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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #60771 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60771)
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-Project Gutenberg's The Poet Assassinated, by Guillaume Apollinaire
-
-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.org/license
-
-
-Title: The Poet Assassinated
-
-Author: Guillaume Apollinaire
-
-Translator: Matthew Josephson
-
-Release Date: November 23, 2019 [EBook #60771]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POET ASSASSINATED ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images
-generously made available by Hathi Trust.)
-
-
-
-
-
-THE POET ASSASSINATED
-
-BY
-
-GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE
-
-TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE
-
-AND NOTES BY
-
-MATTHEW JOSEPHSON
-
-NEW YORK
-
-THE BROOM PUBLISHING CO.
-
-1923
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration 01]
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE
-I. RENOWN
-II. PROCREATION
-III. GESTATION
-IV. NOBILITY
-V. PAPACY
-VI. GAMBRINUS
-VII. CONFINEMENT
-VIII. MAMMON
-IX. PEDAGOGY
-X. POETRY
-XI. DRAMATURGY
-XII. LOVE
-XIII. MODES
-XIV. ENCOUNTERS
-XV. VOYAGE
-XVI. PERSECUTION
-XVII. ASSASSINATION
-XVIII. APOTHEOSIS
-
-
-
-
-
-BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE
-
-
-There are men who cannot bring themselves to conform with the rest of
-human society, who cannot conceive of a secure and honorable career even
-at the hands of a tolerant age. They flee, they are eternally escaping
-from the fold by some particularly outrageous or suicidal action.
-Rimbaud having mastered the art of poetry in his twenties, deserted
-literature to lead caravans through the African desert. Apollinaire at
-almost as early an age had also mastered the traditional forms of his
-art, but with Rimbaud's example before him could not become "an
-explorer, a trapper, a robber, a hunter, a miner."
-
-Possessed of great energy, curiosity, and disrespect, he was from the
-start thrown upon the side of those who flout authority, court disorder
-and embrace the glitter and profusion of an intensely mundane existence.
-
-To regard the spectacle of modern life and to sense the cleavage with
-the past and with the art or humanities of the previous day, is to be
-"modern". For many the word is hateful; and yet Apollinaire set out
-deliberately to be modern: to revalue the contributions of the past in
-terms of the phenomenal changes which the twentieth century and the
-Great War had brought in.
-
-The barbarous new age he courted, adopting much of its method, the
-character of its institutions and its cruel philosophy. Perhaps he has
-interpreted his age best in his own personality, that is to say his
-life, a large and daring conception in itself.
-
-"Vain to be astonished at his continual feast-making," says his friend
-the painter, Rouveyre, "at the rash exploits he undertook, at the crown
-of thorns he inflicted upon himself... He was a prodigious creator and
-all of his literary and social games, were of the most brilliant and
-lavish character, far more so than their objects. Like God, who could
-make man out of nothing, Apollinaire made many, with the same poverty of
-material." (_Souvenirs de mon Commerce_--A. Rouveyre, Paris, 1919,
-Mercure de France.)
-
-
-Apollinaire was born in Monte Carlo in 1880. It is still a delicate
-matter to approach the facts of his life, to some extent, because of his
-confusing boasts and pretensions. We do know that his mother was Mme de
-Kostrovitzka, a lady of Polish descent who lived in France, and that
-Apollinaire (i. e., Wilhelm de Kostrovitzki) was baptized in Rome on
-September 29, 1880.
-
-He received an extensive and preciose education. He lived with his
-mother in a chateau outside of Paris, a huge mansion that had a billiard
-room, music parlors, salons, and animals of all kinds: monkeys, dogs,
-snakes, parrots, canaries. Apollinaire travelled much when he was quite
-young, chiefly in Germany, Italy and Eastern Europe; he lived and
-studied in the Rhineland. Then he came back to Paris, with "all the
-poems he had been collecting in a cigar-box."
-
-A literary career in Paris, is perfectly conventional by now. You run
-after the editors of newspapers, and finally you are allowed to
-contribute "feuilletons" to them. Then the magazines, the publishers,
-and you have "arrived." Apollinaire became a journalist and lived for a
-time by the veriest pot-boiling, some of which included translations of
-Aretino, an edition of the Marquis de Sade, introductions to
-pornographical classics, and even a great bibliographical work, called,
-"The Inferno of the National Library." But he soon became notorious in
-Paris. He gathered a motley horde of writers, painters and _types_ (i.
-e., idiots, or freaks), and paraded from the right bank to the left,
-from the Montmartre to Montparnasse. His associates are now the most
-distinguished names of France, Henri-Matisse, Picasso, Dérain, Braque,
-Rousseau (the old man whom he "discovered" near the fortifications of
-Paris), and André Salmon, Marie Laurencin, Max Jacob, Pierre Reverdy,
-"baron" Mollet, his secretary.
-
-He was intensely conscious of the time-spirit. An original and rugged
-intellect, he disquieted those who were repelled by his lavish and
-heedless manner. For him the French literature of the Symbolist era,
-which de Gourmont still presided over, was dead, and he became, during
-that whole period from 1905 to the end of the Great War, the only living
-force in France. He predicted the sterile close of the literature of de
-Regnier and Paul Fort, "Prince of Poets" (!), heralding an age of
-boundless expansion and experiment, with new zones of experience, new
-forms, and a yet more complex and rich civilization.
-
-Such ideas were in the air of Europe: there was Marinetti, in Italy:
-Cézanne had nearly brought his stupendous work to a close; and a group
-of painters, Picasso, Duchamps, Picabia, Braque, Dérain (the Cubists),
-launched their work upon a frightened world. The abstract investigations
-of the Cubists appealed to him powerfully. Apollinaire became their
-ringleader. His book, "The Cubist Painters," is an authoritative apology
-for this movement. But not content with this, he conceived little
-movements of his own, invented names for them, wrote up programs, and
-precipitated bad painters into careers. It was not all buffoonery. He
-may have placed silly, vacuous individuals at the head of the reviews he
-organized, "_Les Soirées de Paris_", _Nord Sud_ (named after the new
-subway); but some of the best modern writing of the time, by Max Jacob,
-Pierre Reverdy, André Salmon, Paul Valéry, Apollinaire himself, and
-some extremely youthful poets who are now Dadaists, were included in
-them. His great charm in conversation, his uproarious wit, his complete
-shamelessness, made him idol of all who were drawn to him.
-
-_Alcools_, his first collection of poems, appeared in 1913. It was the
-escape of a personality from the "eternal recurrence." The Symbolists
-had sought a kind of exalted, objective state; this false mysticism was
-accompanied by an attitude of fatigue, and preciose resignation. Even
-the language, in their hands had become crystallized, or static.
-Apollinaire's attitude was the complete reverse. A wonderfully happy
-man, his verse was lustier and sturdier. He had learned much from the
-reawakened interest in the "primitive" Italian painters. There was no
-false shading in his work. Every line was as direct as in a child's
-drawing. No one could use clichés or write of the most common diurnal
-experiences as freshly as he. His verse had also a certain heroic
-character, an air of prophecy.
-
-It has always been the good fortune of France that Paris draws gifted
-strangers from other lands, who bring real gold to her. Apollinaire, a
-weird mixture of what Slavic and Latin strains, laid rough hands on the
-language. His aberrations are superb. He could never resist the
-foreigner's impulse toward _jeux des mots_; and none are quicker than
-the French themselves to accept and enjoy the new puns and
-double-entendres. For the French have gone farther, their language has
-been more pawed over and revivified through foreign usage than ours.
-Apollinaire's exoticisms were not bizarre; they had the air of being
-conceived in conversation.
-
-In the summer of 1914, Apollinaire was in Deauville, surrounded by a
-cosmopolitan horde of Poles, Germans, Hungarians, Czechs and Russians
-when the Great War began. He embraced the superb irony of these events
-with the utmost ardour; his attitude was precisely that which Pascal
-epitomizes:
-
-
-"_Why do you wish to kill brother?"
-"Do I not live on the other side of the river?_"
-
-
-He went into the artillery, and was stationed at Nîmes. He became
-Second Lieutenant Guillaume Apollinaire. There were dull months upon
-months in the barracks. There was also active fighting. He was three
-times wounded in the head, and trepanned. In the Fall of 1915, he lay in
-a hospital in Paris, recovering from a successful operation. It was at
-this time that he assembled the fragments of a novel over which he had
-been working for a period of years, _The Poet Assassinated._
-
-The poet, Croniamantal, is one of the few frankly epic figures of modern
-literature. Apollinaire had never really outlived the poet's age of
-twenty-five, and the preposterous life of his hero is drawn against the
-artistic and social foibles of his age. By no means mere satire in the
-18th century sense. Apollinaire grows positively hilarious and
-intoxicated over his characters so that at times he is beside himself
-with sheer fun. Results: humor of extraordinary eloquence and sonority,
-and a form that is complete unrepresentative, with perpetual digressions
-and asides.
-
-There have been so many tired men in France who wrote like flagellants.
-Flaubert made his waking hours a nightmare; Gautier was much too
-corseted; to Stendhal writing was a torturesome but resistless destiny;
-Villiers was a devout artisan; Mallarmé goaded himself into obscuracy
-and speechlessness.
-
-We must go back to Stendhal to find such extreme opposition to
-naturalism. It is enemy of all that was Ibsen. Distortion or
-under-emphasis are employed to fantastic ends; when a puppet is
-uninteresting or wrung dry he is dismissed or killed. Here is the
-destructive side of it: Apollinaire runs all the risks, obeys no rules,
-and writes for fun.
-
-In the following year he was dismissed from the army and pronounced
-unfit for anything but censorship service.
-
-Discharged from the hospital, he bought himself the most immaculate
-officer's uniform, somewhat constricting for his already corpulent form
-and his double chin, and in a victoria rode up to the editorial offices
-of the _Mercure de France._ His manner was perfectly that of "a
-Marseillaise tenor in an opera comique." His friends were in an uproar
-over him. The art life of Paris, flared up again, under the guns. He
-broke loose again upon his maddest tours de forces. A great welcoming
-ball was given him, an orgy attended by a howling, cursing, fighting
-throng, in which men and women tore about like Chaplin in the films.
-There had never been such an outlandish and heterogeneous bazaar.
-Apollinaire was ravished at being the orchestra-leader of such disorders
-and follies. To stupefy them he gave a production of his preposterous
-play, _Les Mammelles de Tiresias._ From the point of view of "action,"
-of living, these were his greatest moments. Even before the war, these
-carryings on had passed all boundaries and were a source of scandal all
-over the world. Apollinaire was the man of the day, for this desperate
-crowd. He _made_ poets and painters. "He made men and women seem much
-madder than they really were." While they understood little his interior
-laughter, his rebellious imagination.
-
-I have stressed Apollinaire's social adventures, regarding them as an
-aspect of his creative expression. Wholly absorbed in art, he was
-completely wanting in the false reverence and dignity which some affect.
-Believing in the new painting of Picasso, Braque, Dérain, he could as
-well hold a street demonstration, parading his friends as sandwich-men
-bearing cubist paintings.
-
-In the last days of 1918 he was stricken with influenza and was taken
-off very quickly. All the fools and freaks stopped pirouetting.
-
-_Calligrammes_, his book of war poems had just appeared, and it is
-agreed that his strongest and most singular expressions lie in these
-reactions to the war. All other artists were involuntarily baffled by
-their moral sentiments. Only Apollinaire, with his completely negative
-philosophy, his un-morality, his shame in all of the common virtues,
-could retort to this war with his gorgeous buffoonery and his ringing
-apostrophes. He seized the new meanings of the modern era, from the
-phallic zeppelins in the sky, the labels on his tobacco tins, the pages
-of newspapers, or the walls of old cities. If these things are unworthy,
-if the age is damnable, then Apollinaire is damned.
-
-"Is there nothing new under the sun?" he asks. "Nothing--for the sun,
-perhaps. But for man, everything." He calls upon artists to be at least
-as forward as the mechanical genius of the time. The artist is to stop
-at nothing in his quest for novelty of form and material; to seize upon
-all the infinite possibilities afforded by the new instruments and
-opportunities, creating thereby the myths and fables of the future.
-
-
-MATTHEW JOSEPHSON
-
-
-
-
-_To René Dalize_
-
-
-
-
-I. RENOWN
-
-
-The glory of Croniamantal is now universal. One hundred and twenty-three
-towns in seven countries on four continents dispute the honor of this
-notable hero's birth. I shall attempt, further on, to elucidate this
-important question.
-
-All of these people have more or less modified the sonorous name of
-Croniamantal. The Arabs, the Turks and other races who read from right
-to left have never failed to pronounce it Latnamainorc, but the Turks
-call him, bizarrely enough, Pata, which signifies goose or genital
-organ. The Russians surname him Viperdoc, that is, born of a fart, the
-reason for this soubriquet will be seen later on. The Scandinavians, or
-at least, the Dalecarlians, call him at will, _quoniam_, in Latin, which
-means, _because_, but often serves to indicate the noble passages in
-popular accounts of the middle ages. It is to be noted that the Saxons
-and the Turks manifest with regard to Croniamantal, a similar sentiment,
-since they refer to him by an identical surname, whose origin, however,
-is still scarcely explained. It is believed that this is an euphemistic
-allusion to the fact stressed in the medical report of the Marseilles
-doctor, Ratiboul, on the death of Croniamantal. According to this
-official document, all the organs of Croniamantal were sound, and the
-lawyer-physician added in Latin, as did Napoleon's aide Major Henry:
-_partes viriles exiguitatis insignis, sicut pueri._
-
-For the rest, there are countries where the notion of the Croniamantalian
-virility has entirely disappeared. Thus, the negroes in Moriana
-call him Tsatsa or Dzadza or Rsoussour, all feminine names, for
-they have feminized Croniamantal as the Byzantines feminized Holy
-Friday in making it Saint Parascevia.[1]
-
-
-
-
-II. PROCREATION
-
-
-Two leagues from Spa, on the road bordered by gnarled trees and bushes,
-Vierselin Tigoboth, an ambulant musician who was coming on foot from
-Liège, struck his flint to light his pipe. A woman's voice cried:
-
-He lifted his head, and a wild laugh burst out: "Hahaba! Hohoho! Hihihi!
-thine eyelids are the color of Egyptian lentils! My name is Macarée. I
-want a tom-cat."
-
-Vierselin Tigoboth perceived by the roadside a young woman, brunette and
-formed of nice curves. How charming she seemed in her short bicyclist's
-skirt! And holding her bicycle with one hand, while gathering sloes with
-the other, she ardently fixed her great golden eyes on the Flemish
-musician.
-
-"_Vs'estez one belle bâcelle_," said Vierselin Tigoboth, smacking his
-tongue. "But, my God, if you eat all those sloes, you will have the
-colic tonight, I'm sure."
-
-"I want a tom-cat," repeated Macarée and unclasping her bodice she
-showed Vierselin Tigoboth her breasts, sweet as the buttocks of the
-angels, and whose aureole was the tender color of the rose clouds of
-sunset.
-
-"Oh! oh!" cried Vierselin Tigoboth, "As pretty as the pearls of
-Amblevia, give them to me. I shall gather a big bouquet of ferns for you
-and of irises, color of the moon."
-
-Vierselin Tigoboth approached to seize this miraculous flesh which was
-being offered to him for nothing, like the holy bread at Mass; but then
-he restrained himself.
-
-"You're a sweet lass, by God, you're nicer than the fair of Liège.
-You're a nicer little girl than Donnaye, than Tatenne, than Victoire,
-whose gallant I have been, and nicer than Rénier's daughters, whom old
-Rénier always has for sale. Mind you, if you want to be my love, 'ware
-o' the crablouse, by God."
-
-
-MACARÉE
-
-_They are the color of the moon
-And round as the wheel of Fortune._
-
-
-VIERSELIN TIGOBOTH
-
-_If you fear not to catch the louse
-Then I should love to be your spouse._
-
-
-And Vierselin Tigoboth approached, his lips full of kisses: "I love you!
-It is pooh! O beloved!"
-
-Soon there were nothing but sighs, the songs of birds and of russet and
-horned little hares, like elves, fleet as the seven-league boots,
-passing by Vierselin Tigoboth and Macarée, prone under the power of
-love behind the plumtrees.
-
-Then Macarée was off on the old contraption.
-
-And sad unto death, Vierselin Tigoboth cursed the instrument of velocity
-which rolled away and vanished behind the terraced rotunda, at the same
-moment that the musician began to make water while humming a jingle...
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration 02]
-
-
-
-
-III. GESTATION
-
-
-Macarée soon became aware that she had conceived by Vierselin Tigoboth.
-
-"How annoying!" she thought at first, "But medicine has made much
-progress lately. I shall get rid of it when I want. Ah! that Walloon! He
-will have toiled in vain. Can Macarée bring up the son of a vagabond?
-No, no, I condemn this embryo to death. I should never even preserve
-this foetus in alcohol. And thou, my belly, if thou knewest how much I
-love thee since knowing thy goodness. What, wouldst stoop to carry such
-baggage as thou findest along the road? O too innocent belly, thou art
-unworthy of my selfish soul.
-
-"What shall I say, o belly? thou'rt cruel, thou partest children from
-their parents. No! I love thee no longer. Thou'rt naught but a full bag,
-at this moment, o my belly, smiling at the nombril, o elastic belly,
-downy, polished, convex, sorrowful, round, silky, which ennobles me. For
-thou makest noble, o my belly, more beautiful than the sunlight. Thou
-shalt ennoble also the child of the Flemish vagabond and thou art worthy
-of the loins of Jupiter. What a misfortune! a moment ago I was about to
-destroy a child of noble race, my child who already lives in my beloved
-belly."
-
-She opened the door suddenly and cried:
-
-"Madame Dehan! Mademoiselle Baba!"
-
-There was a rattling of doors and bolts and then the proprietors of
-Macarée's lodging came running out.
-
-"I am pregnant," cried Macarée, "I am pregnant!"
-
-She was sitting up in bed, her legs spread apart. Her skin looked very
-delicate. Macarée was narrow at the waist and broad-hipped.
-
-"Poor little one," said Madame Dehan, who had but one eye, no waistline,
-a moustache, and limped. "After confinement women are just like crushed
-snail-shells. After confinement women are simply prey to disease (look
-at me!) an egg-shell full of all sorts of rubbish, incantations and
-other witch-spells. Ah! Ah! You have done very well."
