsus over
the heads of her companions with as much energy as your genius trembles
in the hearts of your brothers. The baton is your will: erect, firm,
unshakeable; the flowers are the wanderings of your fancy around it: the
feminine element encircling the masculine with her illusive dance.
Straight line and arabesque--intention and expression--the rigidity of
the will and the suppleness of the word--a variety of means united for a
single purpose--the all-powerful and indivisible amalgam that is
genius--what analyst will have the detestable courage to divide or to
separate you?
Dear Liszt, across the fogs, beyond the flowers, in towns where the
pianos chant your glory, where the printing-house translates your
wisdom; in whatever place you be, in the splendour of the Eternal City
or among the fogs of the dreamy towns that Cambrinus consoles;
improvising rituals of delight or ineffable pain, or giving to paper
your abstruse meditations; singer of eternal pleasure and pain,
philosopher, poet, and artist, I offer you the salutation of
immortality!
THE MARKSMAN.
As the carriage traversed the wood he bade the driver draw up in the
neighbourhood of a shooting gallery, saying that he would like to have a
few shots to kill time. Is not the slaying of the monster Time the most
ordinary and legitimate occupation of man? --So he gallantly offered his
hand to his dear, adorable, and execrable wife; the mysterious woman to
whom he owed so many pleasures, so many pains, and perhaps also a great
part of his genius.
Several bullets went wide of the proposed mark, one of them flew far
into the heavens, and as the charming creature laughed deliriously,
mocking the clumsiness of her husband, he turned to her brusquely and
said: "Observe that doll yonder, to the right, with its nose in the air,
and with so haughty an appearance. Very well, dear angel, _I will
imagine to myself that it is you! _"
He closed both eyes and pulled the trigger. The doll was neatly
decapitated.
Then, bending towards his dear, adorable, and execrable wife, his
inevitable and pitiless muse, he kissed her respectfully upon the hand,
and added, "Ah, dear angel, how I thank you for my skill! "
THE SHOOTING-RANGE AND THE CEMETERY.
"Cemetery View Inn"--"A queer sign," said our traveller to himself; "but
it raises a thirst! Certainly the keeper of this inn appreciates Horace
and the poet pupils of Epicurus. Perhaps he even apprehends the profound
philosophy of those old Egyptians who had no feast without its skeleton,
or some emblem of life's brevity. "
He entered: drank a glass of beer in presence of the tombs; and slowly
smoked a cigar. Then, his phantasy driving him, he went down into the
cemetery, where the grass was so tall and inviting; so brilliant in the
sunshine.
The light and heat, indeed, were so furiously intense that one had said
the drunken sun wallowed upon a carpet of flowers that had fattened upon
the corruption beneath.
The air was heavy with vivid rumours of life--the life of things
infinitely small--and broken at intervals by the crackling of shots from
a neighbouring shooting-range, that exploded with a sound as of
champagne corks to the burden of a hollow symphony.
And then, beneath a sun which scorched the brain, and in that atmosphere
charged with the ardent perfume of death, he heard a voice whispering
out of the tomb where he sat. And this voice said: "Accursed be your
rifles and targets, you turbulent living ones, who care so little for
the dead in their divine repose! Accursed be your ambitions and
calculations, importunate mortals who study the arts of slaughter near
the sanctuary of Death himself! Did you but know how easy the prize to
win, how facile the end to reach, and how all save Death is naught, not
so greatly would you fatigue yourselves, O ye laborious alive; nor would
you so often vex the slumber of them that long ago reached the End--the
only true end of life detestable! "
THE DESIRE TO PAINT.
Unhappy perhaps is the man, but happy the artist, who is torn with this
desire.
I burn to paint a certain woman who has appeared to me so rarely, and so
swiftly fled away, like some beautiful, regrettable thing the traveller
must leave behind him in the night. It is already long since I saw her.
She is beautiful, and more than beautiful: she is overpowering. The
colour black preponderates in her; all that she inspires is nocturnal
and profound. Her eyes are two caverns where mystery vaguely stirs and
gleams; her glance illuminates like a ray of light; it is an explosion
in the darkness.
I would compare her to a black sun if one could conceive of a dark star
overthrowing light and happiness. But it is the moon that she makes one
dream of most readily; the moon, who has without doubt touched her with
her own influence; not the white moon of the idylls, who resembles a
cold bride, but the sinister and intoxicating moon suspended in the
depths of a stormy night, among the driven clouds; not the discreet
peaceful moon who visits the dreams of pure men, but the moon torn from
the sky, conquered and revolted, that the witches of Thessaly hardly
constrain to dance upon the terrified grass.
Her small brow is the habitation of a tenacious will and the love of
prey. And below this inquiet face, whose mobile nostrils breathe in the
unknown and the impossible, glitters, with an unspeakable grace, the
smile of a large mouth; white, red, and delicious; a mouth that makes
one dream of the miracle of some superb flower unclosing in a volcanic
land.
There are women who inspire one with the desire to woo them and win
them; but she makes one wish to die slowly beneath her steady gaze.
THE GLASS-VENDOR.
These are some natures purely contemplative and antipathetic to action,
who nevertheless, under a mysterious and inexplicable impulse, sometimes
act with a rapidity of which they would have believed themselves
incapable. Such a one is he who, fearing to find some new vexation
awaiting him at his lodgings, prowls about in a cowardly fashion before
the door without daring to enter; such a one is he who keeps a letter
fifteen days without opening it, or only makes up his mind at the end of
six months to undertake a journey that has been a necessity for a year
past. Such beings sometimes feel themselves precipitately thrust towards
action, like an arrow from a bow.
The novelist and the physician, who profess to know all things, yet
cannot explain whence comes this sudden and delirious energy to indolent
and voluptuous souls; nor how, incapable of accomplishing the simplest
and most necessary things, they are at some certain moment of time
possessed by a superabundant hardihood which enables them to execute the
most absurd and even the most dangerous acts.
One of my friends, the most harmless dreamer that ever lived, at one
time set fire to a forest, in order to ascertain, as he said, whether
the flames take hold with the easiness that is commonly affirmed. His
experiment failed ten times running, on the eleventh it succeeded only
too well.