-
-"All foolishness," said Macarée. "The duty of women is to have
-children, and I am sure that their health is generally improved thereby,
-both physically and morally."
-
-"Where are you sick?" asked Mademoiselle Baba.
-
-"Shut up! I say," exclaimed Madame Dehan. "Better go and look for my
-flask of Spa elixir and bring some little glasses."
-
-Mademoiselle Baba brought the elixir. They drank of it.
-
-"I feel better now," said Madame Dehan, "After so much emotion, I need
-to refresh myself."
-
-She poured out another little glass of the elixir for herself, drank it
-and licked the last few drops up with her tongue.
-
-"Think of it," she said finally, "think of it, Madame Macarée ... I
-swear by all that I hold sacred, Mademoiselle Baba can be my witness,
-this is the first time that such a thing has happened to one of my
-tenants. And how many I have had! My Lord! Louise Bernier, whom they
-nicknamed Wrinkle, because she was so skinny; Marcelle la Carabinière
-(the freshest thing you ever saw!); Josuette, who died of a sunstroke in
-Christiania, the sun wishing thus to have his revenge of Joshua; Lili de
-Mercœur, a grand name, mind you, (not hers of course) and then vile
-enough for a chic woman, as Mercœur put it: 'You must pronounce it
-Mercure,' screwing up her mouth like a chicken's hole. Well she got
-hers, all right, they filled her as full of mercury as a thermometer.
-She would ask me in the morning; What sort of weather do you think we'll
-have today?' But I would always answer: 'You ought to know better than
-I...' Never, never in the world would any of those have become enceinte
-in my house."
-
-"Oh well, it isn't as bad as that," said Macarée, "I also never had it
-happen to me before. Give me some advice, but make it short."
-
-At this moment she arose.
-
-"Oh!" cried Madame Dehan, "what a well-shaped behind you have! how
-sweet! how white! what embonpoint! Baba, Madame Macarée is going to put
-on her dressing-gown. Serve coffee and bring the bilberry tart."
-
-Macarée put on a chemise and then a dressing gown whose belt was made
-of a Scotch shawl.
-
-Mademoiselle Baba came back; she brought a big platter with cups, a
-coffee pot, milk-pitcher, jar of honey, butter cakes and the bilberry
-tart.
-
-"If you want some good advice," said Madame Dehan, wiping away with the
-back of her hand the coffee that dribbled down her chin, "You had better
-go and baptize your child."
-
-"I shall make sure and do that," said Macarée.
-
-"And I even think," said Mademoiselle Baba, "that it would be best to do
-it on the day he is born."
-
-"In fact," Madam Dehan mumbled, her mouth full of food, "you can never
-tell what may happen. Then you will nurse him yourself, and if I were
-you, if I had money like you, I should try to go to Rome before the
-confinement and get the Pope to bless me. Your child will never know
-either the paternal caress or blow, he will never utter the sweet name
-of papa. May the blessing of the Holy Papa at least follow him all his
-life."
-
-And Madame Dehan began to sob like a kettle boiling over, while Macarée
-burst into tears as abundant as a spouting whale. But what of
-Mademoiselle Baba? Her lips blue with berries, she wept so hard that
-from her throat the sobs flooded down to her hymen and nearly choked
-her.
-
-
-
-
-IV. NOBILITY
-
-
-After having won a great deal of money at baccarat, and already rich,
-thanks to Love, Macarée, whose corpulency nothing could conceal, came
-to Paris, where above all, she ran after the most fashionable modistes.
-
-How chic she was, how chic she was!
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-One night when she went to the Théâtre Français a play with a moral
-was presented. In the first act, a young woman whom surgery had rendered
-sterile lamented the fatness of her husband who had the dropsy and was
-very jealous. The doctor went out saying:
-
-"Only a great miracle and great devotion can save your husband."
-
-In the second act, the young woman said to the young doctor:
-
-"I offer myself up for my husband. I want to become dropsical in his
-stead."
-
-"Let us love each other, Madame. And if you are not unfaithful to the
-principle of maternity your wish will be granted. And what sweet glory I
-shall have thereof!"
-
-"Alas!" murmured the lady, "I no longer have any ovaries."
-
-"Love," cried the doctor at this, "Love, madame, is capable of working
-the greatest miracles."
-
-In the third act, the husband, thin as an I, and the lady, eight months
-gone, felicitated each other on the exchange they had made. The doctor
-communicated to the Academy of Medicine the results of his experiments
-in the fecundation of women become sterile as a result of surgical
-operations.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-Toward the end of the third act, someone shouted "Fire!" in the hall.
-The frightened spectators rushed from the hall howling. In fleeing,
-Macarée possessed herself of the arm of the first man she encountered.
-He was well dressed and fair of feature, and as Macarée was charming,
-he seemed flattered that she had chosen him as her protector. They made
-each other's acquaintance at a café and from there went to sup in the
-Montmartre. But it appeared that François des Ygrées had negligently
-forgotten to take his purse with him. Macarée gladly paid the bill. And
-François des Ygrées pushed gallantry so far as not to allow Macarée
-to spend the night alone, the incident at the theatre having rendered
-her nervous.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-François, baron des Ygrées (a doubtful baronetcy belonging to whoever
-claimed it) called himself the last offshoot of a noble house of
-Provence and pursued a career in heraldry on the sixth floor of an
-apartment in the rue Charles V.
-
-"But," he said, "the revolutions and the demagogues have changed things
-so that arms are no longer studied except by ill-born archaeologists,
-and the nobility is no longer tutored in this art."
-
-The baron des Ygrées, whose coat of arms was of _azur à trois pairies
-d'argent posés en pal_, was able to inspire enough sympathy in Macarée
-for her to want to take lessons in heraldry out of gratitude for that
-night at the Théâtre Français.
-
-Macarée showed herself, it is true, little given to learning the
-terminology of heraldry, and one might even say that she did not
-interest herself seriously in anything but the arms of the Pignatelli
-who had furnished popes for the Church and whose coat-of-arms was
-adorned with kettles.
-
-However, these lessons were wasted time to neither Macarée nor
-François des Ygrées, for they ended by marrying. Macarée brought as
-her dot, her money, her beauty and her fatness. François des Ygrées
-offered to Macarée a great name and his noble bearing.
-
-Neither complained of the bargain and they found themselves very
-happy.
-
-"Macarée, my dear wife," said François des Ygrées a few days after
-their marriage, "Why have you ordered so many robes? It seems to me that
-hardly a day passes without some modiste brings new costumes. They do,
-true enough, honor to your taste and to their skill."
-
-Macarée hesitated for a moment and then replied:
-
-"It is to our honeymoon that you refer, François!"
-
-"Our honeymoon, yes, I have thought of it. But where do you want to
-go?"
-
-"To Rome," said Macarée.
-
-"To Rome, like the bells of Easter?"
-
-"I want to see the Pope," said Macarée.
-
-"Very fine, but what for?"
-
-"That he may bless the child who lies under my heart," said Macarée.
-
-"Phew-ew-ew!"
-
-"It will be your son," said Macarée.
-
-"You are quite right, Macarée. We shall go to Rome like the bells of
-Easter. You will order a new robe of black velvet; and the dressmaker
-must not neglect to embroider our arms at the bottom of the skirt: of
-_azur à trois pairies d'argent posés en pal._"
-
-
-
-
-V. PAPACY
-
-
-_Per carita_, baroness, (I had almost called you Mademoiselle!) Ah! Ah!
-Ah! But the _baron_, your husband, he would protest. Ah! ah! quite true,
-you have a little belly which commences to become arrogant. They do
-their work well, I see, in France. Ah! if that fine country would only
-become religious again, the population decimated by anti-clericalism
-would at once, (yes, _baroness_) the population would increase
-considerably. Ah! dear Christ! how well she listens, the _arrogantine_,
-when one talks seriously, yes, _baroness_, you have the air of an
-_arrogantine._ Ah! ah! ah! so, you want to see the Pope. Ah! ah! ah! the
-benediction of a mere cardinal like me will not do. Ah! ah! tut-tut, I
-understand quite well. Ah! ah! I shall try to obtain an audience for
-you. Oh! no need to thank me, you can let my hand go. How well she
-kisses, the _arrogantine_, oh! Come here, again, I want you to carry
-away with you a little souvenir of me.
-
-"There! a chain, with the medal of the holy house of Lorette. Let me put
-it about your neck... Now that you have the medal you must promise me
-never to part with it. There, there, there! Come here so that I can kiss
-you on the forehead. Come, come, can she be afraid of me, the little
-_arrogantine?_ Done! Now tell me why you laugh?... Nothing! Well! Now,
-one bit of advice! When you go to the Vatican, I warn you not to use so
-much odour, I mean so much perfume. Goodbye, _arrogantine._ Come and see
-me again. My compliments to _the baron._"
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-It was thus, that, thanks to Cardinal Ricottino, who had been to Paris
-as _nuncio_, Macarée obtained an audience with the Pope.
-
-She went to the Vatican dressed in her beautiful armorial robe. The
-baron des Ygrées, in full dress, accompanied her. He admired much the
-bearing of the royal guards, and the Swiss mercenaries, inclined to
-drunkenness and brawling, seemed fine devils to him. He found occasion
-to whisper into his wife's ear something about one of his ancestors who
-was a cardinal under Louis XIII...
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-The couple returned to the hotel deeply moved and almost prostrated by
-the benediction of the Pope. They undressed chastely, and in bed, they
-spoke for a long time about the pontiff, the whitened head of the old
-church, a pressed lily, the snow which Catholics think eternal.
-
-"My dear wife," said François des Ygrées finally, "I esteem you to
-adoration, and I love the child whom the Pope has blessed with all my
-heart. May he come, the blessed infant, but I want him to be born in
-France."
-
-"François," said Macarée, "I have never yet been to Monte-Carlo. Let
-us go there! I needn't lose our whole pile. We are not millionaires, but
-I am sure that we shall be lucky in Monte-Carlo."
-
-"Damn! damn! damn!" swore François, "Macarée, you make me see red."
-
-"Ho, there," cried Macarée, "you gave me a kick, you----"
-
-"I note with pleasure, Macarée," said François des Ygrées waggishly,
-recovering his good humor, "that you do not forget that I am your
-husband."
-
-"Come, then, li'l nobs, let's go to Monaco."
-
-"Yes, but you must have your confinement in France, for Monaco is an
-independent state."
-
-"Agreed," said Macarée.
-
-On the morrow the baron des Ygrées and the baroness, all swollen by
-mosquito bites, took tickets at the station for Monaco. In the coach
-they laid charming plans.
-
-
-
-
-VI. GAMBRINUS
-
-
-The baron and the baroness des Ygrées in taking tickets for Monaco had
-thought to arrive at the station which is the fifth on the way from
-Italy to France and the second in the little principality of Monaco.
-
-The name of Monaco is properly the Italian name of this principality,
-although it is widely used nowadays in French, the French terms
-_Mourgues_ and _Monéghe_ having fallen into desuetude.
-
-However the Italians call Monaco, not only the principality which bears
-that name but also the capital of Bavaria which the French call Munich.
-The messenger accordingly gave the baron tickets for Monaco-Munich
-instead of Monaco-principality. Before the baron and the baroness had
-noticed their error they were already at the Swiss frontier, and after
-having recovered from their astonishment, they decided to finish the
-voyage to Munich in order to see at close hand all that the
-anti-artistic spirit of modern Germany could conceive of ugliness in
-architecture, sculpture, painting and the decorative arts...
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-The cold winds of March made the couple shiver in this stone-box
-Athens.
-
-"Beer," the baron des Ygrées had said, "is excellent for women who are
-enceinte."
-
-And so he led his wife to the royal brewery of Pschorr, to the
-Augustinerbräu, to the Münchnerkindl and other great breweries. They
-penetrated to the Nockerberg where there is a great garden. They drank
-there, as long as it held out, the famous March beer, _Salvator_, and it
-didn't last very long, for the Munich people are great drunkards.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-When the baron and his wife entered the garden they found it thronged
-with a mob of drinkers, who were already under-the-weather and sang head
-to head and danced dizzily, breaking all the empty steins.
-
-Peddlers sold roast fowl, grilled herrings, pretzels, rolls, sausages,
-sweets, souvenirs, post-cards. And there was also Hans Irlbeck, the King
-of Drinkers. Since Perkeo, the midget drunkard of the great cask of
-Heidelberg, no such boozer had ever been seen. At the time of the March
-beer, and in May, Bock-time, Hans Irlbeck drank his forty quarts of beer
-a day. Ordinarily he did not have occasion to drink more than
-twenty-five.
-
-Just as the gracious Ygrées pair passed by, Hans placed his colossal
-buttocks on a bench which, bearing already the weight of some twenty
-huge men and women, cracked disconsolately. The drinkers fell, their
-legs in the air. Some bare thighs could be seen because Munich ladies
-never wear their stockings above their knees. Bursts of laughter
-everywhere. Hans Irlbeck who had also been floored, but had not let go
-of his stein, spilled its contents over the belly of a girl who had
-rolled near him, and the beer bubbling under her resembled that which
-she did when she got to her feet after swallowing a quart at one gulp in
-order to recover her composure.
-
-But the proprietor of the garden cried:
-
-"_Donnerkeil!_ damned swine ... a bench broken."
-
-And he started off with his towel under his arm, calling loudly for the
-waiters:
-
-"Franz! Jacob! Ludwig! Martin!" while the patrons called for the
-proprietor:
-
-"_Ober! Ober!_"
-
-However the Oberkellner and the waiters did not come back. The drinkers
-crowded about the counters and took their steins themselves, but the
-kegs were no longer emptied, and no more were heard the sonorous blows
-of another cask being put under the hammer. The singing ceased, the
-drinkers, angered, proffered oaths at the brewers and at the March beer
-itself. Some profited by the lull to vomit with violent efforts, their
-eyes almost popping out of their heads; their neighbors encouraged them
-with imperturbable seriousness. Hans Irlbeck who had picked himself up,
-not without difficulty, grumbled with a great snort:
-
-"There is no more beer in Munich!"
-
-And he repeated, with the accent of his native city:
-
-"Minchen! Minchen! Minchen!"
-
-After raising his eyes toward heaven, he fell upon a vendor of fowls,
-and having ordered him to roast a goose for him, began to formulate his
-desires:
-
-"No more beer in Munich... if there were only some white radishes!"
-
-And he repeated many times the Munich expression:
-
-"Raadi, raadi, raadi..."
-
-Suddenly he stopped. The crowd of drinkers, beside themselves, gave a
-cry of exultation. The four waiters had just appeared at the door of the
-brewery. With dignity they were carrying a sort of canopy under which
-the Oberkellner marched proud and erect, like a negro king dethroned.
-Behind him came fresh kegs of beer which were put under the hammer at
-the sound of the bell, while shouts of laughter rang out, and cries and
-songs rose above this teeming butte, hard and agitated as the Adam's
-apple of Gambrinus himself, when, burlesqued in the costume of a monk, a
-white radish in one hand, he tossed off with the other the jug which
-rejoiced his gullet.
-
-And the unborn child found himself right shaken by the laughter of
-Macarée who, greatly amused by the spectacle of this colossal gluttony,
-drank and drank in company with her spouse.
-
-But then, the vivacity of the mother exerted a happy influence on the
-character of the offspring who acquired therefrom much common sense,
-before his birth, and some of the real common sense, of course, which
-great poets are made of.
-
-
-
-
-VII. CONFINEMENT
-
-
-Baron François des Ygrées left Munich when the baroness knew that the
-hour of delivery was approaching. Monsieur des Ygrées did not want to
-have a child born in Bavaria; he was sure that that country was overrun
-with syphilis.
-
-They arrived in the springtime, in the little port of Napoule, which in
-an excellently turned verse the baron baptised for eternity:
-
-
-_Napoule of the golden skies._
-
-
-It was there that the delivery of Macarée's child took place.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-"Ah! Ah! Aie! Aie! Aie! Ouh! Ouh! Whee-ee-ee!"
-
-The three local midwives took to improvising pleasantly:
-
-
-FIRST MIDWIFE
-
-I dream of war.
-
-O my friends, the stars, the bright stars, have you ever counted them?
-
-O my friends, do you even remember the titles of all the books you have
-read and the names of their authors?
-
-O my friends, have you ever thought of the poor men who tread the broad
-highways?
-
-The herdsmen of the golden age led their herds to pasture without fear
-that the cattle would flee, they feared only the jungle beasts.
-
-O my friends, what do you think of all these cannons?
-
-
-SECOND MIDWIFE
-
-What do I think of these cannons? They are vigorous phalli.
-
-O my beautiful nights! I am happy because of a sinister horn which
-enchanted me last night, 'tis a good augury. My hair is perfumed with
-abelmosch.
-
-O! the beautiful and rigid phalli that these cannons are! If women had
-to do military service they would all go into the artillery. The sight
-of the cannons in battle would be strange for them.
-
-Lights are born on the sea far off.
-
-Reply, o Zelotide, reply with thy sweet voice.
-
-
-THIRD MIDWIFE
-
-I love his eyes at night, he knows my hair well and its odour. In the
-streets of Marseilles an officer pursued me for a long time. He was well
-dressed and of fair colour, there was gold on his costume and his mouth
-tempted me, but I fled his kisses and took refuge in my "bedroom" of the
-"family-house" where I was stopping.[2]
-
-
-FIRST MIDWIFE
-
-O Zelotide, spare the sad men as thou sparest this beau. Zelotide what
-thinkest thou of the cannons.
-
-
-SECOND MIDWIFE
-
-Alas! Alas! I want to be loved.
-
-
-THIRD MIDWIFE
-
-They are the tools of the ignoble love of the people. O Sodom! Sodom. O
-sterile love!
-
-
-FIRST MIDWIFE
-
-But we are women, why dost thou speak of Sodom?
-
-
-THIRD MIDWIFE
-
-The fire of heaven devoured her.
-
-
-THE CONFINED
-
-When you have finished your monkey-tricks, if it please you, will you
-not forget to give a little attention to the baroness des Ygrées.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-The baron slept in a corner of the room on several travelling blankets.
-He made a fart which caused his better half to laugh until the tears
-came. Macarée wept, cried, laughed and a few moments later brought into
-the world a sturdy child of the male sex. Then, exhausted by these
-efforts, she rendered up her soul, with a scream that was like the
-ululation of the eternal first wife of Adam, when she crossed the Red
-Sea.