Another lit a cigar by the side of a powder barrel, _in order to see, to
know, to tempt Destiny_, for a jest, to have the pleasure of suspense,
for no reason at all, out of caprice, out of idleness. This is a kind of
energy that springs from weariness and reverie; and those in whom it
manifests so stubbornly are in general, as I have said, the most
indolent and dreamy beings.
Another so timid that he must cast down his eyes before the gaze of any
man, and summon all his poor will before he dare enter a cafe or pass
the pay-box of a theatre, where the ticket-seller seems, in his eyes,
invested with all the majesty of Minos, AEcus, and Rhadamanthus, will at
times throw himself upon the neck of some old man whom he sees in the
street, and embrace him with enthusiasm in sight of an astonished crowd.
Why? Because--because this countenance is irresistibly attractive to
him? Perhaps; but it is more legitimate to suppose that he himself does
not know why.
I have been more than once a victim to these crises and outbreaks which
give us cause to believe that evil-meaning demons slip into us, to make
us the ignorant accomplices of their most absurd desires. One morning I
arose in a sullen mood, very sad, and tired of idleness, and thrust as
it seemed to me to the doing of some great thing, some brilliant
act--and then, alas, I opened the window.
(I beg you to observe that in some people the spirit of mystification is
not the result of labour or combination, but rather of a fortuitous
inspiration which would partake, were it not for the strength of the
feeling, of the mood called hysterical by the physician and satanic by
those who think a little more profoundly than the physician; the mood
which thrusts us unresisting to a multitude of dangerous and
inconvenient acts. )
The first person I noticed in the street was a glass-vendor whose shrill
and discordant cry mounted up to me through the heavy, dull atmosphere
of Paris. It would have been else impossible to account for the sudden
and despotic hatred of this poor man that came upon me.
"Hello, there! " I cried, and bade him ascend. Meanwhile I reflected, not
without gaiety, that as my room was on the sixth landing, and the
stairway very narrow, the man would have some difficulty in ascending,
and in many a place would break off the corners of his fragile
merchandise.
At length he appeared. I examined all his glasses with curiosity, and
then said to him: "What, have you no coloured glasses? Glasses of rose
and crimson and blue, magical glasses, glasses of Paradise? You are
insolent. You dare to walk in mean streets when you have no glasses that
would make one see beauty in life? " And I hurried him briskly to the
staircase, which he staggered down, grumbling.
I went on to the balcony and caught up a little flower-pot, and when the
man appeared in the door-way beneath I let fall my engine of war
perpendicularly upon the edge of his pack, so that it was upset by the
shock and all his poor walking fortune broken to bits. It made a noise
like a palace of crystal shattered by lightning. Mad with my folly, I
cried furiously after him: "The life beautiful! the life beautiful! "
Such nervous pleasantries are not without peril; often enough one pays
dearly for them. But what matters an eternity of damnation to him who
has found in one second an eternity of enjoyment?
THE WIDOWS.
Vauvenargues says that in public gardens there are alleys haunted
principally by thwarted ambition, by unfortunate inventors, by aborted
glories and broken hearts, and by all those tumultuous and contracted
souls in whom the last sighs of the storm mutter yet again, and who thus
betake themselves far from the insolent and joyous eyes of the
well-to-do. These shadowy retreats are the rendezvous of life's
cripples.
To such places above all others do the poet and philosopher direct their
avid conjectures. They find there an unfailing pasturage, for if there
is one place they disdain to visit it is, as I have already hinted, the
place of the joy of the rich. A turmoil in the void has no attractions
for them. On the contrary they feel themselves irresistibly drawn
towards all that is feeble, ruined, sorrowing, and bereft.
An experienced eye is never deceived. In these rigid and dejected
lineaments; in these eyes, wan and hollow, or bright with the last
fading gleams of the combat against fate; in these numerous profound
wrinkles and in the slow and troubled gait, the eye of experience
deciphers unnumbered legends of mistaken devotion, of unrewarded
effort, of hunger and cold humbly and silently supported.
Have you not at times seen widows sitting on the deserted benches? Poor
widows, I mean. Whether in mourning or not they are easily recognised.
Moreover, there is always something wanting in the mourning of the poor;
a lack of harmony which but renders it the more heart-breaking. It is
forced to be niggardly in its show of grief. They are the rich who
exhibit a full complement of sorrow.
Who is the saddest and most saddening of widows: she who leads by the
hand a child who cannot share her reveries, or she who is quite alone? I
do not know. . . . It happened that I once followed for several long hours
an aged and afflicted woman of this kind: rigid and erect, wrapped in a
little worn shawl, she carried in all her being the pride of stoicism.
She was evidently condemned by her absolute loneliness to the habits of
an ancient celibacy; and the masculine characters of her habits added to
their austerity a piquant mysteriousness. In what miserable cafe she
dines I know not, nor in what manner. I followed her to a reading-room,
and for a long time watched her reading the papers, her active eyes,
that once burned with tears, seeking for news of a powerful and personal
interest.
At length, in the afternoon, under a charming autumnal sky, one of those
skies that let fall hosts of memories and regrets, she seated herself
remotely in a garden, to listen, far from the crowd, to one of the
regimental bands whose music gratifies the people of Paris. This was
without doubt the small debauch of the innocent old woman (or the
purified old woman), the well-earned consolation for another of the
burdensome days without a friend, without conversation, without joy,
without a confidant, that God had allowed to fall upon her perhaps for
many years past--three hundred and sixty-five times a year!
Yet one more:
I can never prevent myself from throwing a glance, if not sympathetic at
least full of curiosity, over the crowd of outcasts who press around the
enclosure of a public concert. From the orchestra, across the night,
float songs of fete, of triumph, or of pleasure. The dresses of the
women sweep and shimmer; glances pass; the well-to-do, tired with doing
nothing, saunter about and make indolent pretence of listening to the
music. Here are only the rich, the happy; here is nothing that does not
inspire or exhale the pleasure of being alive, except the aspect of the
mob that presses against the outer barrier yonder, catching gratis, at
the will of the wind, a tatter of music, and watching the glittering
furnace within.
There is a reflection of the joy of the rich deep in the eyes of the
poor that is always interesting. But to-day, beyond this people dressed
in blouses and calico, I saw one whose nobility was in striking contrast
with all the surrounding triviality. She was a tall, majestic woman, and
so imperious in all her air that I cannot remember having seen the like
in the collections of the aristocratic beauties of the past. A perfume
of exalted virtue emanated from all her being. Her face, sad and worn,
was in perfect keeping with the deep mourning in which she was dressed.
She also, like the plebeians she mingled with and did not see, looked
upon the luminous world with a profound eye, and listened with a toss of
her head.
It was a strange vision. "Most certainly," I said to myself, "this
poverty, if poverty it be, ought not to admit of any sordid economy; so
noble a face answers for that. Why then does she remain in surroundings
with which she is so strikingly in contrast? "
But in curiously passing near her I was able to divine the reason. The
tall widow held by the hand a child dressed like herself in black.
Modest as was the price of entry, this price perhaps sufficed to pay
for some of the needs of the little being, or even more, for a
superfluity, a toy.
She will return on foot, dreaming and meditating--and alone, always
alone, for the child is turbulent and selfish, without gentleness or
patience, and cannot become, any more than another animal, a dog or a
cat, the confidant of solitary griefs.
THE TEMPTATIONS; OR, EROS, PLUTUS, AND GLORY.
Last night two superb Satans and a She-devil not less extraordinary
ascended the mysterious stairway by which Hell gains access to the
frailty of sleeping man, and communes with him in secret. These three
postured gloriously before me, as though they had been upon a stage--and
a sulphurous splendour emanated from these beings who so disengaged
themselves from the opaque heart of the night. They bore with them so
proud a presence, and so full of mastery, that at first I took them for
three of the true Gods.
The first Satan, by his face, was a creature of doubtful sex. The
softness of an ancient Bacchus shone in the lines of his body. His
beautiful langourous eyes, of a tenebrous and indefinite colour, were
like violets still laden with the heavy tears of the storm; his
slightly-parted lips were like heated censers, from whence exhaled the
sweet savour of many perfumes; and each time he breathed, exotic
insects drew, as they fluttered, strength from the ardours of his
breath.
Twined about his tunic of purple stuff, in the manner of a cincture, was
an iridescent Serpent with lifted head and eyes like embers turned
sleepily towards him. Phials full of sinister fluids, alternating with
shining knives and instruments of surgery, hung from this living girdle.
He held in his right hand a flagon containing a luminous red fluid, and
inscribed with a legend in these singular words:
"DRINK OF THIS MY BLOOD: A PERFECT RESTORATIVE";
and in his left hand held a violin that without doubt served to sing his
pleasures and pains, and to spread abroad the contagion of his folly
upon the nights of the Sabbath.
From rings upon his delicate ankles trailed a broken chain of gold, and
when the burden of this caused him to bend his eyes towards the earth,
he would contemplate with vanity the nails of his feet, as brilliant and
polished as well-wrought jewels.
He looked at me with eyes inconsolably heartbroken and giving forth an
insidious intoxication, and cried in a chanting voice: "If thou wilt, if
thou wilt, I will make thee an overlord of souls; thou shalt be master
of living matter more perfectly than the sculptor is master of his clay;
thou shalt taste the pleasure, reborn without end, of obliterating
thyself in the self of another, and of luring other souls to lose
themselves in thine. "
But I replied to him: "I thank thee. I only gain from this venture,
then, beings of no more worth than my poor self? Though remembrance
brings me shame indeed, I would forget nothing; and even before I
recognised thee, thou ancient monster, thy mysterious cutlery, thy
equivocal phials, and the chain that imprisons thy feet, were symbols
showing clearly enough the inconvenience of thy friendship. Keep thy
gifts. "
The second Satan had neither the air at once tragical and smiling, the
lovely insinuating ways, nor the delicate and scented beauty of the
first. A gigantic man, with a coarse, eyeless face, his heavy paunch
overhung his hips and was gilded and pictured, like a tattooing, with a
crowd of little moving figures which represented the unnumbered forms of
universal misery. There were little sinew-shrunken men who hung
themselves willingly from nails; there were meagre gnomes, deformed and
under-sized, whose beseeching eyes begged an alms even more eloquently
than their trembling hands; there were old mothers who nursed clinging
abortions at their pendent breasts. And many others, even more
surprising.
This heavy Satan beat with his fist upon his immense belly, from whence
came a loud and resounding metallic clangour, which died away in a
sighing made by many human voices. And he smiled unrestrainedly, showing
his broken teeth--the imbecile smile of a man who has dined too freely.
Then the creature said to me:
"I can give thee that which gets all, which is worth all, which takes
the place of all. " And he tapped his monstrous paunch, whence came a
sonorous echo as the commentary to his obscene speech. I turned away
with disgust and replied: "I need no man's misery to bring me happiness;
nor will I have the sad wealth of all the misfortunes pictured upon thy
skin as upon a tapestry. "
As for the She-devil, I should lie if I denied that at first I found in
her a certain strange charm, which to define I can but compare to the
charm of certain beautiful women past their first youth, who yet seem to
age no more, whose beauty keeps something of the penetrating magic of
ruins. She had an air at once imperious and sordid, and her eyes, though
heavy, held a certain power of fascination. I was struck most by her
voice, wherein I found the remembrance of the most delicious contralti,
as well as a little of the hoarseness of a throat continually laved with
brandy.
"Wouldst thou know my power? " said the charming and paradoxical voice of
the false goddess. "Then listen. " And she put to her mouth a gigantic
trumpet, enribboned, like a mirliton, with the titles of all the
newspapers in the world; and through this trumpet she cried my name so
that it rolled through space with the sound of a hundred thousand
thunders, and came re-echoing back to me from the farthest planet.