-
-In reporting the above, I believe that I have elucidated the important
-question of the birthplace of Croniamantal. Let the 123 towns in 7
-countries dispute the honor of his birth.[3]
-
-We know now, and the state records bear testimony that he was born of
-the paternal fart at _Napoule of the golden skies_, on the 25th of
-August, 1889, but not announced at the mayoralty until the following
-morning.[4]
-
-It was the year of the Universal Exposition, and the Eiffel Tower, which
-was just born, saluted the heroic birth of Croniamantal with a beautiful
-erection.
-
-The baron des Ygrées made another fart which woke him by the macabre
-bed where the corpse of Macarée reclined. The child cried, the midwives
-croaked, the father sobbed, and declaimed:
-
-"Ah, Napoule with the golden skies, I have killed my hen with the golden
-eyes!"
-
-Then he bathed the new-born calling him by a name which he invented
-forthwith and which did not belong to any saint in Paradise:
-CRONIAMANTAL. He left on the following day, having arranged for the
-funeral of his spouse, written the necessary letters assuring his
-inheritance, and announced the child under the names of
-Gaëtan—Francis—Etienne—Jack—Amélie—Alonso des Ygrées. And
-with this nursling whose putative father he was, he took the train for
-the Principality of Monaco.[5]
-
-
-
-
-VIII. MAMMON
-
-
-A widower, François des Ygrées established himself near the
-principality; on the grounds of Roquebrune; he took pension with a
-family, which included a pretty brunette called Mia. There he reared the
-bearer of his own name with the baby-bottle.
-
-Often he would go out at dawn for a walk at the sea shore. The road was
-fringed with amaryllis which he would always compare involuntarily with
-packages of dried cod. Sometimes, because of the contrary winds, he
-would turn to light an Egyptian cigarette whose smoke rose in spirals
-like the bluish mountains emerging far off in Italy.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-The family in whose bosom he had installed himself was composed of the
-father, the mother and Mia. M. Cecchi, a Corsican, was a croupier at the
-casino. He had previously been croupier at Baden-Baden and had married a
-German woman there. Of this union Mia was born; her carnation tint and
-black hair bespoke her Corsican blood. She was always dressed in buoyant
-colors. Her walk was balanced, her figure arched; she was smaller at the
-breast than at the buttocks, and a touch of strabism lent her dark eyes
-a somewhat distraught look, which only rendered her more tempting.
-
-Her speech was lazy, soft, guttural, but pleasant nevertheless. It was
-the accent of the Monegascans whose syntax Mia followed. After having
-seen the young girl gather roses, François des Ygrées began to take
-notice of her and was much amused by her syntax for whose rules he
-enjoyed making research... First of all, he noticed the italianisms in
-her vocabulary, and especially the habit of conjugating the verb "to be"
-with the wrong auxiliary. For example, Mia would say: "_Je suis
-étée_," instead of "_J'ai été._" He also noted her bizarre way of
-repeating the verb in her principal clause: "I was at the Moulins, while
-you went to Menton, I was;" or better: "This year I am going to the
-gingerbread fair at Nice, I am."
-
-One time before sunrise, François des Ygrées went down to the garden.
-He abandoned himself to sweet reveries, during which he caught cold. All
-of a sudden he began to sneeze about twenty times in succession.
-
-Sneezing aroused him. He saw that the sky had whitened and the horizon
-cleared with the first light of dawn. Then the first shafts of sunlight
-enflamed the sky along the Italian coast. Before him spread the still
-sorrowful sea, and on the horizon, like little clouds above the film of
-sea, could be seen the curving peaks of Corsica, which always
-disappeared after the rising of the sun. The baron des Ygrées shivered,
-then he yawned and stretched himself. He kept on regarding the sea to
-the east where one might have said there glittered a royal navy in sight
-of a seaport with white houses, Bodighère, which furnished palms for
-the festivities of the Vatican. He turned toward the immobile guardian
-of the garden, a great cypress, begirt with a full-blown rose bush which
-clambered up almost to its top. François des Ygrées breathed of the
-sumptuous roses of nonpareil fragrance whose petals, as yet closed, were
-of flesh.
-
-And just then Mia called him to have his breakfast.
-
-With her braid hanging down her back, she had just come to pick some
-figs and she was letting a few creamy drops flow into a pitcher of milk.
-She smiled at François des Ygrées, saying:
-
-"Have you slept well?"
-
-"No, there are too many mosquitoes."
-
-"Don't you know that when you are stung you should rub the place with
-lemon and in order not to be stung by them you should put vaseline on
-your face before going to sleep. They never bite me."
-
-"That would be too bad. For you are very pretty, and ought to be told so
-oftener."
-
-"There are those who tell me so and others who think so without telling.
-Those who tell it to me make me neither hot nor cold, as for the others,
-so much the worse for them..."
-
-And François des Ygrées conceived at once a little fable for the
-timid:
-
-
-FABLE OF THE OYSTER AND THE HERRING
-
-An oyster dwelt, beautiful and wise, on a rock. She never dreamed of
-love but during fine weather simply bayed beatifically at the sun. A
-herring saw her and it was as a spark of powder. He tumbled hopelessly
-in love with her without daring to avow it.
-
-One summer day, happy and coy, the oyster yawned. Smuggled behind a rock
-the herring looked on, but all at once the desire to imprint a kiss upon
-his beloved became so overpowering that he could no longer restrain
-himself.
-
-And so he threw himself between the open shells of the oyster who in her
-surprise shut them with a snap, decapitating the wretched herring, whose
-headless body floats aimlessly upon the ocean.
-
-
-"'Twas so much the worse for the herring," said Mia laughing, "He was
-much too foolish. I too want people to tell me that I am pretty, not for
-fun, but so as we can marry..."
-
-And François des Ygrées noted for future consideration her curious
-peculiarities of syntax: "so as we can marry." ...And he thought
-further: "She doesn't love me. Macarée dead. Mia indifferent. Alas I am
-unhappy in love."
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-One day he found himself in the valley of Gaumates on a little knoll
-covered with skinny little pines. The shore trimmed by the white-blue of
-the waves stretched far out before him. The Casino emerged from the bank
-of splendid trees in its gardens. This palace looked like a man
-squatting and lifting his arms toward heaven. Near it, François des
-Ygrées hearkened to an invisible Mammon:
-
-"Regard this palace, François, it is made in the image of man. It is
-sociable like him. It loves those who come to it and especially, those
-who are unhappy in love. Go there and thou wilt win, for thou canst not
-lose in play, since thou hast lost all in love."
-
-Since it was six o'clock, the angelus tinkled from the different
-churches in the neighborhood. The voice of the bells prevailed against
-the voice of the invisible Mammon, who became silent, while François
-des Ygrées searched for him.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-On the next day, François took the road to the temple of Mammon. It was
-Palm Sunday. The streets were littered with children, young girls and
-women carrying palms and olive-branches. The palms were either very
-simple or woven in a peculiar fashion. At each corner of the street, the
-weavers of palms were sitting against the wall, working. Under their
-deft hands the palm fibers bent, circled bizarrely and charmingly. The
-children were playing about already with hard eggs. On a square a troop
-of urchins were pummelling a red-headed kid whom they had found trying
-to consume a marble egg. Very small girls were going to mass, well
-dressed and carrying like candles the woven palms in which their mothers
-had hung sweet-meats.
-
-François des Ygrées thought:
-
-"The sight of these palms brings good luck and today, which is gay
-Easter, I shall break the bank."
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-In the game hall, he regarded at first the diverse throng which pressed
-about the tables...
-
-François des Ygrées approached a table and played. He lost. The
-invisible Mammon had come back and spoke sharply each time they erased a
-deal:
-
-"Thou hast lost!"
-
-And François saw the crowd no more, his head was turning, he placed
-louis, packages of bills, on one square, diagonally, transversally. He
-played a long time losing as much as he wanted to.
-
-He turned away at last and saw the whole brilliant hall where the
-players still pressed about the tables as before. Noticing a young man
-whose chagrined face revealed that he had had no luck, François smiled
-at him and asked whether he had lost.
-
-The young man replied angrily:
-
-"You too? A Russian just won more than two hundred thousand francs by my
-side. Ah! if I only had a hundred francs more, I would make up what I
-have lost twenty or thirty times over. But Oh, I have beastly luck, I am
-hoodooed, done for. Imagine..."
-
-And taking François by the arm, he led him toward a divan on which they
-sat down.
-
-"Imagine," he continued, "I have lost everything. I am almost a thief.
-The money I have lost did not belong to me. I am not rich, I had a
-position of trust. My employer sent me to recover claims in Marseilles.
-I got them. I took the train to come here and try my luck. I lost. What
-is there left? They will arrest me. They will say that I am a dishonest
-man, even though I haven't ever profited of the money I took. I have
-lost all. If I had won, no one would have reproached me. What luck I
-have! There is nothing for me to do but to kill myself."
-
-And suddenly rising the young man put a revolver to his mouth and fired.
-The corpse was carried away. Several players turned their heads a
-moment, but none of them bothered at all, and most of them took no
-notice of the incident which, however, made a profound impression on the
-mind of the baron des Ygrées. He had lost all that Macarée had left
-him and the child. As he went out François felt the whole universe
-contract about him like a tiny cell, and then like a coffin. He got back
-to the villa where he lived. At the door he passed Mia who was chatting
-with a stranger who carried a valise.
-
-"I am a Hollander," said the man, "but I live in Provence and I would
-like to hire a room for several days; I have come here to make some
-mathematical observations."
-
-At this moment the baron des Ygrées sent a kiss with his left hand to
-Mia, while with a revolver in his right he blew his brains out and
-rolled in the dust.
-
-"We have only one room to rent," said Mia, "but it has just become
-free."
-
-And she quickly closed the eyelids of the baron des Ygrées, gave cries
-of grief, and aroused the neighborhood.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-As to the young child, whom his father had in such a characteristic
-burst of lyricism named for aye Croniamantal, he was gathered up by the
-Dutch traveller who soon carried him off to bring him up as his own son.
-
-On the day they left, Mia sold her virginity to a millionaire
-trap-shooting-champion, and it was the thirty-fifth time that she had
-lent herself to this little commercial transaction.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration 03]
-
-
-
-
-IX. PEDAGOGY
-
-
-The Dutchman, named Janssen, led Croniamantal to the region of Aix,
-where there was a house which the people of the neighborhood called le
-Chateau. Le Chateau had nothing lordly about it other than its name and
-was nothing but a vast domicile having a dairy and a stable.
-
-Mr. Janssen possessed a modest income and lived alone in this dwelling
-which he had bought in order to live in solitude, a suddenly broken off
-betrothal having rendered him rather hypochondriac. He devoted all his
-energies now to the education of the son of Macarée and Vierselin
-Tigoboth: Croniamantal, heir of the old name of des Ygrées.
-
-The Dutchman, Janssen, had travelled much. He spoke all the languages of
-Europe, Arabian, and Turkish, not to mention Hebrew and other dead
-languages. His speech was as clear as his blue eyes. He soon made the
-friendship of several scholars of Aix whom he would visit from time to
-time and he corresponded with many foreign scientists.
-
-When Croniamantal was six years of age, Mr. Janssen would often take him
-to the country. Croniamantal came to love these lessons along the paths
-of wooded hills. Mr. Janssen would often stop and show Croniamantal the
-birds hopping about or butterflies pursuing each other and fluttering
-together among the wild rose-bushes. He would say that love reigned over
-all of Nature. They would also go out on moonlit nights and the master
-would explain to his pupil the hidden destinies of the heavenly bodies,
-their regular course, and their effects upon the life of man.
-
-Croniamantal never forgot how one moonlit night his master led him to a
-field at the edge of a forest; the grass bubbled with milky light.
-Fireflies fluttered around them; their phosphorescent and jagged lights
-gave the site a strange aspect. The master called the attention of his
-disciple to the sweetness of this May night.
-
-"Learn," he said, "learn to know all of Nature and to love her. Let her
-be your veritable nurse, whose salutary mammals are the moon and the
-hills."
-
-Croniamantal was thirteen years of age at this time and his mind was
-quite ripe. He listened attentively to Mr. Janssen's words.
-
-"I have always lived in her, but I must say, lived badly, for one should
-not live without human love as companion. Do not forget that all is a
-sign of love in Nature. I, alas! am damned for not having observed this
-law whose demands nothing can withstand."
-
-"What," said Croniamantal, "you, my teacher, who know so many sciences
-did not recognize this law which every country lout and even the
-animals, the vegetables, and inert matter observe?"
-
-"Happy child who at your age can put such questions!" said Mr. Janssen.
-"I have always known that law, from which no human being should rebel.
-But there are some luckless men destined never to know the joys of love.
-That often happens to poets and scientists. Their souls are vagabond; I
-am always conscious of existences preceding my own. This knowledge has
-never stirred any but the sterile bodies of scientists. (You should not
-be astonished in the least at what I say.) Whole races respect animals
-and proclaim the principle of metempsychosis, a most worthy belief,
-self-evident but fantastical, since it takes no account of lost forms
-and of their inevitable dispersion. Their worship should have extended
-to the vegetable kingdom and to minerals. For what is the dust of roads
-but the ashes of the dead? It is true that the Ancients did not concede
-life to inert matter. But rabbis believed that the same soul inhabited
-the body of Adam, Moses and David. In fact, the name, Adam, is composed
-in Hebrew of the letters Aleph, Daleth and Mem, the first letters of the
-three names. Your soul like mine, inhabited other human forms, other
-animals, or was dispersed and will continue so after your death, since
-all things must serve again. For perhaps there is nothing new any more,
-and creation has ceased, perhaps... I affirm that I have not desired
-love, but I swear that I would not begin such a life over again. I have
-mortified my flesh and suffered severe punishment. I should like your
-life to be happy."
-
-Croniamantal's master made him devote most of his time to the sciences,
-keeping him au courant with all recent inventions. He also instructed
-the boy in Latin and Greek. They often read the Eclogues of Virgil or
-translated Theocritus in an olive grove. Croniamantal had learned a very
-pure French, but his master taught him in Latin. He also taught him
-Italian, and at an early age Croniamantal received the poems of
-Petrarch, who became one of his favorite poets. Mr. Janssen also taught
-Croniamantal English, and made him familiar with Shakespeare. Above all
-he gave the boy a taste for old French authors. Among the French poets
-he admired chiefly Villon, Ronsard and his pléiade, Racine and La
-Fontaine. He also made him read translations of Cervantes and of Goethe.
-On his advice, Croniamantal read the romances of chivalry which might
-have made part of the library of Don Quixote. They developed in
-Croniamantal an unquenchable thirst for experiment and perilous love
-adventures; he devoted himself to fencing and to horseback riding; at
-the age of fifteen he declared to anyone who came to visit them that he
-had decided to become a celebrated and peerless cavalier, and already he
-dreamed of a mistress.
-
-Croniamantal was, at this time, a handsome youth, thin and straight. The
-girls at the village fêtes, when he touched them lightly, would stifle
-little bursts of laughter and redden, lowering their eyes under his
-regard. Habituated to poetic forms, his mind thought of love as a
-conquest. Thoughts of Boccacio, his natural daring, his education,
-everything disposed him to take the final step.
-
-One May day, he went out for a long ride. It was morning, everything was
-still fresh. The dew hung from the flowers of the hedges, and on either
-side of the road stretched the fields of olive trees whose gray leaves
-trembled gently in the sea breeze and compared agreeably with the blue
-sky. He arrived at a place where the road was being mended. The road
-menders, handsome boys in bright colored caps, worked lazily, singing
-the while, and stopping occasionally to drink from their flasks.
-Croniamantal thought that these handsome fellows had sweethearts. It is
-thus that they call a lover in that country. The boys say "my
-sweetheart," the girls, "my sweetheart," and in fact they are both sweet
-in that lovely country. Croniamantal's heart leaped and his whole being,
-exalted by the springtime and the riding, cried for love.
-
-At a turn in the road, an apparition increased his trouble. He arrived
-close to a little bridge thrown across a river which cut the road. The
-place was isolated, and across the hedges and the trunks of poplars, he
-saw two beautiful girls bathing, quite naked. One was in the water and
-held herself up by a branch. He admired her brown arms and abundant
-beauties, hardly concealed by the water. The other, standing on the
-bank, dried herself after her bath and exposed ravishing lines and
-graces which inflamed the heart of Croniamantal; he decided to join them
-and mingle in their pleasures. Unluckily, he perceived in the branches
-of a neighboring tree two youths spying on this prey. Holding their
-breath and watching the least movements of the bathers, they did not see
-the equestrian, who, laughing uproariously, threw his horse into a
-gallop and cried aloud as he crossed the little bridge.
-
-The sun had risen almost to its zenith and was now darting its dreadful
-rays. An ardent thirst added itself to the amorous inquietudes of
-Croniamantal. The sight of a farm along the road brought him unspeakable
-joy. He arrived at a little orchard whose blossoming trees made a lovely
-sight. It was a little wood, rose and white with the cherry and peach
-blossoms. On the fence linen was drying and he had the pleasure of
-seeing a charming peasant girl of about sixteen, at work washing clothes
-in a vat in the shadow of a fig-tree that had just begun to bloom. Not
-having noticed his arrival, she continued to accomplish her domestic
-function which he found noble; for, his imagination full of memories of
-antiquity, he compared her to Nausica. Descending from his horse he
-approached and contemplated the young girl with ravishment. He looked at
-her back. Her folded up skirt discovered a well made leg in a very white
-stocking. Her body moved in a manner that was pleasantly exciting
-because of the efforts occasioned by the soaping. Her sleeves were
-rolled up and he observed her pretty brown plump arms, which enchanted
-him.
-
-
-I have always loved beautiful arms particularly. There are people who
-attach great importance to the perfection of the foot. I admit that they
-touch me too, but the arm is to my mind that which should be most
-perfect in woman. It is always in motion, one always has one's eye upon
-it. One might say that it is the veritable organ of the graces, and that
-by its deft movements, it is the veritable arm of Love, since when
-curved, this delicate arm resembles a bow, and when extended, the arrow
-thereof.