"Devil! " cried I, half tempted, "that at least is worth something. " But
it vaguely struck me, upon examining the seductive virago more
attentively, that I had seen her clinking glasses with certain drolls of
my acquaintance, and her blare of brass carried to my ears I know not
what memory of a fanfare prostituted.
So I replied, with all disdain: "Get thee hence! I know better than wed
the light o' love of them that I will not name. "
Truly, I had the right to be proud of a so courageous renunciation. But
unfortunately I awoke, and all my courage left me. "In truth," I said,
"I must have been very deeply asleep indeed to have had such scruples.
Ah, if they would but return while I am awake, I would not be so
delicate. "
So I invoked the three in a loud voice, offering to dishonour myself as
often as necessary to obtain their favours; but I had without doubt too
deeply offended them, for they have never returned.
THE END
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems and Prose Poems of Charles
Baudelaire, by Charles Baudelaire
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS, PROSE POEMS, CHARLES BAUDELAIRE ***
***** This file should be named 36287-0. txt or 36287-0. zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www. gutenberg. org/3/6/2/8/36287/
Produced by Andrea Ball & Marc D'Hooghe at
http://www. freeliterature. org (From images generously made
available by the Internet Archive.
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you! ) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg. net/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1. A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1. E. 8.
1. B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1. C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1. E below.
1. C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1. D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1. E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1. E. 1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. net
1. E. 2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1. E. 1
through 1. E. 7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1. E. 8 or
1. E. 9.
1. E. 3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1. E. 1 through 1. E. 7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1. E. 4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1. E. 5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. E. 1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1. E. 6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www. gutenberg. net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1. E. 1.
1. E. 7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1. E. 8 or 1. E. 9.
1. E. 8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. "
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1. F. 3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1. E. 9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1. F.
1. F. 1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1. F. 2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1. F. 3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1. F. 3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1. F. 3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1. F. 4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1. F. 3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1. F. 5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
Here meanwhile was the land, the land with its noises, its passions, its
commodities, its festivals: a land rich and magnificent, full of
promises, that sent to us a mysterious perfume of rose and musk, and
from whence the music of life flowed in an amorous murmuring.
THE DOUBLE CHAMBER.
A chamber that is like a reverie; a chamber truly _spiritual_, where the
stagnant atmosphere is lightly touched with rose and blue.
There the soul bathes itself in indolence made odorous with regret and
desire. There is some sense of the twilight, of things tinged with blue
and rose: a dream of delight during an eclipse. The shape of the
furniture is elongated, low, languishing; one would think it endowed
with the somnambulistic vitality of plants and minerals.
The tapestries speak an inarticulate language, like the flowers, the
skies, the dropping suns.
There are no artistic abominations upon the walls. Compared with the
pure dream, with an impression unanalysed, definite art, positive art,
is a blasphemy. Here all has the sufficing lucidity and the delicious
obscurity of music.
An infinitesimal odour of the most exquisite choice, mingled with a
floating humidity, swims in this atmosphere where the drowsing spirit is
lulled by the sensations one feels in a hothouse.
The abundant muslin flows before the windows and the couch, and spreads
out in snowy cascades. Upon the couch lies the Idol, ruler of my dreams.
But why is she here? --who has brought her? --what magical power has
installed her upon this throne of delight and reverie? What matter--she
is there; and I recognise her.
These indeed are the eyes whose flame pierces the twilight; the subtle
and terrible mirrors that I recognise by their horrifying malice. They
attract, they dominate, they devour the sight of whomsoever is imprudent
enough to look at them. I have often studied them; these Black Stars
that compel curiosity and admiration.
To what benevolent demon, then, do I owe being thus surrounded with
mystery, with silence, with peace, and sweet odours? O beatitude! the
thing we name life, even in its most fortunate amplitude, has nothing in
common with this supreme life with which I am now acquainted, which I
taste minute by minute, second by second.
Not so! Minutes are no more; seconds are no more. Time has vanished, and
Eternity reigns--an Eternity of delight.
A heavy and terrible knocking reverberates upon the door, and, as in a
hellish dream, it seems to me as though I had received a blow from a
mattock.
Then a Spectre enters: it is an usher who comes to torture me in the
name of the Law; an infamous concubine who comes to cry misery and to
add the trivialities of her life to the sorrow of mine; or it may be the
errand-boy of an editor who comes to implore the remainder of a
manuscript.
The chamber of paradise, the Idol, the ruler of dreams, the Sylphide, as
the great Rene said; all this magic has vanished at the brutal knocking
of the Spectre.
Horror; I remember, I remember! Yes, this kennel, this habitation of
eternal weariness, is indeed my own. Here is my senseless furniture,
dusty and tattered; the dirty fireplace without a flame or an ember; the
sad windows where the raindrops have traced runnels in the dust; the
manuscripts, erased or unfinished; the almanac with the sinister days
marked off with a pencil!
And this perfume of another world, whereof I intoxicated myself with a
so perfected sensitiveness; alas, its place is taken by an odour of
stale tobacco smoke, mingled with I know not what nauseating mustiness.
Now one breathes here the rankness of desolation.
In this narrow world, narrow and yet full of disgust, a single familiar
object smiles at me: the phial of laudanum: old and terrible love; like
all loves, alas! fruitful in caresses and treacheries.
Yes, Time has reappeared; Time reigns a monarch now; and with the
hideous Ancient has returned all his demoniacal following of Memories,
Regrets, Tremors, Fears, Dolours, Nightmares, and twittering nerves.
I assure you that the seconds are strongly and solemnly accentuated now;
and each, as it drips from the pendulum, says: "I am Life: intolerable,
implacable Life! "
There is not a second in mortal life whose mission it is to bear good
news: the good news that brings the inexplicable tear to the eye.
Yes, Time reigns; Time has regained his brutal mastery. And he goads me,
as though I were a steer, with his double goad: "Woa, thou fool! Sweat,
then, thou slave! Live on, thou damned! "
AT ONE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.
Alone at last! Nothing is to be heard but the rattle of a few tardy and
tired-out cabs. There will be silence now, if not repose, for several
hours at least. At last the tyranny of the human face has disappeared--I
shall not suffer except alone. At last it is permitted me to refresh
myself in a bath of shadows. But first a double turn of the key in the
lock. It seems to me that this turn of the key will deepen my solitude
and strengthen the barriers which actually separate me from the world.
A horrible life and a horrible city! Let us run over the events of the
day. I have seen several literary men; one of them wished to know if he
could get to Russia by land (he seemed to have an idea that Russia was
an island); I have disputed generously enough with the editor of a
review, who to each objection replied: "We take the part of respectable
people," which implies that every other paper but his own is edited by a
knave; I have saluted some twenty people, fifteen of them unknown to me;
and shaken hands with a like number, without having taken the
precaution of first buying gloves; I have been driven to kill time,
during a shower, with a mountebank, who wanted me to design for her a
costume as Venusta; I have made my bow to a theatre manager, who said:
"You will do well, perhaps, to interview Z; he is the heaviest,
foolishest, and most celebrated of all my authors; with him perhaps you
will be able to come to something. See him, and then we'll see," I have
boasted (why? ) of several villainous deeds I never committed, and
indignantly denied certain shameful things I accomplished with joy,
certain misdeeds of fanfaronade, crimes of human respect; I have refused
an easy favour to a friend and given a written recommendation to a
perfect fool. Heavens! it's well ended.
Discontented with myself and with everything and everybody else, I
should be glad enough to redeem myself and regain my self-respect in the
silence and solitude.
Souls of those whom I have loved, whom I have sung, fortify me; sustain
me; drive away the lies and the corrupting vapours of this world; and
Thou, Lord my God, accord me so much grace as shall produce some
beautiful verse to prove to myself that I am not the last of men, that I
am not inferior to those I despise.
THE CONFITEOR OF THE ARTIST.
How penetrating is the end of an autumn day! Ah, yes, penetrating enough
to be painful even; for there are certain delicious sensations whose
vagueness does not prevent them from being intense; and none more keen
than the perception of the Infinite. He has a great delight who drowns
his gaze in the immensity of sky and sea. Solitude, silence, the
incomparable chastity of the azure--a little sail trembling upon the
horizon, by its very littleness and isolation imitating my irremediable
existence--the melodious monotone of the surge--all these things
thinking through me and I through them (for in the grandeur of the
reverie the Ego is swiftly lost); they think, I say, but musically and
picturesquely, without quibbles, without syllogisms, without deductions.
These thoughts, as they arise in me or spring forth from external
objects, soon become always too intense. The energy working within
pleasure creates an uneasiness, a positive suffering. My nerves are too
tense to give other than clamouring and dolorous vibrations.
And now the profundity of the sky dismays me! its limpidity exasperates
me. The insensibility of the sea, the immutability of the spectacle,
revolt me. Ah, must one eternally suffer, for ever be a fugitive from
Beauty?
Nature, pitiless enchantress, ever-victorious rival, leave me! Tempt my
desires and my pride no more. The contemplation of Beauty is a duel
where the artist screams with terror before being vanquished.
THE THYRSUS.
TO FRANZ LISZT.
What is a thyrsus? According to the moral and poetical sense, it is a
sacerdotal emblem in the hand of the priests or priestesses celebrating
the divinity of whom they are the interpreters and servants. But
physically it is no more than a baton, a pure staff, a hop-pole, a
vine-prop; dry, straight, and hard. Around this baton, in capricious
meanderings, stems and flowers twine and wanton; these, sinuous and
fugitive; those, hanging like bells or inverted cups. And an astonishing
complexity disengages itself from this complexity of tender or brilliant
lines and colours. Would not one suppose that the curved line and the
spiral pay their court to the straight line, and twine about it in a
mute adoration? Would not one say that all these delicate corollae, all
these calices, explosions of odours and colours, execute a mystical
dance around the hieratic staff? And what imprudent mortal will dare to
decide whether the flowers and the vine branches have been made for the
baton, or whether the baton is not but a pretext to set forth the beauty
of the vine branches and the flowers?
The thyrsus is the symbol of your astonishing duality, O powerful and
venerated master, dear bacchanal of a mysterious and impassioned Beauty.
Never a nymph excited by the mysterious Dionysius shook her thyrsus over
the heads of her companions with as much energy as your genius trembles
in the hearts of your brothers. The baton is your will: erect, firm,
unshakeable; the flowers are the wanderings of your fancy around it: the
feminine element encircling the masculine with her illusive dance.
Straight line and arabesque--intention and expression--the rigidity of
the will and the suppleness of the word--a variety of means united for a
single purpose--the all-powerful and indivisible amalgam that is
genius--what analyst will have the detestable courage to divide or to
separate you?
Dear Liszt, across the fogs, beyond the flowers, in towns where the
pianos chant your glory, where the printing-house translates your
wisdom; in whatever place you be, in the splendour of the Eternal City
or among the fogs of the dreamy towns that Cambrinus consoles;
improvising rituals of delight or ineffable pain, or giving to paper
your abstruse meditations; singer of eternal pleasure and pain,
philosopher, poet, and artist, I offer you the salutation of
immortality!
THE MARKSMAN.
As the carriage traversed the wood he bade the driver draw up in the
neighbourhood of a shooting gallery, saying that he would like to have a
few shots to kill time. Is not the slaying of the monster Time the most
ordinary and legitimate occupation of man? --So he gallantly offered his
hand to his dear, adorable, and execrable wife; the mysterious woman to
whom he owed so many pleasures, so many pains, and perhaps also a great
part of his genius.
Several bullets went wide of the proposed mark, one of them flew far
into the heavens, and as the charming creature laughed deliriously,
mocking the clumsiness of her husband, he turned to her brusquely and
said: "Observe that doll yonder, to the right, with its nose in the air,
and with so haughty an appearance. Very well, dear angel, _I will
imagine to myself that it is you! _"
He closed both eyes and pulled the trigger. The doll was neatly
decapitated.