-
-
-This was also Croniamantal's point of view. He was thinking of this,
-when his horse, who suddenly remembered that it was the habitual hour
-for being fed, began to whinny. At once the young girl turned and showed
-surprise at seeing a stranger regarding her from above the fence. She
-blushed and only seemed the more charming. Her dusky skin attested to
-the Moorish blood that flowed in her veins. Croniamantal asked her for
-food and drink. With much good grace this sweet girl did have him enter
-the house and served him a rude repast. With some milk, eggs, and black
-bread, his thirst and his hunger were soon sated. In the meantime, he
-questioned his young hostess, in the hope of finding an opportunity for
-paying her gallant compliments. He learned that her name was Mariette,
-and that her parents had gone to the neighboring town to sell
-vegetables; her brother was working on the road. This family lived
-happily on the products of the orchard and the barnyard.
-
-At this moment, her parents, fine looking peasants, returned, and there
-was Croniamantal already in love with Mariette, quite disappointed. He
-paid the mother for the meal, and went off, after having given Mariette
-a long look which she did not return, but he had the satisfaction of
-seeing her blush as she turned away.
-
-He mounted his horse and took the road to his house. Being for the first
-time in his life, sad for love, he found extreme melancholy in this same
-countryside which he had previously traversed. The sun had dropped low
-over the horizon. The grey leaves of the olive trees seemed as sad as
-himself. The shadows stretched out like waves. The river where he had
-seen the bathers was abandoned. The lapping of the water became
-unbearable for him, like a mockery. He threw his horse into a gallop.
-Then there was the dusk, lights appearing in the distance. Then night
-came; he slowed up his horse and abandoned himself to a disordered
-revelry. The sloping road was bordered with cypresses, and it was thus,
-somnolent with the night and with love, that Croniamantal pursued his
-melancholy way.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-His master soon noticed in the days that followed that he gave no more
-attention to the studies to which he had been wont to apply himself with
-such diligence. He divined that this disgust came of love.
-
-His respect was mingled with a little scorn because Mariette was nothing
-but a simple peasant girl.
-
-The end of September had been reached, and one day Mr. Janssen led
-Croniamantal out under the laden olive trees in the orchard and censured
-his disciple for his passion, the latter hearkening to his reproaches
-with ruddy embarrassment. The first winds of autumn complained in the
-fields and Croniamantal, very sad and much ashamed, lost forever his
-desire to see again the pretty Mariette and kept nothing but the memory
-of her.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-And so Croniamantal attained his majority.
-
-A disease of the heart which was discovered in him led to his dismissal
-by the military authorities. Soon after, his guardian died suddenly,
-leaving him by will the little which he possessed. And after having sold
-the house called _le Chateau_, Croniamantal went to Paris to give
-himself freely to his taste for literature; he had been for some time
-past composing poems secretly and accumulating them in an old cigar-box.
-
-
-
-
-X. POETRY
-
-
-In the early days of the year 1911, a young man who was very badly
-dressed went running up the rue Houdon. His extremely mobile countenance
-seemed to be filled with joy and anxiety by turns. His eyes devoured all
-that they saw and when his eyelids snapped shut quickly like jaws, they
-gulped in the universe, which renewed itself incessantly by the mere
-operation of him who ran. He imagined to the tiniest details the
-enormous worlds pastured in himself. The clamour and the thunder of
-Paris burst from afar and about the young man, who stopped, and panted
-like some criminal who has been too long pursued and is ready to
-surrender himself. This clamour, this noise indicated clearly that his
-enemies were about to track him like a thief. His mouth and his gaze
-expressed the ruse he was employing, and walking slowly now, he took
-refuge in his memory, and went forward, while all the forces of his
-destiny and of his consciousness retarded the time when the truth should
-appear of that which is, that which was, and of that which is to be.
-
-The young man entered a one story house. On the open door was a
-placard:
-
-
-_Entrance to the Studios_
-
-
-He followed a corridor where it was so dark and so cold that he had the
-feeling of having died, and with all his will, clenching his fists and
-gritting his teeth he began to take eternity to bits. Then suddenly he
-was conscious again of the motion of time whose seconds, hammered by a
-clock, fell like pieces of broken glass, while life flowed in him again
-with the renewed passage of time. But as he stopped to rap at a door,
-his heart beat more strongly again, for fear of finding no one home.
-
-He rapped at the door and cried:
-
-"It is I, Croniamantal!"
-
-And behind the door the heavy steps of a man who seemed tired, or
-carried too weighty a burden, came slowly, and as the door opened there
-took place in the sudden light the creation of two beings and their
-instant marriage.
-
-In the studio, which looked like a barn, an innumerable herd flowed in
-dispersion: they were the sleeping pictures, and the herdsman who tended
-them smiled at his friend. Upon a carpenter's table piles of yellow
-books could be likened to mounds of butter. And pushing back the
-ill-joined door, the wind brought in unknown beings who complained with
-little cries in the name of all the sorrows. All the wolves of distress
-howled behind the door ready to devour the flock, the herdsman and his
-friend, in order to prepare in their place the foundations for the NEW
-CITY. But in the studio there were joys of all colours. A great window
-opened the whole north side and nothing could be seen but the whole blue
-sky, the song of a woman. Croniamantal took off his coat which fell to
-the floor like the corpse of a drowned man, and sitting on the divan he
-gazed for a long time at the new canvas placed on the support. Dressed
-in a blue wrap, barefooted, the painter also regarded the picture in
-which two women remembered themselves in a glacial mist.
-
-The studio contained another fatal object, a large piece of broken
-mirror hooked to the wall. It was a dead and soundless sea, standing on
-end, and at the bottom of which a false life animated what did not
-exist. Thus, confronting Art, there is the appearance of Art, against
-which men are not sufficiently on their guard, and which pulls them to
-earth when Art has raised them to the heights. Croniamantal bent over in
-a sitting posture, leaned his fore-arms on his knees, and turned his
-eyes from the painting to a placard thrown on the floor on which was
-painted the following announcement:
-
-
-I AM AT THE BAR--_The Bird of Benin_
-
-
-He read and re-read this sentence while the Bird of Benin contemplated
-his picture, approaching it and withdrawing from it, his head at all
-angles. Finally he turned towards Croniamantal and said:
-
-"I saw the woman for you last night."
-
-"Who is she?" asked Croniamantal.
-
-"I do not know, I saw her but I do not know her. She is a really young
-girl, as you like them. She has the sombre and child-like face of those
-who are destined to cause suffering. And despite all the grace of her
-hands that straighten in order to repel, she lacks that nobility which
-poets could not love because it would prevent their being miserable. I
-have seen the woman for you, I tell you. She is both beauty and
-ugliness; she is like everything that we love nowadays. And she must
-have the taste of the laurel leaf."
-
-But Croniamantal, who was not listening to him, interrupted at this
-point to say:
-
-"Yesterday I wrote my last poem in regular verses:
-
-
-_Well,
-Hell!_[6]
-
-
-and my last poem in irregular verses (take care that in the second
-stanza the word wench is taken in its less reputable meaning):
-
-
-PROSPECTUS FOR A NEW MEDICINE
-
-_Why did Hjalmar return
-The tankard of beaten silver lay void,
-The stars of the evening
-Became the stars of the morning
-Reciprocally
-The sorceress of the forest of Hruloë
-Prepared her repast
-She was an eater of horse-flesh
-But he was not
-Mai Mai ramaho nia nia._
-
-_Then the stars of the morning
-Became again the stars of the evening
-And reciprocally
-They cried--In the name of Maröe
-Wench of Arnamoer
-And of his favorite zoöphyte
-Prepare the drink of the gods
---Certainly noble warrior
-Mai Mai ramaho nia nia._
-
-_She took the sun
-And plunged him into the sea
-As housewives
-Dip a ham in gravy
-But alas! the salmons voracious
-Have devoured the drowned sun
-And have made themselves wigs
-With his beams
-Mai Mai ramaho nia nia._
-
-_She took the moon and did her all with bands
-As they do with the illustrious dead
-And with little children
-And then in the light of the only stars
-The eternal ones
-She made a concoction of sea-brine
-The euphorbiaceans of Norwegian resin
-And the mucous of Alfes
-To make a drink for the gods
-Mai Mai ramaho nia nia._
-
-_He died like the sun
-And the sorceress perched at the top of a fir pine
-Heard until evening
-The rumours of the great winds engulfed in the phial
-And the lying scaldas swear to this
-Mai Mai ramaho nia nia._
-
-
-Croniamantal was silent for an instant and then added:
-
-"I shall from now on write only poetry free from all restrictions even
-that of language.[7]
-
-"Listen, old man!"
-
-
-MAHEVIDANOMI
-RENANOCALIPNODITOC
-EXTARTINAP # v.s.
-A. Z.
-Telephone: 33-122 Pan : Pan
-OeaoiiiioKTin
-iiiiiiiiiii
-
-
-"Your last line, my poor Croniamantal," said the Bird of Benin, "is a
-simple plagiarism from Fr.nc.s J.mm.s."
-
-"That is not true," said Croniamantal. "But I shall compose no more pure
-poetry. That is what I have come to, through your fault. I want to write
-plays."
-
-"You had better go to see the young woman of whom I spoke to you. She
-knows you and seems to be crazy about you. You will find her in the
-Meudon woods next Thursday at a place that I shall designate. You will
-recognize her by the skipping rope that she will hold in her hand. Her
-name is Tristouse Ballerinette."
-
-"Very well," said Croniamantal, "I shall go to see Ballerinette and
-shall sleep with her, but above all I want to go to the theatres to
-offer my play, Ieximal Jelimite, which I wrote in your studio last year
-while eating lemons."
-
-"Do what you want, my friend," said the Bird of Benin, "but do not
-forget Tristouse Ballerinette, the woman of your future."
-
-"Well said," said Croniamantal. "But I want to roar to you once more the
-plot of Ieximal Jelimite. Listen:
-
-"A man buys a newspaper on the seashore. From the garden of a house at
-one side emerges a soldier whose hands are electric bulbs. A giant 10
-feet tall descends from a tree. He shakes the newspaper vendor, who is
-of plaster and who in falling breaks to bits. At this moment a judge
-arrives. With strokes of a razor he kills everybody, while a leg which
-passes hopping crushes the judge with a kick in the nose, and sings a
-pretty little song."
-
-"How wonderful!" said the Bird of Benin. "I shall paint the decoration,
-you have promised me that."
-
-"That goes without saying," answered Croniamantal.[8]
-
-
-
-
-XI. DRAMATURGY
-
-
-On the following day Croniamantal went to The Theatre, which was meeting
-at Monsieur Pingu's, the financier. Croniamantal succeeded in gaining
-entry by bribing the doorman and the butler. He entered boldly the hall
-where The Theatre, its satellites, its stool-pigeons and its hired thugs
-were gathered.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Ladies and Gentlemen of THE THEATRE, I have come to read you my play
-entitled _Ieximal Jelimite._
-
-
-THE THEATRE
-
-Good gracious, wait a minute, young man, until you have been informed
-about our methods of procedure. You are here in the midst of our actors,
-our authors, our critics and our spectators. Listen attentively and
-don't even speak.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Gentlemen, I thank you for the cordial reception that you give me and I
-shall profit, I am sure, of all that I hear.
-
-
-THE ACTOR
-
-_My rôles have slowly withered like the roses
-But mother, I love my metempsychoses
-O seats of proteus and their metamorphoses_
-
-
-AN OLD STAGE MANAGER
-
-Do you remember, Madame! One snowy night of 1832, a lost stranger
-knocked at the door of a villa situated on the road leading from
-Chanteboun to Sorrento...
-
-
-THE CRITIC
-
-Nowadays, for a play to be successful it is important that it should not
-be signed by its author.
-
-
-THE TRAINER TO HIS BEAR
-
-_Roll about in the sweet peas
-Play dead... suckle...
-Dance the polka... now the mazurka..._
-
-
-CHORUS OF DRINKERS
-
-_Juice o' the grape
-Ruddy liquor
-Let us drink drink
-If we may_
-
-
-CHORUS OF EATERS
-
-_Horde of gluttons
-There's no more
-A crumb left
-In the plate_
-
-
-DRINKERS
-
-_Bloated heads
-Drink o drink
-The juice o' the grape_
-
-
-R.D.RD K.PL.NG, THE ACTOR, THE ACTRESS,
-THE AUTHORS
-(To the spectators)
-Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay!
-
-
-THE PROMPTER
-
-The theatre, my dear brothers, is a school for scandal, it is a place of
-perdition for the soul and the body. According to the testimony of the
-stage carpenters everything is faked in the theatre. Witches older than
-Morgane come there to pose as little girls of fifteen years.
-
-How much blood is spilt in a melodrama! I say truthfully, though it be
-false, this blood will be upon the heads of the children of the authors,
-the actors, the directors, and the spectators, unto the seventh
-generation. _Ne mater suam_, the little girls used to say to their
-mothers. Nowadays they ask: "Are we going to the theatre tonight?"
-
-I tell you frankly my friends. There are few shows which do not endanger
-the soul. Outside of the spectacle of nature I know of nothing that one
-may witness without fear. This last spectacle is Gallic and healthy, my
-dear friends. The sound dilates the glands, chases Satan from the
-stinking shades where he lies and thus the Fathers come in from the
-desert to exorcise themselves.
-
-
-THE MOTHER OF AN ACTRESS
-
-Are you p..., Charlotte?
-
-
-THE ACTRESS
-
-No, mama, I am roasting.
-
-
-M. MAURICE BOISSARD
-
-We have with us today the entrails of a mother!
-
-
-AN AUTHOR WHO HAS A PLAY ACCEPTED
-BY THE COMEDIE-FRANÇAISE
-
-My friend, you do not look very confident today. I am going to explain
-the meaning of several words from the theatrical vocabulary. Listen
-attentively and remember them if you can.
-
-_Acheron_ (ch hard)--A river of Hades, not of hell.
-
-_Artists_ (two types)--Is never used except in speaking of a comedian or
-a comedienne.
-
-_Brother_--Avoid using this substantive together with "little." The
-adjective "young" is more proper.
-
-NOTA BENE--This phrase does not apply to operettas.
-
-"_High Life_"--This very French expression is translated in English as
-"_fashionable people._"
-
-_Liaisons_--They are always dangerous in the theatre.
-
-_Papa_--Two negatives are equal to an affirmative.
-
-_Cooked Potatoes_--(never used in the singular)--A crudity that is
-deleterious to the stomach.
-
-_Tut-tut_--This worn expression...
-
-Would you like to have some titles for plays also? They are very
-important in order to succeed. Here are some sure ones:
-
-THE CONTOUR; _The Circumference_; THE CONDOR; _Hurry up Harry_; THE
-TOWER; _Louise, your shirt is coming out_; STEP ALONG; _The Mysterious
-Bar_; HUNDREDTH TO THE RIGHT; _The Magician_; THE GUELF; _I am going to
-kill you_; MY PRINCE; _The Artichoke_; THE SCHOOL FOR LAWYERS; _The
-Torch-bearer!_
-
-Good-bye, sir, don't thank me.
-
-
-A GREAT CRITIC
-
-Gentlemen, I have come to give you a report of the triumph, last night.
-Are you ready? I begin:
-
-
-GRIT AND GRIP
-
-A play in three acts by Messrs. Julien Tandis, Jean de la Fente, Prosper
-Mordus and Mmes Nathalie de l'Angoumois, Jane Fontaine and the countess
-M. Des Etangs, etc. Sets by Messrs. Alfred Mone, Leon Minie, Al. de
-Lemere. Costumes by Jeanette, hats by Wilhelmine, properties by the
-MacTead Company, phonographs by Hernstein and Company, sanitary napkins
-by Van Feuler Brothers.
-
-I recall the captive who dared to p... before Sesostris. I never saw a
-more poignant scene than this from the play of Messrs, and Mmes etc. I
-must speak of the scene which made such a great hit at the opening night
-and in which the financier Prominoff bursts into a fit of rage against
-the coroner.
-
-The play, which was very good, otherwise, did not accomplish all that
-was expected of it. The courtesan wife who feathers her nest out of the
-green old age of a vulgar brewer, remains, however, an unforgettable and
-touching figure which leaves in the shadow that of Cleopatra and Mme de
-Pompadour. M. Layol is an excellent comedian. He acted the father of a
-family in every sense of the expression. Mlle Jeannine Letrou, a young
-star of tomorrow, has very pretty legs. But the real revelation was Mme
-Perdreau whose sensitive nature we know so well. She acted the scene of
-the reconciliation with the most perfect naturalism. In short a great
-evening and prospects for a hundred night run.[10]
-
-
-THE THEATRE
-
-Young man we are going to give some subjects for plays. If they were
-signed by famous names we would play them, but they are masterpieces by
-unknowns which were given to us and which we are generously turning over
-to you because of your nice face.
-
-
-PLAY WITH A THESIS--The prince of San Meco finds a louse on his wife's
-head and makes a scene. The princess has not slept with the viscount of
-Dendelope for the past six months. The couple make a scene before the
-viscount, who, not having slept with anyone but the princess and Mme
-Lafoulue, wife of a Secretary of State, causes the ministry to fall and
-overwhelms Mme Lafoulue with his scorn.
-
-Mme Lafoulue makes a scene with her husband. Everything becomes clear,
-however, when Monsieur Bibier, the Deputy, arrives. He scratches his
-head. He is stripped. He accuses his electors of being lousy. Finally
-everything is in order once more. Title: _Parliamentarism._
-
-
-COMEDY OF MANNERS--Isabelle Lefaucheux promises her husband that she
-will be faithful to him. Then she remembers that she has promised the
-same thing to Jules, the boy who works in their store. She suffers from
-not being able to grant her faith and her love.
-
-However, Lefaucheux fires Jules. This event precipitates a dramatic
-triumph of love, and we soon find Isabelle cashier in a department store
-where Jules is salesman. Title: _Isabelle Lefaucheux._
-
-
-HISTORICAL PLAY--The famous novelist Stendhal is the ringleader of a
-Bonapartist plot which ends in the heroic death of a young singer during
-a presentation of _Don Juan_ at the Scala Theatre in Milan. Since
-Stendhal had hidden his identity under a pseudonym, he withdraws from
-the affair admirably. Grand marches, procession of historical
-personages.
-
-
-OPERA--Buridan's ass hesitates to satisfy his hunger and his thirst. The
-she-ass of Balaam prophesies that the ass will die. The golden ass
-comes, eats and drinks. The Wild-Ass's-Skin comes and displays his
-nudity to this asinine herd. Passing by, Sancho's ass thinks that he can
-prove his robustness by carrying off the child, but the traitor, Melo,
-warns the Genius of la Fontaine. He proclaims his jealousy and beats the
-golden ass. Metamorphoses. The Prince and the Infant make their entrance
-on horseback. The King abdicates in their favor.
-
-
-PATRIOTIC PLAY--The Swedish government lays suit against the French
-Government for manufacturing an imitation of "Swedish matches." In the
-last act they exhume the remains of an alchemist of the XIVth Century
-who invented these matches, at La Ferté-Gaucher, a village in France,
-not far from Paris.
-
-
-COMEDY----
-
-_The handsome chauffeur
-Cried to his neighbor
-If you will show me your salon
-I wilt show you my kitchen._
-
-Here is enough to nourish a whole career of playwriting, sir.
-
-
-M. LACOUFF, SCHOLAR
-
-Young man, it is also important to know theatrical anecdotes; they help
-to fill out the conversation of a young dramatic author; here are a few:
-
-Frederick the Great was accustomed to having his court actresses whipped
-before each presentation. He believed that flagellation communicated a
-rosy tint to their skin which was not without its charm.
-
-At the court of the Grand Turk, the _Bourgeois Gentilhomme_ was being
-played, but in order to adapt it to the taste of the environment the
-_mamamouchi_ became a Knight of the Garter.[9]
-
-Cecile Vestris, while returning to Mayence, one day, had her carriage
-held up by the famous Rhenish bandit Schinderhans. She rallied her
-spirits against this ill-fortune and danced for Schinderhans in the hall
-of a roadside tavern.
-
-Ibsen was sleeping one time with a young Spanish lady who cried out at
-the proper moment:
-
-"Now!... now!... Mr. Dramatist!"
-
-An erudite actor admitted to me that he had liked only one statue in all
-his life: _The Squatting Scribe_, sculptured by an Egyptian, long before
-Jesus-Christ, and which he saw in the Louvre. But they are beginning to
-talk much less of Scribe, and yet he still reigns over the theatre.
-
-
-THE THEATRE
-
-Do not forget the final scene, nor the words at the end, nor the fact
-that the more crust you have the more you shine, nor that a number that
-is cited must end in 7 or 3 in order to seem accurate; nor not to lend
-money to anybody who says: "I have five acts at the Odéon," or "I have
-three acts at the Comédie-Française," nor to say carelessly: "If you
-want some free passes, I have so many of them, that I am obliged to give
-them to my concierge;" that doesn't lead to anything.
-
-
-A young man at this point made good the occasion to come and sing with
-equivocal gestures and a lascivious air, some childish and entrancing
-songs.
-
-
-M. PINGU
-
-What juice, sir!
-
-
-M. LACOUFF
-
-Juice of the hat?
-
-
-M. PINGU
-
-No-no! I am mistaken. What a fluid!
-
-He trembles like the paunch of an archbishop.
-
-
-M. LACOUFF
-
-Use the proper word, not your paunch.
-
-
-M. PINGU
-
-What a joy, sir, what a joy! It would soften a crocodile to tears and
-would please a scholar as well as a financier.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Good-bye, gentlemen, I am your devoted servant. With your permission I
-will return in a few days. I feel that my play is not in proper shape
-yet.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration 04]
-
-
-
-
-XII. LOVE
-
-
-On a spring morning, Croniamantal, following the instructions of the
-Bird of Benin, reached the Meudon woods and stretched himself out in the
-shade of a tree whose branches hung very low.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-God I am tired, not of walking but of being alone. I am thirsty--not for
-wine, hydromel or beer, but for water, fresh water from that lovely wood
-where the grass and the trees are rose at every dawn, but where no
-spring arrests the progress of the parched traveller. The walk has
-sharpened my appetite; I am hungry, though not for the flesh nor for
-fruit, but for bread, good solid bread, swollen like mammals, bread,
-round as the moon and gilded as she.
-
-
-He arose then. He went deep into the woods and came to the clearing,
-where he was to meet Tristouse Ballerinette. The damsel had not yet
-arrived. Croniamantal longed for a fountain and his imagination, or
-perhaps some sorcerer's talent in himself which he had never suspected,
-caused a limpid water suddenly to flow among the grass.
-
-Croniamantal flung himself down and drank avidly, when he heard the
-voice of a woman singing far off:
-
-
-_Dondidondaine
-'Tis the shepherdess beloved of the king
-Who has gone to the fountain
-Dondidondaine
-In the dewy fields, all blossoming
-To the fountain
-But here comes Croquemitaine
-To the fountain
-And Hickorydock! advance no further._
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Dost thou think already of her who sings? Thou laughest dully in this
-clearing. Dost thou believe that she has been rounded like a round table
-for the equality of men and weeks? Thou knowest well, the days do not
-resemble each other.
-
-About the round table, the good are no longer equal; one has the sun in
-his face, it dazzles him and soon quits him for his neighbor. Another
-has his shadow before him. All are good, and good thou art thyself, but
-they are no more equal than the day and the night.
-
-
-THE VOICE
-
-_Croquemitaine
-Wears the rose and the lilac
-The king rides off--Hello Germaine
---Croquemitaine
-Thou wilt come back again_
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-The voices of women are always ironical. Is the weather always fair?
-Someone is already damned instead of me. It is nice in the deep woods.
-Hearken no longer to the voice of woman! Ask! Ask!
-
-
-THE VOICE
-
---_Hello Germaine
-I come to love between thine arms
---Ah! Sire, our cow is full
---Really Germaine
---Your servant also, I believe._
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-She who sings in order to lure me will be ignorant as I, and dancing
-with lassitudes.
-
-
-THE VOICE
-
-_The cow is full
-When autumn comes she'll calve
-Farewell my king Dondidondaine
-The cow is full
-And my heart empty without thee_
-
-
-Croniamantal stands on the tip of his toes to see if he can perceive
-through the branches the so-beloved who comes.
-
-
-THE VOICE
-
-_Dondidondaine
-But when will come my Croquemitaine
-At the fountain it is very cold
-Dondidondaine
-After the winter I shall be less cold._
-
-In the clearing there appeared a young girl, svelte and brunette. Her
-countenance was sombre and starred with roving eyes like birds of bright
-plumage. Her sparse but short hair left her neck bare; her hair was
-tousled and dark, and by the skipping rope which she carried,
-Croniamantal recognized her to be Tristouse Ballerinette.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-No further, child with bare arms! I shall come to you myself. Someone
-has just hushed under the pines and will be able to overhear us.
-
-
-TRISTOUSE
-
-This one is surely the issue of an egg, like Castor and Pollax. I recall
-how my mother, who was very foolish, used to talk to me about them of
-long evenings. The hunter of serpent's eggs, son of the serpent
-himself,--I am afraid of those old memories.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Have no fear, woman of the naked arms. Stay with me. My lips are filled
-with kisses. Here, here. I lay them on thy brow, on thy hair. I caress
-thy hair with its ancient perfume. I caress thy hairs which intertwine
-like the worms on the bodies of the dead. O death, o death, hairy with
-worms. I have kisses on my lips. Here, here they are, on thy hands, on
-thy neck, on thine eyes, thine eyes. I have lips full of kisses, here,
-here, burning like a fever, sustained to enchant thee, kisses, mad
-kisses, on the ear, the temple, the cheek. Feel my embraces, bend under
-the effort of my arm, be languid, be languid. I have kisses upon my
-lips, here, here, mad ones, upon thine eyes, upon thy neck, upon thy
-brow, upon thy youth, I longed so to love thee, this spring day when
-there are no more blossoms on the branches which prepare themselves to
-bear fruit.
-
-
-TRISTOUSE
-
-Leave me, go away. Those who move each other are happy, but I do not
-love you. You frighten me. However, do not despair, o poet. Listen, this
-is my best advice: Go away!
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Alas! Alas! To leave again, to wander unto the oceanic limits, through
-the brush, the evergreen, in the scum, in the mud, the dust, across the
-forests, the prairies, the plantations, and the very happy gardens.
-
-
-TRISTOUSE
-
-Go away. Go away, far from the antique perfume of my hair, o thou who
-belongest to me.
-
-And Croniamantal went off without turning his head once; he could be
-seen for a long time through the branches, and then his voice could be
-heard growing fainter and fainter as he disappeared from view.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Traveller without a stick, pilgrim without staff and poet without a
-writing pad, I am more powerless than all other men, I own nothing more
-and I know nothing...
-
-And his voice no longer reached Tristouse Ballerinette who was admiring
-her image in the pool.
-
-In another age monks cultivated the forest of Malverne.
-
-
-MONKS
-
-The sun declines slowly, and blessing thee, O Lord; we are going to
-sleep in the monastery so that the dawn may find us in the forest.
-
-
-THE FOREST OF MALVERNE
-
-Every day, every day, flights of anguished birds see their nests crushed
-and their eggs broken when the trees sway with shaking branches.
-
-
-THE BIRDS
-
-It is the happy hour of twilight when the girls and boys come to roll on
-the grass. And all of them have kisses that want to fall like over-ripe
-fruit or like the egg when it is about to be laid. Do you see them
-there, do you see them dance, muse, haunt, chant from dusk to the dawn,
-his pale sister?
-
-
-A RED-HAIRED MONK
-
-(_In the middle of the Cortège_)
-
-I am afraid to live and I should like to die. Convulsions of earth.
-Labor! O lost time...
-
-
-THE BIRDS
-
-_Gay! Gay! the broken eggs
-The ready-made omelette cooked on a downy fire
-Here! Here!
-Take to the right_
-
-_Turn to the left
-Straight ahead
-Behind the fallen oak
-There and everywhere._
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-(_In another age, near the Forest of Malverne and a little before the
-passage of the monks._)
-
-The winds disperse before me, the forests fall away and become a wide
-track with corpses here and there. The travellers meet with too many
-corpses for some time, with garrulous corpses.
-
-
-THE RED-HAIRED MONK
-
-I don't want to work any more, I want to dream and pray.
-
-
-He sleeps, his face turned to the sky, on the road bordered with willows
-of the color of mist.
-
-The night had come with the moonlight. Croniamantal saw the monks bent
-over the nonchalant bodies of their brothers. Then he heard a little
-plaint, a feeble cry that died in a last sigh. And slowly they passed in
-Indian file before Croniamantal, who was hidden behind a clump of
-willows.
-
-
-THE GLORIDE FOREST
-
-I should love to send this man astray amid the spectres that float among
-the bubbles. But he flees toward the times that come, and whither he is
-already arrived.
-
-
-The banging of distant doors changes into the sound of trains in motion.
-A large, grassy track, barred by trunks and fenced with enormous joined
-stones. Life commits suicide. A path that people follow. They never
-tire. Subways where the air is poisoned. Corpses. Voices call
-Croniamantal. He runs, he runs, he descends.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-In the lovely woods, Tristouse promenaded meditating.
-
-
-TRISTOUSE
-
-My heart is sad without thee, Croniamantal. I loved thee without knowing
-it. All is green. All is green above my head and beneath my feet. I have
-lost him whom I loved. I must search this way and that way, here and
-yonder. And among them all I shall surely find someone who will please
-me.
-
-Returned from other times, Croniamantal cried out at sight of Tristouse
-and the fountain again:
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Goddess! who art thou? Where is thine eternal form?
-
-
-TRISTOUSE
-
-Oh, there he is again, handsomer than ever... Listen, o poet. I belong
-to thee, henceforth.
-
-Without looking at Tristouse, Croniamantal bent over the pool.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-I love fountains, they are beautiful symbols of immortality when they
-never run dry. This one has never run dry. And I seek a divinity, but I
-desire her to appear eternal to me. And my fountain has never run dry.
-
-He knelt and prayed to the fountain, while Tristouse, all in tears,
-lamented.
-
-O poet, adorest thou the fountain? O Lord, return my lover to me! Come
-to me! I know such lovely songs.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-The fountain hath its murmur.
-
-
-TRISTOUSE
-
-Very well, then! Sleep with thy cold lover, let her drown thee! But if
-thou livest, thou belongest to me and thou shalt obey me.
-
-She was gone, and throughout the forest of twittering birds, the
-fountain flowed and murmured, while there arose the voice of
-Croniamantal who wept and whose tears mingled with the worshipped flood.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-O fountain! Thou who springest like a staunchless blood. Thou who art
-cold as marble, but living, transparent and fluid. Thou, ever renewed
-and ever the same. Thou who makest living thy verdant banks, I love
-thee. Thou art my unrivalled goddess. Thou quenchest my thirst. Thou
-purifiest me. Thou murmurest to me thine eternal song which rocks me to
-sleep in the evenings.
-
-
-THE FOUNTAIN
-
-At the bottom of my little bed full of an Orient of gems, I hear thee
-with contentment, o poet whom I have enchanted. I recall Avallon where
-we might have lived, thou as the King Fisher and I awaiting thee under
-the apple trees. O islands of apple trees. But I am happy in my precious
-little bed. These amethysts are sweet to my gaze. This lapis-lazuli is
-more blue than a fair sky. This malachite represents to me a prairie.
-Sardonyx, onyx, agate, rock-crystal, you shall scintillate tonight, for
-I will give a feast in honor of my lover. I shall come alone as befits a
-virgin. The power of my lover has already been manifested and his gifts
-are sweet to my soul. He has given me his eyes all in tears, two
-adorable fountains, sweet tributaries of my stream.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-O fecund fountain, thy waters resemble thy hair. Thy flowers are born
-about thee and we shall love each other always.
-
-Nothing could be heard but the song of birds and the rustling of leaves,
-and at times the plashing of a bird playing in the water.
-
-A dandy appeared in the little wood: It was Paponat the Algerian. He
-approached the fountain dancing.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-I know you. You are Paponat who studied in the Orient.
-
-
-PAPONAT
-
-Himself. O poet of the Occident, I come to visit you. I have learned of
-your enchantment, but I hear that it is not yet too late to converse
-with you. How humid it is here! It is not at all surprising that your
-voice is harsh, and you will certainly need a medicament to clear it. I
-approached you dancing. Is there no way of saving you from the situation
-in which you have placed yourself.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Bah! But tell me who taught you to dance.
-
-
-PAPONAT
-
-The angels themselves were my dancing masters.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-The good or the bad angels? But no matter. I have had enough of all the
-dances, save one which the Greeks call _kordax._
-
-
-PAPONAT
-
-You are gay, Croniamantal, we shall be able to amuse ourselves. I am
-glad I came here. I love gaiety. I am happy!
-
-And Paponat, his bright eyes profoundly whirling, rubbed his hands
-gleefully.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-You look like me!
-
-
-PAPONAT
-
-Not much. I am happy to live, while you die beside the fountain.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-But the happiness which you proclaim, do you not forget it? and forget
-mine? You resemble me! The happy man rubs his hands. Smell them. What do
-they smell like?
-
-
-PAPONAT
-
-The odour of death.
-
-
-CRONIAMANTAL
-
-Ha! ha! ha! The happy man has the same odour as death! Rub your hands.
-What difference between the happy man and the corpse! I am also happy,
-although I don't want to rub my hands. Be happy, rub your hands. Be
-happy! again! Now do you know it, the odour of happiness?
-
-
-PAPONAT
-
-Farewell. If you make no case for the living, there is no way of talking
-to you.
-
-
-And as Paponat disappeared into the night where glittered the
-innumerable eyes of the celestial animals of impalpable flesh,
-Croniamantal rose suddenly thinking to himself: "Well--enough of the
-beauties of Nature and of the thoughts she evokes. I know enough about
-that for a long time; we had better return to Paris and try to find that
-exquisite little Tristouse who loves me madly."
-
-
-
-
-XIII. MODES
-
-
-Paponat who came back that night from the Meudon woods where he had gone
-in search of adventure arrived just in time to take the last boat. He
-had the good luck to run into Tristouse Ballerinette there.
-
-"How are you, young lady?" he asked. "I just saw your lover,
-Croniamantal, in the woods. He is on the verge of going mad."
-
-"My lover?" said Tristouse. "He is not my lover."
-
-"He is said to be. At least they have been saying he is, in our literary
-and artistic circles, ever since yesterday."
-
-"They can say whatever they want," said Tristouse firmly. "Anyway I
-shall have nothing to be ashamed about in such a lover. Is he not
-handsome and has he not a great talent?"
-
-"You are right. But my, what a pretty hat you have, and what a pretty
-dress! I am very much interested in the fashions."
-
-"You are always very elegant, Mr. Paponat. Give me the address of your
-tailor and I shall tell Croniamantal about it."
-
-"Quite useless, he would not use it," said Paponat laughing. "But tell
-me now, what are the women wearing this year? I have just come from
-Italy and I am not in touch with things. Please tell me all about it."
-
-"This year," began Tristouse, "the modes are very bizarre and familiar,
-simple and yet full of fantasy. All material belonging to the different
-processes of Nature may now enter into the composition of a woman's
-costume. I have seen a robe made of cork. It was certainly as good as
-the charming evening gowns of towel which created such a rage at
-premieres. A great couturier is thinking of launching tailor-made
-costumes of the backs of old books, bound in calf. Charming! All
-literary women will want to wear it, and one can approach them and
-whisper into their ears under the guise of reading the titles of the
-books. Fish-skeletons are also worn much with hats. You may see
-delightful young girls, very often, wearing cloaks à la Saint-Jacques
-de Compostelle; their costume, so it is said, is starred with Saint
-Jacques shells. Porcelain, stone work and china have suddenly taken an
-important place in the sartorial art. These materials are worn in belts,
-on hat-pins, etc.; I have had the good luck to see an adorable reticule
-all made of the glass eyes that oculists use. Feathers are used not only
-to decorate hats with, but shoes, gloves, and next year they will even
-be used with umbrellas. Shoes are being made of Venetian glass and hats
-out of Bohemian crystal. Not to mention oil-painted gowns, highly
-colored woolens, and robes bizarrely spotted with ink. In the Spring
-many will wear dresses made of puffed gold leaf, with pleasant shapes,
-giving lightness and distinction. Our aviatrices will wear nothing else.
-For the races there will be the hat made of toy balloons, about twenty
-at a time being used, giving a luxuriant effect, and very diverting
-explosions from time to time. The mussel-shell will be worn on slippers.