Then, bending towards his dear, adorable, and execrable wife, his
inevitable and pitiless muse, he kissed her respectfully upon the hand,
and added, "Ah, dear angel, how I thank you for my skill! "
THE SHOOTING-RANGE AND THE CEMETERY.
"Cemetery View Inn"--"A queer sign," said our traveller to himself; "but
it raises a thirst! Certainly the keeper of this inn appreciates Horace
and the poet pupils of Epicurus. Perhaps he even apprehends the profound
philosophy of those old Egyptians who had no feast without its skeleton,
or some emblem of life's brevity. "
He entered: drank a glass of beer in presence of the tombs; and slowly
smoked a cigar. Then, his phantasy driving him, he went down into the
cemetery, where the grass was so tall and inviting; so brilliant in the
sunshine.
The light and heat, indeed, were so furiously intense that one had said
the drunken sun wallowed upon a carpet of flowers that had fattened upon
the corruption beneath.
The air was heavy with vivid rumours of life--the life of things
infinitely small--and broken at intervals by the crackling of shots from
a neighbouring shooting-range, that exploded with a sound as of
champagne corks to the burden of a hollow symphony.
And then, beneath a sun which scorched the brain, and in that atmosphere
charged with the ardent perfume of death, he heard a voice whispering
out of the tomb where he sat. And this voice said: "Accursed be your
rifles and targets, you turbulent living ones, who care so little for
the dead in their divine repose! Accursed be your ambitions and
calculations, importunate mortals who study the arts of slaughter near
the sanctuary of Death himself! Did you but know how easy the prize to
win, how facile the end to reach, and how all save Death is naught, not
so greatly would you fatigue yourselves, O ye laborious alive; nor would
you so often vex the slumber of them that long ago reached the End--the
only true end of life detestable! "
THE DESIRE TO PAINT.
Unhappy perhaps is the man, but happy the artist, who is torn with this
desire.
I burn to paint a certain woman who has appeared to me so rarely, and so
swiftly fled away, like some beautiful, regrettable thing the traveller
must leave behind him in the night. It is already long since I saw her.
She is beautiful, and more than beautiful: she is overpowering. The
colour black preponderates in her; all that she inspires is nocturnal
and profound. Her eyes are two caverns where mystery vaguely stirs and
gleams; her glance illuminates like a ray of light; it is an explosion
in the darkness.
I would compare her to a black sun if one could conceive of a dark star
overthrowing light and happiness. But it is the moon that she makes one
dream of most readily; the moon, who has without doubt touched her with
her own influence; not the white moon of the idylls, who resembles a
cold bride, but the sinister and intoxicating moon suspended in the
depths of a stormy night, among the driven clouds; not the discreet
peaceful moon who visits the dreams of pure men, but the moon torn from
the sky, conquered and revolted, that the witches of Thessaly hardly
constrain to dance upon the terrified grass.
Her small brow is the habitation of a tenacious will and the love of
prey. And below this inquiet face, whose mobile nostrils breathe in the
unknown and the impossible, glitters, with an unspeakable grace, the
smile of a large mouth; white, red, and delicious; a mouth that makes
one dream of the miracle of some superb flower unclosing in a volcanic
land.
There are women who inspire one with the desire to woo them and win
them; but she makes one wish to die slowly beneath her steady gaze.
THE GLASS-VENDOR.
These are some natures purely contemplative and antipathetic to action,
who nevertheless, under a mysterious and inexplicable impulse, sometimes
act with a rapidity of which they would have believed themselves
incapable. Such a one is he who, fearing to find some new vexation
awaiting him at his lodgings, prowls about in a cowardly fashion before
the door without daring to enter; such a one is he who keeps a letter
fifteen days without opening it, or only makes up his mind at the end of
six months to undertake a journey that has been a necessity for a year
past. Such beings sometimes feel themselves precipitately thrust towards
action, like an arrow from a bow.
The novelist and the physician, who profess to know all things, yet
cannot explain whence comes this sudden and delirious energy to indolent
and voluptuous souls; nor how, incapable of accomplishing the simplest
and most necessary things, they are at some certain moment of time
possessed by a superabundant hardihood which enables them to execute the
most absurd and even the most dangerous acts.
One of my friends, the most harmless dreamer that ever lived, at one
time set fire to a forest, in order to ascertain, as he said, whether
the flames take hold with the easiness that is commonly affirmed. His
experiment failed ten times running, on the eleventh it succeeded only
too well.
Another lit a cigar by the side of a powder barrel, _in order to see, to
know, to tempt Destiny_, for a jest, to have the pleasure of suspense,
for no reason at all, out of caprice, out of idleness. This is a kind of
energy that springs from weariness and reverie; and those in whom it
manifests so stubbornly are in general, as I have said, the most
indolent and dreamy beings.
Another so timid that he must cast down his eyes before the gaze of any
man, and summon all his poor will before he dare enter a cafe or pass
the pay-box of a theatre, where the ticket-seller seems, in his eyes,
invested with all the majesty of Minos, AEcus, and Rhadamanthus, will at
times throw himself upon the neck of some old man whom he sees in the
street, and embrace him with enthusiasm in sight of an astonished crowd.
Why? Because--because this countenance is irresistibly attractive to
him? Perhaps; but it is more legitimate to suppose that he himself does
not know why.
I have been more than once a victim to these crises and outbreaks which
give us cause to believe that evil-meaning demons slip into us, to make
us the ignorant accomplices of their most absurd desires. One morning I
arose in a sullen mood, very sad, and tired of idleness, and thrust as
it seemed to me to the doing of some great thing, some brilliant
act--and then, alas, I opened the window.
(I beg you to observe that in some people the spirit of mystification is
not the result of labour or combination, but rather of a fortuitous
inspiration which would partake, were it not for the strength of the
feeling, of the mood called hysterical by the physician and satanic by
those who think a little more profoundly than the physician; the mood
which thrusts us unresisting to a multitude of dangerous and
inconvenient acts. )
The first person I noticed in the street was a glass-vendor whose shrill
and discordant cry mounted up to me through the heavy, dull atmosphere
of Paris. It would have been else impossible to account for the sudden
and despotic hatred of this poor man that came upon me.