-And note that they are beginning to dress with living animals. I met a
-woman who wore on her hat at least twenty birds; canaries, goldfinches,
-robins, held by a string tied to their feet, all singing at the top of
-their voices and flapping their wings. The head-dress of an
-ambassadress, ever since the last Neuilly fair is made up of a coil of
-about thirty snakes. 'For whom are those snakes that hiss overhead?'
-asked the little Romanian attaché with his Dacian accent, who was
-supposed to be quite a ladies' man. I forgot to tell you that last
-Wednesday I saw a lady on the boulevards with a ruff having little
-mirrors laid together and pasted to the material. In the sunlight the
-effect was sumptuous. One might have thought it a gold mine on a
-promenade. Later it began to rain and the lady resembled a silver mine.
-Nutshells make pretty buttons, especially if they are interspersed with
-filberts. A robe embroidered with coffee grains, cloves, cloves of
-garlic, onions, and bunches of raisins, is proper to wear when visiting.
-Fashion is becoming practical and no longer spurns any object, but
-ennobles all. It does for these things what romanticists do with words."
-
-"Thank you," said Paponat, "you have given me a great deal of
-information and told it charmingly."
-
-"You are too kind," replied Tristouse.
-
-
-
-
-XIV. ENCOUNTERS
-
-
-Six months passed. For the last five Tristouse Ballerinette had been the
-mistress of Croniamantal, whom she loved passionately for eight days. In
-exchange for this love, the lyrical youth had rendered her glorious and
-immortal forever by celebrating her in marvellous poems.
-
-"I was unknown," she mused, "and now he has made me illustrious among
-all the living.
-
-"I was thought ugly because of my thinness, my large mouth, my bad
-teeth, my irregular features, my crooked nose. Now I am beautiful and
-all men tell me so. They mocked at my clumsy and jerky gait, at my sharp
-elbows which, when I walked, moved like the feet of geese.
-
-"What miracles are born of the love of a poet! But how heavily a poet's
-love weighs! What sorrows accompany it, what silences to endure! Now
-that the miracle has been accomplished, I am beautiful and renowned.
-Croniamantal is ugly, he has wasted his property in a short time; he is
-poor, lacking in elegance, no longer gay; the slightest of his gestures
-make him a hundred enemies.
-
-"I love him no longer. I need him no longer, my admirers are enough for
-me. I shall rid me of him gradually. But that is going to be very
-annoying. Either I must go away, or he must disappear, so that he
-doesn't bother me, and so that he isn't able to reproach me."
-
-And after eight days, Tristouse became the mistress of Paponat, although
-still seeing Croniamantal, whom she treated more and more coldly. The
-less she came to see him, the more desperately he cared for her. When
-she did not come at all, he spent hours in front of the house she lived
-in in the hope of seeing her come out, and if by chance she did, he
-would escape like a thief, fearing that she might accuse him of spying
-on her.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-It was by running around after Tristouse Bailerinette that Croniamantal
-continued his literary education.
-
-One day as he was wandering about Paris, he suddenly found himself at
-the Seine. He crossed a bridge and walked for some time, when suddenly
-perceiving before him M. François Coppée, Croniamantal regretted that
-this passerby was dead. But there is nothing against talking with the
-dead, and the encounter passed off very pleasantly.
-
-"Come," thought Croniamantal, "to a passerby he would appear to be
-nothing but a passerby, and the very author of the _Passerby._[11] He is
-a clever and spiritual rhymester, with some feeling for reality. Let us
-speak to him about rhyme."
-
-The poet of the _Passerby_ was smoking a dark cigarette. He was dressed
-in black, his visage black; he stood bizarrely on a high stone, and
-Croniamantal saw quite easily by his pensive air that he was composing
-verses. He came alongside of him and after having greeted him, said
-brusquely:
-
-"Dear master, how sombre you seem."
-
-He replied courteously.
-
-"It is because my statue is of bronze. That exposes me constantly to
-scorn. Thus the other day."
-
-
-_Passing by one day the negro Sam MacVea
-Seeing I was the blacker, sat down and muttered:
-'Yea.'_
-
-
-"See how adroit those lines are. Did you notice how well the couplet I
-just recited for you rhymes for the eye."
-
-"Indeed," said Croniamantal, "for it is pronounced _Sam MacVee_, like
-_Shakespeer._"
-
-"Well here is something that comes off better," continued the statue:
-
-
-_Passing by one day the negro Sam MacVea
-Christened this tablet with a flask of eau-de-vie._
-
-
-"There is a bit of refinement that ought to appeal to you. It is the
-_rime riche_, the perfect rhyme to delight the ear."
-
-"You certainly enlighten me on the rhyme," said Croniamantal. "I am very
-happy, dear master, to have met you in passing by."
-
-"It is my first success," replied the metallic poet. "But I have just
-composed a little poem bearing the same title: it is about a gentleman
-who passes by. _The Passerby_, across the corridor of a railroad coach;
-he perceives a charming lady with whom, instead of going only to
-Brussels, he stops at the Dutch frontier:
-
-
-_They passed at least eight days at Rosendael
-He tasted the ideal, she the real
-In all things, it chanced, their ways differed,
-It was from veritable Love they suffered._
-
-
-"I call your attention to the last two lines, which through rhyming
-somewhat imperfectly contain a subtle dissonance, which is further
-emphasized by the fact of their being morbidly feminine rhymes."
-
-"Dear master," exclaimed Croniamantal, "speak to me of vers libre."
-
-"Long live liberty!" cried the bronze statue.
-
-And having saluted him, Croniamantal went his way looking for
-Tristouse.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-On another day Croniamantal was walking along the boulevards. Tristouse
-had missed an appointment with him, and he hoped to find her in a tea
-room where she sometimes went with her friends. He turned the corner of
-the rue Le Peletier, when a gentleman, dressed in a pearl-grey cape,
-accosted him, saying:
-
-"Sir, I am going to reform literature. I have found a superb subject: it
-is about the sensations of a well bred young bachelor who permits an
-improper sound to escape in an assemblage of ladies and young people of
-good family."
-
-Croniamantal was properly amazed at the novelty of the subject, but
-understood at once how much it would take to test the sensibilities of
-the author.
-
-Croniamantal fled... A lady stepped on his feet. She was also an
-authoress, and did not neglect to inform him that this incident would
-furnish him with a subject of fresh and delicate character.
-
-Croniamantal took to his heels and reached the Pont des Saint Pères
-where three people were disputing over the subject of a novel and begged
-him to decide who was right; it was about the case of an officer.
-
-"Fine subject," cried Croniamantal.
-
-"Listen," said his neighbor, a bearded man, "I claim that the subject is
-too new and too unusual for the present day public."
-
-And the third man explained that it was about an officer of a restaurant
-company, the man who held office, who presided over the soiled dishes...
-
-Croniamantal did not reply to them but made off to visit an old cook who
-wrote verse, and at whose place he hoped to find Tristouse at tea time.
-Tristouse was not there, but Croniamantal was hugely entertained by the
-mistress of the house who declaimed some poems to him.
-
-It was a poetry that was full of profundity, and in which words had a
-new meaning entirely. Thus _archipel_ was only used in the sense of
-_papier buvard._[12]
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-Some time later, the rich Paponat, proud of being the lover of the
-renowned Tristouse, and desirous of not losing her, for she did him
-honor, decided to take his mistress for a trip through Central Europe.
-
-"Fine," said Tristouse, "but we will not travel as lovers, for even
-though you are nice to me, I don't love you enough, or at least I force
-myself to the point of not loving you. We shall travel as two friends,
-and I shall dress up as a young man; my hair is rather short, and I have
-often been told that I have the air of a handsome young man."
-
-"Very well," said Paponat, "and since we both are in need of repose we
-shall make our retreat in Moravia in a convent of Brünn where my uncle,
-the prior of Crepontois, retired after the expulsion of the monks. It is
-one of the richest and finest convents in the world. I shall present you
-as one of my friends, and have no fear, we shall be taken for lovers
-just the same."
-
-"That suits me," said Tristouse, "for I love to pass for that which I am
-not. We leave tomorrow."
-
-
-
-
-XV. VOYAGE
-
-
-Croniamantal went perfectly mad upon hearing of the departure of
-Tristouse. But at this time he began to become famous, and as his
-poetical repute waxed so did his vogue as a dramatist.
-
-The theatres played his plays and the crowd applauded his name, but at
-the same moment the enemies of poets and poetry were increasing in
-number and growing in audacious hatred.
-
-He only became more and more sorrowful, his soul shrinking within his
-enfeebled body.
-
-When he learned of the departure of Tristouse he did not protest, but
-simply asked the concierge if she knew the destination of the voyage.
-
-"All that I know," said the woman, "is that she has gone to Central
-Europe."
-
-"Very well," said Croniamantal, and returning to his quarters he
-gathered up the several thousand francs he still possessed and took the
-train for Germany at the Gare du Nord.
-
-
-On the following day, Christmas eve, the train was engulfed in the
-enormous terminal of Cologne. Croniamantal, carrying a little valise,
-descended last from his third-class coach.
-
-On the platform of the opposite track the red cap of the station master,
-the spiked helmets of policemen, and the silk hats of high functionaries
-indicated that an important person was awaited by the next train. And to
-be sure Croniamantal heard a little old man, with quick gestures,
-explaining to his fat wife who gaped with astonishment at the spiked
-helmets, the red cap, and the silk hats:
-
-"Krupp... Essen... No orders... Italy."
-
-Croniamantal followed the crowd of passengers who had come in on his
-train. He walked behind two girls, who must have been pigeon-toed, so
-much did their gait resemble that of the goose. They kept their hands
-concealed under short cloaks; the head of the first one was covered with
-a small black hat, from which there dangled a bouquet of blue roses, as
-well as some straight, black feathers, with the stem trimmed except at
-the tip, which trembled as if with cold. The hat of the other girl was
-of a soft, almost brilliant felt, an enormous knot of satinette
-shrouding her with ridicule. They were probably two servant maids out of
-a job, for they were pounced upon at the exit by a group of strait-laced
-and ugly ladies wearing the ribbon of the Catholic Society for the
-Protection of Young Girls. The ladies of the Protestant Society for the
-same purpose stood a little further off. Croniamantal following behind a
-stout man with a short, hard and russet beard, dressed in green,
-descended the stairway that led to the vestibule of the station.
-
-Outside he saluted the Dome, solitary in the midst of the irregular
-square which it filled with its bulk. The station heaped its modern mass
-close to the huge cathedral. Hotels spread their signs in hybrid
-languages and appeared to hold their respectful distance from the gothic
-colossus. Croniamantal sniffed the odour of the town for a long time. He
-seemed to be disappointed.
-
-"She is not here," he said to himself, "my nose would smell her, my
-nerves would vibrate, my eyes would see her."
-
-He crossed the town, passed the fortifications on foot as if driven by
-un unknown force along the main road, downstream, on the right bank of
-the Rhine. And in truth, Tristouse and Paponat had arrived the night
-before in Cologne, taken an automobile and continued their journey; they
-had taken the right bank of the Rhine in the direction of Coblenz, and
-Croniamantal was following their trail.
-
-Christmas eve came. An old prophet of a rabbi from Dollendorf, just as
-he was venturing upon the bridge which links Bonn with Buel, was
-repulsed by a violent gust of wind. The snow fell in a great rage. The
-sound of the gale drowned all the Christmas songs, but the thousand
-lights of the trees glittered in each house.
-
-The old Jew swore:
-
-"_Kreuzdonnerwetter..._ I shall never get to _Haenchen..._ Winter, my
-old friend, thou canst avail nothing against my old and joyous carcass,
-let me cross without hindrance this old Rhine which is as drunken as
-thirty-six drunkards. As to myself, I bend my steps toward the noble
-tavern frequented by the Borussians only to tipple in company with those
-white bonnets and at their cost, like a good Christian, although I am a
-Jew."
-
-The sound of the gale doubled in fury, strange voices made themselves
-heard. The old rabbi shivered and raised his head crying:
-
-"Donnerkeil! Ui jeh, ch, ch, ch. Eh! Say, up there, you ought to go
-about your business instead of making life miserable for poor happy
-devils whose fate sends them abroad on such nights... Eh! mothers, are
-you no longer under the domination of Solomon? ...Ohey! Ohey! Tseilom
-Kop! Meicabl! Farwaschen Ponim! Beheime! You want to prevent me from
-drinking the excellent Moselle wines with the students of Borussia who
-are only too happy to toast with me because of my science and my
-inimitable lyricism, not to mention all my talents for sorcery and
-prophecy.
-
-"Accursed spirits! know ye that I might have drunk also Rhine wines, not
-to mention the wines of France. Nor should I have neglected to polish
-off some champagne in your honor, my old friends!... At midnight, the
-hour when the _Christkindchen_ is made, I should have rolled under the
-table and have slept at least during the brawling... But you unchain the
-winds, you make an infernal uproar during this saintly night which
-should have been peaceful... as to being calm, you seem to be twisting
-his pigtail up there, sweet ladies... To amuse Solomon, no doubt...
-Lilith! Naama! Aguereth! Mahala! Ah! Solomon, for thy pleasure they are
-going to kill all the poets on this earth.
-
-"Ah Solomon! Solomon! jovial king whose entertainers are the four
-nocturnal spectres moving from the Orient to the North, thou desirest my
-death, for I am also a poet like all the Jewish prophets and a prophet
-like all the poets.
-
-"Farewell drunkenness for tonight... Old Rhine, I must turn my back to
-thee. I am going back to prepare me for death and dictate my last and
-most lyrical prophecies..."
-
-A horrible crash, like a stroke of thunder, burst just then. The old
-prophet pressed his lips together, lowering his head and looking down;
-then he bent down and held his ear quite close to the ground. When he
-straightened up he murmured:
-
-"The earth herself can no longer suffer the unbearable contact with
-poets."
-
-Then he took his way across the streets of Buel, turning his back on the
-Rhine. When the rabbi had traversed the railroad track he found himself
-before a crossing and as he hesitated not knowing which to take, he
-lifted his head again by chance. He saw before him a young man with a
-valise coming from Bonn; the old rabbi did not recognize the person and
-cried to him:
-
-"Are you mad to go out in such weather, sir?"
-
-"I am hurrying to rejoin someone whom I have lost and whose track I am
-following," replied the stranger.
-
-"What is your profession," cried the Jew.
-
-"I am a poet."
-
-The prophet stamped with his foot and as the young man disappeared he
-cursed him horribly because of the pity he felt, then lowering his head
-he went to look at the signposts along the road. Wheezing, he took the
-road straight ahead of him.
-
-"Happily the wind is fallen... at least one can walk... I had thought at
-first that he was coming to kill me. But, no, he will probably die even
-before me, this poet who is not even a Jew. Well, let us go quick and
-merrily to prepare us a glorious death."
-
-The old rabbi walked faster; with his long cloak he gave the effect of a
-returned spirit, and some children who were returning from Putzchen
-after the Christmas Tree party passed him crying with terror, and for a
-long time they threw stones in the direction in which he had
-disappeared.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-Croniamantal covered in this way part of Germany and the Austrian
-Empire; the force that propelled him drew him across Thuringia, Saxony,
-Bohemia, Moravia, up to Brünn, where he decided to stop.
-
-On the very night of his arrival, he scoured the town. Along the streets
-surrounding the old palace enormous Swiss guards in breeches and cocked
-hats, were standing before the doors. They leaned on long canes with
-crystal heads. Their gold buttons gleamed like the eyes of cats.
-Croniamantal lost his way; he wandered about for some time in poor
-streets where shadows passed vividly across drawn blinds. Officers in
-long blue coats passed by. Croniamantal turned to glance at them, then
-he walked outside of the town with night coming on, to look at the
-sombre mass of the Spielberg. While he was looking at the old state
-prison, he heard the sound of feet dose by and then saw three monks pass
-gesticulating and talking loudly. Croniamantal ran after them and asked
-them directions.
-
-"You are French," they said; "come with us."
-
-Croniamantal examined them and noticed that they wore above their frocks
-little beige cloaks that were very elegant. Each one carried a light
-cane and wore a melon-shaped hat. On the way one of the monks said to
-Croniamantal:
-
-"You have wandered far from your hotel, we will show you the way if you
-wish. But if you care to, you may certainly come to the convent with us:
-you will be well received because you are a foreigner and you can pass
-the night there."
-
-Croniamantal accepted joyfully, saying:
-
-"I shall be very glad to come, for aren't you brothers to me, who am a
-poet."
-
-They began to laugh. The oldest, who wore a gold-framed lorgnon and
-whose belly puffed out of his fashionable waistcoat, raised his arms and
-cried:
-
-"A poet! Is it possible!"
-
-And the two others, who were thinner, choked with laughter, bending down
-and holding their bellies as if they had the colic.
-
-"Let us be serious," said the monk with the lorgnon, "we are going to
-pass through a street inhabited by the Jews."
-
-In the streets, at every step, old women standing like pines in a
-forest, called them, making signals.
-
-"Let us flee from this stench," said the fat monk, who was a Czech and
-who was called Father Karel by his companions.
-
-Croniamantal and the monks stopped at last before a great convent door.
-At the sound of the bell the porter came to let them in. The two thin
-monks said good-bye to Croniamantal, who remained alone with Father
-Karel in a parlor that was richly furnished.
-
-"My child," said Father Karel, "you are in a unique convent. The monks
-who inhabit it are all very proper people. We have old archdukes, and
-even former architects, soldiers, scientists, poets, inventors, a few
-monks expelled from France, and some lay guests of good breeding. All of
-them are saints. I, myself, such as you see me, with my lorgnon and my
-pot-belly, am a saint. I shall show you your room, where you may stay
-until nine o'clock; then you will hear the bell ring and I shall come to
-look for you."
-
-Father Karel guided Croniamantal through long corridors. Then they went
-up a stairway of white marble and on the second floor, Father Karel
-opened a door and said:
-
-"Your room."
-
-He showed him the electric button and left.
-
-The room was round, the bed and the chairs were round; on the chimney
-piece a skull looked like an old cheese.
-
-Croniamantal stood by the window, under which spread the teeming
-darkness of a large monastery garden, from which there seemed to rise
-laughter, sighs, cries of joy, as if a thousand couples were embracing
-each other. Then a woman's voice in the garden sang a song which
-Croniamantal had heard before:
-
-
-_...Croquemitaine
-Wears the rose and the lilac
-The King is a-coming
---Hello Germaine
---Croquemitaine
-Wilt thou come back again?_
-
-
-And Croniamantal began to sing the rest:
-
-
---_Hello Germaine
-I come to love among thine arms._
-
-
-Then he heard the voice of Tristouse continuing the couplet.
-
-And voices of men here and there, sang airs that were strange or grave,
-while the cracked voice of an old man stuttered:
-
-
-_Vexilla regis prodeunt..._
-
-
-At this moment Father Karel entered the room, as a bell rang full
-force.
-
-"Well, my boy! Listening to the sounds of our fine garden? It is full of
-memories, this earthly paradise. Tychobrahé made love there with a
-pretty Jewess who said to him all the time: Chazer,--which means pig in
-the jargon.[13] I myself, have seen such and such an archduke play with
-a pretty boy whose behind was shaped like a heart. Let us come to
-dinner."
-
-They arrived in a vast refectory still empty, and the poet examined at
-his leisure the frescoes which covered the wall.
-
-One was of Noah, dead-drunk on a couch. His son Cham was uncovering his
-nakedness, that is to say the root of a vine naively and prettily
-painted whose branches served as a genealogical tree, or something of
-the sort, for they had painted the names of all the abbés in red
-letters on all the leaves.
-
-The marriage of Cana showed a Mannekenpis pissing wine into the casks
-while the spouse, at least eight months with child, offered her belly to
-someone who was writing on it in charcoal: TOKAI.
-
-And then again there was a fresco of the soldiers of Gideon relieving
-themselves of the awful colic caused by the water they had drunk.
-
-The long table that covered the middle of the hall was spread with a
-rare sumptuousness. The glasses and decanters were of Bohemian
-cut-glass, and of the finest red crystal. The superb silver pieces
-glittered on the whiteness of the cloth strewn with violets.
-
-The monks arrived one by one, their hoods on their heads, arms folded on
-their breasts. On entering they greeted Croniamantal and took their
-accustomed places. As they came in, Father Karel informed Croniamantal
-of their name and what country they came from. The table was soon filled
-and Croniamantal counted fifty-six of them. The Abbé, an Italian with
-narrow eyes, said grace and the repast began, but Croniamantal anxiously
-awaited the arrival of Tristouse.
-
-A bouillon was served in which there swam little brains of birds and
-sweet peas...
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-"Our two French guests have just left," said a French monk who had been
-the prior of Crepentois. "I could not hold them here: the companion of
-my nephew was just singing in the garden in his pretty soprano voice. He
-almost fainted at hearing some one in the convent sing the close of the
-song. They left just now and took the train, for their automobile was
-not ready. We shall send it on to them by rail. They did not impart to
-me the destination of their journey, but I think that the pious children
-are bound for Marseilles. At least, I think I heard them talk of that
-town."
-
-Croniamantal, pale as a sheet, rose, then:
-
-"Excuse me, good fathers," he said, "but it was wrong of me to accept
-your hospitality. I must go away, do not ask me the reason. But I shall
-keep a fond memory of the simplicity, the gaiety, the liberty that reign
-here. All that is dear to me to the highest degree, why, why, alas, can
-I not profit of it?"
-
-
-
-
-XVI. PERSECUTION
-
-
-At this time prizes for poetry were being awarded every day. Thousands
-of societies had been founded for this purpose and their members lived
-on the fat of the land, while making upon fixed dates large benefices to
-poets. But the 26th of January was the day upon which the largest
-associations, companies, boards of directors, academies, committees,
-juries, etc., of the whole world bestowed their awards. Upon this day
-8,019 prizes for poetry were distributed, the total of which aggregated
-50,005,225 francs.[14] On the other hand, since the taste for poetry had
-never spread among any class of the population of any country, public
-opinion had risen powerfully against the poets who were called
-parasites, lazy, useless, and so forth. The 26th of January of this year
-passed without incident, but on the following day the great newspaper,
-La Voix, published at Adelaide (Australia) in the French language,
-contained an article by the distinguished agricultural chemist Horace
-Tograth (a German born at Leipzig), whose discoveries and inventions had
-frequently seemed to border on the miraculous. The article, entitled
-_The Laurel_, contained a sort of chronology of the culture of the
-laurel in Judea, in Greece, in Italy, in Africa and in Provence. The
-author gave counsel to those who had laurel trees in their gardens,
-indicating the multiple usage of the laurel, as a food, in art, in
-poetry, and its rôle as a symbol of poetic glory. He then began to talk
-of mythology, making allusions to Apollo and the fable of Daphné.
-Finally, Horace Tograth changed his tone brusquely and concluded his
-article as follows:
-
-"And furthermore, I say candidly, this useless tree is still too common,
-and we have less glorious symbolisms to which people attribute the
-famous savour of the laurel. The laurel holds too large a place upon our
-overpopulated earth, the laurels are unworthy of living. Each one of
-them takes the place of two in the sun. Let them be chopped down, and
-let their leaves be feared as a poison. Hitherto symbols of poetry and
-literary science, they are nothing more today than that death-glory
-which is to glory as death is to life, and as the hand of glory is to
-the key.
-
-"True glory has abandoned poetry for science, philosophy, acrobatics,
-philanthropy, sociology, etc. ...Poets are good for nothing more
-nowadays than to receive money which they do not earn, since they
-scarcely ever work and most of them (except for the minstrels) have no
-talent and no excuse whatsoever. As to those who have some gifts, they
-are even more obnoxious, for if they receive nothing they make more
-noise than a regiment and din our ears with their being persecuted. None
-of these people have any _raison d'être._ The prizes which are awarded
-them are stolen from workers, inventors, scientists, philosophers,
-acrobats, philanthropists, sociologists, and so forth. The poets must
-disappear. Lycurgus would have banished them from the Republic, we too
-must banish them. Otherwise, the poets, lazy fiefs, will become our
-princes and while doing nothing, live off our work, oppressing us, and
-mocking us. In short, we must rid ourselves immediately of the poets'
-tyranny.
-
-"If the republics and the kings, if the nations do not take care, the
-race of poets, too privileged, will increase in such proportions and so
-rapidly that in a short time no one will want to work, invent, teach, do
-dangerous feats, heal the sick and improve the lot of unfortunate men."
-
-An enormous stir greeted this article. It was telegraphed or telephoned
-everywhere, all the newspapers reproduced it. A few literary journals
-followed their quotations from Tograth's article with mocking
-reflections as to the scientist; there were doubts as to his mental
-state. They laughed at the terror which he manifested over the lyric
-laurel. However, the journals of commerce and information made great ado
-about his warnings. They even said that the article in _La Voix_ was a
-work of genius.
-
-The article by Horace Tograth had been a singular pretext, admirably
-fitted to fan the blaze of hatred for poetry. It made its appeal through
-the traditional sense of the supernatural, whose memory lies in all well
-born men, and to the instinct for preservation which all beings feel.
-That was why nearly all Tograth's readers were thunderstruck, aghast,
-and wanted to lose no occasion to obliterate poets, who, because of the
-great numbers of prizes they received, were the subjects of the jealousy
-of all classes of the population. The majority of the newspapers
-advocated that the government take measures leading to the prohibition
-of all poetry prizes.
-
-In the evening, in a later edition of _La Voix_, the agricultural
-chemist, Horace Tograth, published a new article, which, like the other,
-telephoned or telegraphed everywhere, carried popular emotion to a
-climax in the press, among the public and the governments. The scientist
-concluded as follows:
-
-"World, choose between thy life and poetry; if serious measures are not
-taken, civilization is done for. Thou must not hesitate. From tomorrow
-on begins the new era. Poetry will exist no longer, the lyres too heavy
-for old inspirations will be broken. The poets will be massacred."
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-During the night, life went on just as usual in all the cities of the
-globe. The article, telegraphed everywhere, had been published in the
-special editions of the local newspapers and snatched up by the hungry
-public. The people all sided with Tograth. Ring-leaders descended into
-the streets and, mingling with the aroused mobs, excited them further.
-But most governments held sittings that very night and passed
-legislation which provoked an indescribable enthusiasm. France, Italy,
-Spain and Portugal decreed that all poets established on their territory
-should be imprisoned at once pending the determination of their lot.
-
-Foreign poets who were absent and sought to re-enter the country risked
-being condemned to death. It was cabled that the United States of
-America had decided to electrocute any man who avowed his profession to
-be that of poetry.
-
-It was telegraphed that in Germany also a decree had been passed
-ordering all poets in verse or prose found on the imperial territory to
-be incarcerated until further orders. In fact, all of the States on
-earth, even those who possessed nothing but meager little bards lacking
-in all lyricism took measures against the very name of poetry. Only
-England and Russia were exceptions. The laws went into effect at once.
-All poets who were found on French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese
-territory were arrested on the following day, while the literary
-magazines appeared all garbed in black, lamenting the new terror.
-Dispatches toward noon told how Aristenetius Southwest, the great Negro
-poet of Haiti, had been cut into pieces and devoured by an infuriated
-populace of negroes and mulattoes. At Cologne, the Kaiserglocke had
-sounded all night and in the morning Herr Professor Doktor Stimmung,
-author of a medieval epic in forty-eight cantos, having gone out to take
-the train for Hanover, was set upon by a troop of fanatics who beat him
-with sticks, crying: "Death to the poet!"
-
-He took refuge in the cathedral and remained locked in there with a few
-beadles, by the excited population of Drikkes, Hanses, and Marizibills.
-These last particularly, were beside themselves with rage, invoking the
-Virgin, Saint Ursula and the Three Royal Magi in _platdeutsch._ Their
-paternosters and pious oaths were interspersed with admirably vile
-insults to the professor-poet, who owed his reputation chiefly to the
-unisexuality of his morals. His head to the ground, he was nearly dying
-of fear under the big wooden statue of Saint Christopher. He heard the
-sounds of masons walling up all the gates of the cathedral and resigned
-himself to die of hunger.
-
-Toward two o'clock it was telegraphed that a sexton poet of Naples had
-seen the blood of Saint January boil up in the holy phial. The sacristan
-had gone out to proclaim the miracle and had hastened to the harbor
-front to play buck-buck. He won all that he desired at this game and a
-knife thrust in the breast to the bargain.
-
-Telegrams everywhere announced the arrests of poets, one after another,
-and the electrocution of the American poets was made known early in the
-afternoon.
-
-In Paris, several young poets of the left bank, who had been spared on
-account of their lack of notoriety, organized a demonstration extending
-from the _Closerie des Lilas_ to the _Conciergerie_, where the "prince
-of poets" was imprisoned.[15]
-
-Troops arrived to disperse the demonstrators. The cavalry charged. The
-poets drew their firearms and defended themselves but the people rushed
-in and took a hand in the mêlée. The poets were strangled and so was
-everyone else who came to their defense.
-
-Thus began the great persecution which swept rapidly throughout the
-entire world. In America, after the electrocution of the famous poets,
-they lynched all the negro minstrels and even many persons who had never
-in their lives written a rhyme; then they fell upon the whites of
-literary Bohemia. It was learned that Tograth, after having personally
-directed the persecution in Australia, had embarked at Melbourne.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration 05]
-
-
-
-
-XVII. ASSASSINATION
-
-
-Like Orpheus, all the poets felt violent death staring them in the face.
-Everywhere, publishers had been pillaged and collections of verse burnt.
-The admiration of all went out to Horace Tograth who, from far off
-Adelaide (Australia), had succeeded in unloosing this storm which seemed
-destined to destroy poetry forever. This man's knowledge, they said,
-bordered on the miraculous. He could drive away clouds or bring on rain
-anywhere he pleased. Women, once they had seen him, were ready to do his
-bidding. For the rest, he did not disdain either feminine or masculine
-virginities. As soon as Tograth had seen what enthusiasms he had evoked
-in the whole world, he announced that he would visit the principal
-cities of the globe, after Australia had been rid of its erotic and
-elegiac poets. And indeed some time later uprisings of the population
-were heard of in Tokyo, Pekin, Yakutsk, Calcutta, Buenos Ayres, San
-Francisco, Chicago, upon the appearance of the terrible German, Tograth.
-Wherever he went, he left an unearthly impression on account of his
-"miracles" (which he called scientific), and his extraordinary healings,
-all of which lifted his repute as a scientist and a thaumaturgist to
-sublime heights.
-
-
-On May 30, Tograth debarked at Marseilles. The people were massed along
-the quays; Tograth landed from the steamer in a launch. No sooner was he
-recognized than cries, shouts, toasts, from innumerable gullets mingled
-with the sound of the wind, the waves and the sirens of the vessels.
-Tograth, tall and thin, was standing up in the launch. As it approached
-the land, the features of the hero could be distinguished more and more
-clearly. His face was smooth-shaven and blue, his mouth almost lipless,
-disfigured by an ugly cut; he had a receding chin which gave him the
-appearance, one might have said, of a shark. His brow rose straight up,
-very high and very large. Tograth was dressed in a pasty white costume,
-his shoes also being white and high-heeled. He wore no hat. As soon as
-he placed his foot upon the soil of Marseilles the furor of the crowd
-rose to such heights that when the quays were cleared three hundred
-people were found dead, strangled, trampled, crushed. Several men seized
-the hero and raised him upon their shoulders while they sang and
-shouted, and women threw flowers at him all the way to the hotel where a
-suite had been prepared for him and managers, interpreters and bell-boys
-were waiting to greet him.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-On the same morning, Croniamantal coming from Brünn had arrived at
-Marseilles to look for Tristouse who had been there since the evening
-before with Paponat. All three mingled in the crowd which acclaimed
-Tograth before the hotel where he was to stop.
-
-"Happy tumult," said Tristouse, "You are not a poet, Paponat, you have
-learned things which are worth infinitely more than poetry. Is it not
-true, Paponat, that you are in no way a poet?"
-
-"Indeed, my dear," replied Paponat, "I have rhymed at times in order to
-amuse myself, but I am not a poet, I am an excellent business man and no
-one knows better than I how to manage an estate."
-
-"Tonight you must mail a letter to _La Voix_ of Adelaide; you must tell
-them all that, and so you will be safe."
-
-"I shall not fail to do that," said Paponat. "Did you ever hear of such
-a thing, a poet! That goes for Croniamantal."
-
-"I hope to God," said Tristouse, "that they will massacre him in Brünn
-where he expects to find us."
-
-"But there he is right now," whispered Paponat. "He is in the crowd. He
-is hiding himself and hasn't seen us."
-
-"I wish they would hurry up and massacre him," sighed Tristouse. "I have
-an idea that that will happen soon."
-
-"Look," exclaimed Paponat, "here comes the hero."
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-The cortège which accompanied Tograth arrived at the hotel, and he was
-permitted to descend from their shoulders. Tograth turned to the crowd
-and addressed them:
-
-"Citizens of Marseilles, in thanking you I could employ, if I wished,
-compliments that are fatter than your world-renowned sardines. I could,
-if I wished, make a long speech. But words will never quite encompass
-the magnificence of the reception which you have accorded me. I know
-that there are maladies in your midst that I might heal not only with my
-knowledge but with that which scientists have accumulated for myriads of
-years. Bring forth the sick, and I shall heal them."
-
-A man whose cranium was as bald as that of an inhabitant of Mycona
-cried:
-
-"Tograth! god-like mortal, all puissant _savantissimo!_ Give me a
-luxuriant mane of hair."
-
-Tograth smiled and asked that the man approach him: then he touched the
-denuded head, saying:
-
-"Thy sterile pate shall be covered with an abundant vegetation, but
-remember always this favor by hating the laurel."
-
-At the same time as the bald man, a little girl approached. She implored
-Tograth:
-
-"Sweet man, sweet man, look at my mouth, my lover with a blow of his
-fist has broken several teeth. Return them to me."
-
-The scientist smiled and put his finger into her mouth, saying: "Now
-thou canst chew, thou hast excellent teeth. But in return, show us what
-thou hast in thy bag."
-
-The girl laughed, opening her mouth in which the new teeth gleamed; then
-she opened her bag, excusing herself:
-
-"What a funny idea, before everybody! Here are my keys, here an
-enamelled photograph of my lover; he really looks better than that."
-
-But the eyes of Tograth were greedy; he had perceived all folded up in
-her bag several Parisian songs, rhymed and set to Viennese airs. He took
-these papers and after having scrutinized them, asked:
-
-"These are nothing but songs, hast thou no poems?"
-
-"I have a very lovely one," said the girl. "It was the bell-boy of the
-Hotel Victoria wrote it for me before he left for Switzerland. But I
-never showed it to Sossi."
-
-And she proffered Tograth a little rose sheet of paper on which was
-written a pathetic acrostic.
-
-
- _My dear beloved, ere I go away,
- And thy love, Maria, I betray,
-MARIA Rail and sob, my sweet, once more--again,
- If you'd come with me to the woods, we twain,(!)
- All would be sweeter; our parting would not pain._
-
-
-"It is not only poetry," exclaimed Tograth, "it is idiotic."
-
-And he tore up the paper and threw it into the ditch, while the girl
-knocked her teeth in fright and cried:
-
-"Sweet man, good man, I did not know that it was bad."
-
-
-Just then Croniamantal advanced close to Tograth and apostrophized the
-crowd:
-
-"Carrion, assassins!"
-
-They burst into laughter. They yelled:
-
-"Into the water with him, the rat."
-
-And Tograth, looking Croniamantal in the face, said:
-
-"My good brother, let not my affluence disturb you. As for me, I love
-the people, even though I stop at hotels which they do not frequent."
-
-The poet let Tograth talk, then he continued to address the crowd:
-
-"Carrion, laugh at me, your joys are numbered, each one of them will be
-torn from you one by one. And do you know, o people, what your hero is?"
-
-Tograth smiled and the crowd became all attention. The poet continued:
-
-"Your hero, o populace, is Boredom bringing Misery."
-
-
-A cry of astonishment issued from all the throats. Women crossed
-themselves. Tograth wanted to speak, but Croniamantal seized him
-suddenly by the neck, threw him to the ground and held him there with
-his foot on the man's chest, while he spoke:
-
-"He is Boredom and Misery, the monstrous enemy of man, the Behemoth
-glutted with debauchery and rape, dripping the blood of marvellous
-poets. He is the vomit of the Antipodes, and his miracles deceive the
-clairvoyant no more than the miracles of Simon the Magi did the
-Apostles. Marseillais, Marseillais, woe that you whose ancestors come
-from the most purely lyrical land, should unite with the enemies of
-poetry, with the barbarians of all the nations. What a strange miracle,
-this, of the German returned from Australia! To have imposed it upon the
-world and to have been for a moment stronger than creation itself,
-stronger than immortal poetry."