"Hello, there! " I cried, and bade him ascend. Meanwhile I reflected, not
without gaiety, that as my room was on the sixth landing, and the
stairway very narrow, the man would have some difficulty in ascending,
and in many a place would break off the corners of his fragile
merchandise.
At length he appeared. I examined all his glasses with curiosity, and
then said to him: "What, have you no coloured glasses? Glasses of rose
and crimson and blue, magical glasses, glasses of Paradise? You are
insolent. You dare to walk in mean streets when you have no glasses that
would make one see beauty in life? " And I hurried him briskly to the
staircase, which he staggered down, grumbling.
I went on to the balcony and caught up a little flower-pot, and when the
man appeared in the door-way beneath I let fall my engine of war
perpendicularly upon the edge of his pack, so that it was upset by the
shock and all his poor walking fortune broken to bits. It made a noise
like a palace of crystal shattered by lightning. Mad with my folly, I
cried furiously after him: "The life beautiful! the life beautiful! "
Such nervous pleasantries are not without peril; often enough one pays
dearly for them. But what matters an eternity of damnation to him who
has found in one second an eternity of enjoyment?
THE WIDOWS.
Vauvenargues says that in public gardens there are alleys haunted
principally by thwarted ambition, by unfortunate inventors, by aborted
glories and broken hearts, and by all those tumultuous and contracted
souls in whom the last sighs of the storm mutter yet again, and who thus
betake themselves far from the insolent and joyous eyes of the
well-to-do. These shadowy retreats are the rendezvous of life's
cripples.
To such places above all others do the poet and philosopher direct their
avid conjectures. They find there an unfailing pasturage, for if there
is one place they disdain to visit it is, as I have already hinted, the
place of the joy of the rich. A turmoil in the void has no attractions
for them. On the contrary they feel themselves irresistibly drawn
towards all that is feeble, ruined, sorrowing, and bereft.
An experienced eye is never deceived. In these rigid and dejected
lineaments; in these eyes, wan and hollow, or bright with the last
fading gleams of the combat against fate; in these numerous profound
wrinkles and in the slow and troubled gait, the eye of experience
deciphers unnumbered legends of mistaken devotion, of unrewarded
effort, of hunger and cold humbly and silently supported.
Have you not at times seen widows sitting on the deserted benches? Poor
widows, I mean. Whether in mourning or not they are easily recognised.
Moreover, there is always something wanting in the mourning of the poor;
a lack of harmony which but renders it the more heart-breaking. It is
forced to be niggardly in its show of grief. They are the rich who
exhibit a full complement of sorrow.
Who is the saddest and most saddening of widows: she who leads by the
hand a child who cannot share her reveries, or she who is quite alone? I
do not know. . . . It happened that I once followed for several long hours
an aged and afflicted woman of this kind: rigid and erect, wrapped in a
little worn shawl, she carried in all her being the pride of stoicism.
She was evidently condemned by her absolute loneliness to the habits of
an ancient celibacy; and the masculine characters of her habits added to
their austerity a piquant mysteriousness. In what miserable cafe she
dines I know not, nor in what manner. I followed her to a reading-room,
and for a long time watched her reading the papers, her active eyes,
that once burned with tears, seeking for news of a powerful and personal
interest.
At length, in the afternoon, under a charming autumnal sky, one of those
skies that let fall hosts of memories and regrets, she seated herself
remotely in a garden, to listen, far from the crowd, to one of the
regimental bands whose music gratifies the people of Paris. This was
without doubt the small debauch of the innocent old woman (or the
purified old woman), the well-earned consolation for another of the
burdensome days without a friend, without conversation, without joy,
without a confidant, that God had allowed to fall upon her perhaps for
many years past--three hundred and sixty-five times a year!
Yet one more:
I can never prevent myself from throwing a glance, if not sympathetic at
least full of curiosity, over the crowd of outcasts who press around the
enclosure of a public concert. From the orchestra, across the night,
float songs of fete, of triumph, or of pleasure. The dresses of the
women sweep and shimmer; glances pass; the well-to-do, tired with doing
nothing, saunter about and make indolent pretence of listening to the
music. Here are only the rich, the happy; here is nothing that does not
inspire or exhale the pleasure of being alive, except the aspect of the
mob that presses against the outer barrier yonder, catching gratis, at
the will of the wind, a tatter of music, and watching the glittering
furnace within.
There is a reflection of the joy of the rich deep in the eyes of the
poor that is always interesting. But to-day, beyond this people dressed
in blouses and calico, I saw one whose nobility was in striking contrast
with all the surrounding triviality. She was a tall, majestic woman, and
so imperious in all her air that I cannot remember having seen the like
in the collections of the aristocratic beauties of the past. A perfume
of exalted virtue emanated from all her being. Her face, sad and worn,
was in perfect keeping with the deep mourning in which she was dressed.
She also, like the plebeians she mingled with and did not see, looked
upon the luminous world with a profound eye, and listened with a toss of
her head.
It was a strange vision. "Most certainly," I said to myself, "this
poverty, if poverty it be, ought not to admit of any sordid economy; so
noble a face answers for that. Why then does she remain in surroundings
with which she is so strikingly in contrast? "
But in curiously passing near her I was able to divine the reason. The
tall widow held by the hand a child dressed like herself in black.
Modest as was the price of entry, this price perhaps sufficed to pay
for some of the needs of the little being, or even more, for a
superfluity, a toy.
She will return on foot, dreaming and meditating--and alone, always
alone, for the child is turbulent and selfish, without gentleness or
patience, and cannot become, any more than another animal, a dog or a
cat, the confidant of solitary griefs.
THE TEMPTATIONS; OR, EROS, PLUTUS, AND GLORY.
Last night two superb Satans and a She-devil not less extraordinary
ascended the mysterious stairway by which Hell gains access to the
frailty of sleeping man, and communes with him in secret. These three
postured gloriously before me, as though they had been upon a stage--and
a sulphurous splendour emanated from these beings who so disengaged
themselves from the opaque heart of the night. They bore with them so
proud a presence, and so full of mastery, that at first I took them for
three of the true Gods.
The first Satan, by his face, was a creature of doubtful sex. The
softness of an ancient Bacchus shone in the lines of his body. His
beautiful langourous eyes, of a tenebrous and indefinite colour, were
like violets still laden with the heavy tears of the storm; his
slightly-parted lips were like heated censers, from whence exhaled the
sweet savour of many perfumes; and each time he breathed, exotic
insects drew, as they fluttered, strength from the ardours of his
breath.
Twined about his tunic of purple stuff, in the manner of a cincture, was
an iridescent Serpent with lifted head and eyes like embers turned
sleepily towards him. Phials full of sinister fluids, alternating with
shining knives and instruments of surgery, hung from this living girdle.
He held in his right hand a flagon containing a luminous red fluid, and
inscribed with a legend in these singular words:
"DRINK OF THIS MY BLOOD: A PERFECT RESTORATIVE";
and in his left hand held a violin that without doubt served to sing his
pleasures and pains, and to spread abroad the contagion of his folly
upon the nights of the Sabbath.
From rings upon his delicate ankles trailed a broken chain of gold, and
when the burden of this caused him to bend his eyes towards the earth,
he would contemplate with vanity the nails of his feet, as brilliant and
polished as well-wrought jewels.
He looked at me with eyes inconsolably heartbroken and giving forth an
insidious intoxication, and cried in a chanting voice: "If thou wilt, if
thou wilt, I will make thee an overlord of souls; thou shalt be master
of living matter more perfectly than the sculptor is master of his clay;
thou shalt taste the pleasure, reborn without end, of obliterating
thyself in the self of another, and of luring other souls to lose
themselves in thine. "
But I replied to him: "I thank thee. I only gain from this venture,
then, beings of no more worth than my poor self? Though remembrance
brings me shame indeed, I would forget nothing; and even before I
recognised thee, thou ancient monster, thy mysterious cutlery, thy
equivocal phials, and the chain that imprisons thy feet, were symbols
showing clearly enough the inconvenience of thy friendship. Keep thy
gifts. "
The second Satan had neither the air at once tragical and smiling, the
lovely insinuating ways, nor the delicate and scented beauty of the
first. A gigantic man, with a coarse, eyeless face, his heavy paunch
overhung his hips and was gilded and pictured, like a tattooing, with a
crowd of little moving figures which represented the unnumbered forms of
universal misery. There were little sinew-shrunken men who hung
themselves willingly from nails; there were meagre gnomes, deformed and
under-sized, whose beseeching eyes begged an alms even more eloquently
than their trembling hands; there were old mothers who nursed clinging
abortions at their pendent breasts. And many others, even more
surprising.
This heavy Satan beat with his fist upon his immense belly, from whence
came a loud and resounding metallic clangour, which died away in a
sighing made by many human voices. And he smiled unrestrainedly, showing
his broken teeth--the imbecile smile of a man who has dined too freely.
Then the creature said to me:
"I can give thee that which gets all, which is worth all, which takes
the place of all. " And he tapped his monstrous paunch, whence came a
sonorous echo as the commentary to his obscene speech. I turned away
with disgust and replied: "I need no man's misery to bring me happiness;
nor will I have the sad wealth of all the misfortunes pictured upon thy
skin as upon a tapestry. "
As for the She-devil, I should lie if I denied that at first I found in
her a certain strange charm, which to define I can but compare to the
charm of certain beautiful women past their first youth, who yet seem to
age no more, whose beauty keeps something of the penetrating magic of
ruins. She had an air at once imperious and sordid, and her eyes, though
heavy, held a certain power of fascination. I was struck most by her
voice, wherein I found the remembrance of the most delicious contralti,
as well as a little of the hoarseness of a throat continually laved with
brandy.
"Wouldst thou know my power? " said the charming and paradoxical voice of
the false goddess. "Then listen. " And she put to her mouth a gigantic
trumpet, enribboned, like a mirliton, with the titles of all the
newspapers in the world; and through this trumpet she cried my name so
that it rolled through space with the sound of a hundred thousand
thunders, and came re-echoing back to me from the farthest planet.
"Devil! " cried I, half tempted, "that at least is worth something. " But
it vaguely struck me, upon examining the seductive virago more
attentively, that I had seen her clinking glasses with certain drolls of
my acquaintance, and her blare of brass carried to my ears I know not
what memory of a fanfare prostituted.
So I replied, with all disdain: "Get thee hence! I know better than wed
the light o' love of them that I will not name. "
Truly, I had the right to be proud of a so courageous renunciation. But
unfortunately I awoke, and all my courage left me. "In truth," I said,
"I must have been very deeply asleep indeed to have had such scruples.
Ah, if they would but return while I am awake, I would not be so
delicate. "
So I invoked the three in a loud voice, offering to dishonour myself as
often as necessary to obtain their favours; but I had without doubt too
deeply offended them, for they have never returned.
THE END
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems and Prose Poems of Charles
Baudelaire, by Charles Baudelaire
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS, PROSE POEMS, CHARLES BAUDELAIRE ***
***** This file should be named 36287-0. txt or 36287-0. zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www. gutenberg. org/3/6/2/8/36287/
Produced by Andrea Ball & Marc D'Hooghe at
http://www. freeliterature. org (From images generously made
available by the Internet Archive.
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you! ) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg. net/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1. A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1. E. 8.
1. B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1. C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1. E below.
1. C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1. D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1. E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1. E. 1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. net
1. E. 2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1. E. 1
through 1. E. 7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1. E. 8 or
1. E. 9.
1. E. 3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1. E. 1 through 1. E. 7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1. E. 4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1. E. 5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. E. 1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1. E. 6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www. gutenberg. net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1. E. 1.
1. E. 7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1. E. 8 or 1. E. 9.
1. E. 8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. "
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1. F. 3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1. E. 9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1. F.
1. F. 1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1. F. 2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1. F. 3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1. F. 3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1. F. 3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1. F. 4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1. F. 3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1. F. 5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