-
-But Tograth who was able to extricate himself at last, arose, soiled
-with dust and drunk with rage. He asked:
-
-"Who are you?"
-
-"Who are you, who are you?" cried the crowd.
-
-
-The poet turned toward the east and in exalted tones said:
-
-"I am Croniamantal, the greatest of living poets. I have often seen God
-face to face, I have borne the divine rapture which my human eyes
-tempered. I was born in eternity. But the day has come, and I am here
-before you."
-
-
-Tograth greeted these last words with a terrible burst of laughter, and
-the first ranks of the crowd seeing Tograth laugh, took up his laughter,
-which, in bursts, in rolls, in trills, was soon communicated throughout
-the entire populace, even to Paponat and Tristouse Ballerinette. All of
-the open mouths yawned at Croniamantal, who became ill at ease.
-Interspersed with the laughter were shouts of:
-
-"Into the water with the poet!... Burn him, Croniamantal!... To the dogs
-with him, lover of the laurel!"
-
-A man who was in the first ranks and carried a heavy club gave
-Croniamantal a blow, causing him to make a painful grimace which doubled
-the merriment of the crowd. A stone, accurately thrown, struck the nose
-of the poet and drew blood. A fish merchant forced his way through the
-mob and, confronting Croniamantal, said:
-
-"Hou! the raven. I remember you, all right, you're a policeman who
-wanted to pass for a poet; there, cow; take that, story teller."
-
-And he gave him a terrific slap, spitting in his face. The man whom
-Tograth had cured of _alopecia_ came to him and said:
-
-"Look at my hair, is it a false miracle or not?"
-
-And lifting his cane, he thrust it so adroitly that he gouged out
-Croniamantal's right eye. Croniamantal fell over backward, women threw
-themselves upon him and beat him. Tristouse jumped up and down with joy,
-while Paponat tried to calm her. But she went over and with the end of
-her umbrella stuck out Croniamantal's other eye, while he, seeing her in
-this last moment of sight, cried:
-
-"I confess my love for Tristouse Ballerinette, the divine poesy that
-consoles my soul."
-
-"Shut up, vermin!" cried the crowd of men, "there are ladies here."
-
-The women went away soon, and a man who was balancing a large knife on
-his open hand threw it in such a way that it landed right in the open
-mouth of Croniamantal. Other men did the same thing. The knives stuck in
-his belly, his chest, and soon there was nothing more on the ground than
-a corpse bristling with points like the husk of a chestnut.
-
-
-
-
-XVIII. APOTHEOSIS
-
-
-Croniamantal dead, Paponat brought Tristouse Ballerinette back to the
-hotel, where she relapsed into nervous fainting-spells. They were in a
-very old building and by chance Paponat discovered, wrapped up in
-cardboard, a bottle of water of the Queen of Hungary which dated from
-the 17th Century. This remedy worked rapidly. Tristouse recovered her
-senses and immediately went to the hospital to claim the body of
-Croniamantal which was turned over to her without delay.
-
-She arranged a decent burial for him and placed over his tomb a stone on
-which there was engraved the following epitaph:
-
-
-_Walk lightly and your silence keep,
-To leave untroubled his good sleep._
-
-
-Then she went back to Paris with Paponat who soon left her for a
-mannikin of the Champs-Élysées.
-
-Tristouse did not regret him very long. She went into mourning for
-Croniamantal and climbed up to the Montmartre, to the Bird of Benin's
-who began to pay court to her, and after he had what he desired they
-began to talk of Croniamantal.
-
-"I ought to make a statue to him," said the Bird of Benin, "For I am not
-only a painter but also a sculptor."
-
-"That's right," said Tristouse, "we must raise a statue to him."
-
-"Where?" asked the Bird of Benin; "The government will not grant us any
-ground. Times are bad for poets."
-
-"So they say," replied Tristouse, "but perhaps it
-isn't true. What do you think of the Meudon woods?"
-
-"I thought of that, but I dared not say it. Let's go to the Meudon
-woods."
-
-"A statue of what?" asked Tristouse, "Marble? Bronze?"
-
-"No, that's old fashioned. I must model a profound statue out of
-nothing, like poetry and glory."
-
-"Bravo! Bravo!" cried Tristouse clapping her hands, "A statue out of
-nothing, empty, that's lovely, and when will you make it?"
-
-"Tomorrow, if you wish; we shall go and dine, pass the night together,
-and in the morning we shall go to the Meudon woods where I shall make
-this profound statue."
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-No sooner said, than done. They went and dined with the élite of the
-Montmartre, returned to sleep at midnight and on the next morning at
-nine o'clock, after having armed himself with a pick-axe, a spade, a
-shovel and some boasting-chisels, they took the road for the pretty
-Meudon woods, where they met the Prince of Poets, accompanied by his
-little friend, quite happy over the pleasant days he had spent in the
-City-prison.
-
-In the clearing, the Bird of Benin set to work. In a few hours he had
-dug a trench of about a meter and a half in breadth and two in depth.
-
-Then they had lunch on the grass.
-
-The afternoon was devoted by the Bird of Benin to sculpturing the
-interior of the monument to Croniamantal.
-
-On the following day, the sculptor came back with workingmen who fixed
-up an armed cement wall, six inches broad on top, and eighteen inches
-broad at the base, so that the empty space had the form of Croniamantal,
-and the hole was full of his spectre.
-
-
-* * *
-
-
-On the next day, the Bird of Benin, Tristouse, the Prince of Poets and
-his little friend came back to the statue which was heaped up with earth
-which they had gathered here and there, and at nightfall they planted a
-fine laurel tree, while Tristouse Ballerinette danced and sang:
-
-
-_No one loves thee thou art lying
-Palantila Mila Mima
-When he was lover to the queen
-He was king while she was queen_
-
-_'Tis true, 'tis true that I love him
-Croniamantal way down in the pit
-Can that be right
-Let us gather the sweet marjoram
-At night._
-
-
-
-
-THE END
-
-
-
-
-NOTES
-
-
-[Footnote 1: The French language at the end of the nineteenth century
-had reached a certain fixation, chiefly through the influence of
-Mallarmé, whose literary artifice was consternating. Apollinaire, a
-bizarre scholar, and yet a "lord of language," was more of a freebooter.
-Many of his exoticisms came from the market-place or from other tongues.
-Their sources were fair and false. But at bottom, there is the sincere
-desire to free modern literature from romantic sentiment, and artifice,
-to use words as directly and freely as in conversation.]
-
-
-[Footnote 2: Here Apollinaire's frivolous playing with the language can
-scarcely be rendered. The original runs: "...en me réfugiant dans _mon_
-ou _ma_ 'bedroom' _du_ ou _de la_ 'family house' ou j'étais
-descendue."]
-
-[Footnote 3: Among these towns we may cite, Naples, Adrianople,
-Constantinople, Neauphle le-Chateau, Grenoble, Pultawa,
-Pouilly-en-Auxois, Pouilly-les-Fours, Nauplie, Seoul, Melbourne, Oran,
-Nazareth, Ermenonville, Nogent-sur-Marne, etc.]
-
-[Footnote 4: Wilhelm de Kostrowitzki was baptized in Rome, September 29,
-1880, at the _Sacrosancta Patriarcalis Basilica Santa Mariae Maioris._
-His father is said to have been a high prelate of the Catholic Church.]
-
-[Footnote 5: "Let the seven countries and four continents dispute the
-honor of his birthplace"--Mme de Kostrowitzka (who had never opened but
-one of his books, and found that "idiotic") exclaimed one day:
-
-"O Poland, thou wilt remember thy great son!"]
-
-[Footnote 6: Apollinaire wrote to his friend André Billy: "Was I not
-too a master of rhymed verse?" This brief couplet, paraphrased from:
-
-Luth!
-Zut!
-
-marked a point of departure toward _Calligrammes._]
-
-[Footnote 7: This "absolute" poem, "freed from the restrictions of even
-language" may be profitably studied for its positive suggestions. The
-Dadaists, whose godfather Apollinaire was, took up this form with a
-passionate conviction that terrified the populace after the war. "Is not
-every art-theory, every school, only the triumph of an individual's
-taste, the imposition of a stronger mind upon the weaker ones?"
-Nonsense-poems, were the reductio ad absurdum of all literary artifice.
-The final word, the ultimate bankruptcy. Apollinaire's intense desire to
-negate literary precedent and to innovate, led through the stimulus of
-the Cubist painters to _Calligrammes_, which contains his calligraphic
-poetry. The typography is arranged most intricately, with regard to its
-pictural or abstract effect. Apollinaire hoped ultimately to unite
-poetry and painting, in fact his last critical writings in the Mercure
-de France are filled with amazing conjectures as to the future of art.
-
-The "poèmes conversations" of Calligrammes, as André Billy relates,
-may well have originated in the following manner:
-
-"He, Dupuy, and I are sitting at Crucifixe with three glasses of
-vermouth. Suddenly Guillaume bursts out laughing--he has completely
-forgotten to write the preface to Robert Delaunay's catalogue, which he
-promised to mail that evening. 'Quick waiter, pen and ink. Three of us
-will get through with this in a jiffy.' Guillaume's pen is off already:
-
-'Of red and green all the yellow dies.'
-His pen stops.
-But Dupuy dictates:
-'When the arras sing in our natal forests.'
-The pen starts off again transcribing faithfully.
-It is my turn:
-
-'There is a poem to be written about the bird with but one wing.'
-
-A reminiscence from _Alcools_--the pen writes without a stop.
-
-'A good thing to do if there is any hurry,' I said, 'would be to send
-your preface over the telephone.'
-
-And so the next line became:
-
-'And we shall send this by the telephone.'
-
-I no longer remember all the details of this singular collaboration, but
-I can state that the preface to the catalogue of Robert Delaunay came
-out entire."]
-
-[Footnote 8: This chapter is obviously written in an entirely different
-period. The Poet Assassinated, composes, if we choose to believe so,
-Apollinaire's vision of his own life. The book was collated from many
-fragments, many beginnings, and published in 1916, by "_l'Édition_,"
-for the so-called "_Librairie des Curieux._" In the opening passage of
-this chapter part of the influences of the Cubist painters, and their
-inventions are particularly apparent.]
-
-[Footnote 9: The theatre in France of the period immediately preceding
-the war is a sorry thing to relate. We will pass over Brieux, Hervieu,
-Battaille, Bernstein, to consider Donnay, Porto-Riche and their ilk.
-These worthies and their imitators achieved unparalleled financial and
-social triumphs by incorporating a certain intimate lewdness into their
-trivial drama. Their obvious theatrical machinery, which Apollinaire
-ridicules, has been as successfully adopted in this country and
-elsewhere in Europe, under the label of "modern drama."]
-
-[Footnote 10: _Mamamouchi_ is a character in Molière's play, _le
-Bourgeois Gentilhomme_, a dignitary whose sense of office is so strongly
-imbedded in him that he always enters shouting, "_Je suis Mamamouchi!_"]
-
-[Footnote 11: François Coppée, this sentimental nineteenth century
-poet was amazingly popular, and truly French in his weaknesses, like the
-music of Massenet. Apollinaire takes grave liberties with him, out of
-sheer mischief.]
-
-[Footnote 12: _Archipel_, archipelago, used in the sense of _papier
-buvard_ (!) _blotting paper!_ The disciples of Mallarmé went even
-farther than this.]
-
-[Footnote 13: _Tychobrahé_, Tycho Brahe, the Danish astronomer
-(1546-1601). Although lord of a province in Scania, he took refuge in a
-monastery where he pursued his scientific researches.
-
-He settled in Prague, at the invitation of Emperor Rudolf II, and died
-there. Whether he ever really visited the monastery at Brünn is hard to
-judge.]
-
-[Footnote 14: The number of prizes given for poetry and for other forms
-of literature has reached an even more disquieting figure since the war.
-Great publicity attends each award, and the publishers vie with each
-other in establishing such prizes. However, the lot of the true poet is
-as hard as ever, since it has become distinctly unfashionable to be the
-recipient of a prize.]
-
-[Footnote 15: Paul Fort, Prince of Poets, he, of the broad-brimmed black
-hat, and the flowing scarf, frequented the _Closérie des Lilas_, with
-his band, whereas his avowed enemy, Apollinaire, and his far more
-disreputable cronies quartered themselves in the Café Rotonde, a short
-distance east along the Boulevard Montparnasse.]
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's The Poet Assassinated, by Guillaume Apollinaire
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-
-<pre>
-
-Project Gutenberg's The Poet Assassinated, by Guillaume Apollinaire
-
-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.org/license
-
-
-Title: The Poet Assassinated
-
-Author: Guillaume Apollinaire
-
-Translator: Matthew Josephson
-
-Release Date: November 23, 2019 [EBook #60771]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POET ASSASSINATED ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images
-generously made available by Hathi Trust.)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
-<img src="images/apollinaire_cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-<h2>THE POET ASSASSINATED</h2>
-
-<h4>BY</h4>
-
-<h3>GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE</h3>
-
-<h4>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE</h4>
-
-<h4>AND NOTES BY</h4>
-
-<h4>MATTHEW JOSEPHSON</h4>
-
-<h5>NEW YORK</h5>
-
-<h5>THE BROOM PUBLISHING CO.</h5>
-
-<h5>1923</h5>
-
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-
-
-
-
-<p style="margin-left: 20%; font-size: 0.8em;">
-<a id="CONTENTS"></a><a>CONTENTS</a>
-<br />
-<a href="#BIOGRAPHICAL_NOTICE">BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE</a><br />
-<a href="#I._RENOWN">I. RENOWN</a><br />
-<a href="#II._PROCREATION">II. PROCREATION</a><br />
-<a href="#III._GESTATION">III. GESTATION</a><br />
-<a href="#IV._NOBILITY">IV. NOBILITY</a><br />
-<a href="#V._PAPACY">V. PAPACY</a><br />
-<a href="#VI._GAMBRINUS">VI. GAMBRINUS</a><br />
-<a href="#VII._CONFINEMENT">VII. CONFINEMENT</a><br />
-<a href="#VIII._MAMMON">VIII. MAMMON</a><br />
-<a href="#IX._PEDAGOGY">IX. PEDAGOGY</a><br />
-<a href="#X._POETRY">X. POETRY</a><br />
-<a href="#XI._DRAMATURGY">XI. DRAMATURGY</a><br />
-<a href="#XII._LOVE">XII. LOVE</a><br />
-<a href="#XIII._MODES">XIII. MODES</a><br />
-<a href="#XIV._ENCOUNTERS">XIV. ENCOUNTERS</a><br />
-<a href="#XV._VOYAGE">XV. VOYAGE</a><br />
-<a href="#XVI._PERSECUTION">XVI. PERSECUTION</a><br />
-<a href="#XVII._ASSASSINATION">XVII. ASSASSINATION</a><br />
-<a href="#XVIII._APOTHEOSIS">XVIII. APOTHEOSIS</a><br />
-<a href="#NOTES">NOTES</a></p>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
-<img src="images/apollinaire01.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
-<p class="center">André Rouveyre (May 1916)</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="BIOGRAPHICAL_NOTICE">BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>There are men who cannot bring themselves to conform with the rest of
-human society, who cannot conceive of a secure and honorable career even
-at the hands of a tolerant age. They flee, they are eternally escaping
-from the fold by some particularly outrageous or suicidal action.
-Rimbaud having mastered the art of poetry in his twenties, deserted
-literature to lead caravans through the African desert. Apollinaire at
-almost as early an age had also mastered the traditional forms of his
-art, but with Rimbaud's example before him could not become "an
-explorer, a trapper, a robber, a hunter, a miner."</p>
-
-<p>Possessed of great energy, curiosity, and disrespect, he was from the
-start thrown upon the side of those who flout authority, court disorder
-and embrace the glitter and profusion of an intensely mundane existence.</p>
-
-<p>To regard the spectacle of modern life and to sense the cleavage with
-the past and with the art or humanities of the previous day, is to be
-"modern". For many the word is hateful; and yet Apollinaire set out
-deliberately to be modern: to revalue the contributions of the past in
-terms of the phenomenal changes which the twentieth century and the
-Great War had brought in.</p>
-
-<p>The barbarous new age he courted, adopting much of its method, the
-character of its institutions and its cruel philosophy. Perhaps he has
-interpreted his age best in his own personality, that is to say his
-life, a large and daring conception in itself.</p>
-
-<p>"Vain to be astonished at his continual feast-making," says his friend
-the painter, Rouveyre, "at the rash exploits he undertook, at the crown
-of thorns he inflicted upon himself... He was a prodigious creator and
-all of his literary and social games, were of the most brilliant and
-lavish character, far more so than their objects. Like God, who could
-make man out of nothing, Apollinaire made many, with the same poverty of
-material." (<i>Souvenirs de mon Commerce</i>&mdash;A. Rouveyre, Paris,
-1919, Mercure de France.)</p>
-
-
-<p>Apollinaire was born in Monte Carlo in 1880. It is still a delicate
-matter to approach the facts of his life, to some extent, because of his
-confusing boasts and pretensions. We do know that his mother was Mme de
-Kostrovitzka, a lady of Polish descent who lived in France, and that
-Apollinaire (i. e., Wilhelm de Kostrovitzki) was baptized in Rome on
-September 29, 1880.</p>
-
-<p>He received an extensive and preciose education. He lived with his
-mother in a chateau outside of Paris, a huge mansion that had a billiard
-room, music parlors, salons, and animals of all kinds: monkeys, dogs,
-snakes, parrots, canaries. Apollinaire travelled much when he was quite
-young, chiefly in Germany, Italy and Eastern Europe; he lived and
-studied in the Rhineland. Then he came back to Paris, with "all the
-poems he had been collecting in a cigar-box."</p>
-
-<p>A literary career in Paris, is perfectly conventional by now. You run
-after the editors of newspapers, and finally you are allowed to
-contribute "feuilletons" to them. Then the magazines, the publishers,
-and you have "arrived." Apollinaire became a journalist and lived for a
-time by the veriest pot-boiling, some of which included translations of
-Aretino, an edition of the Marquis de Sade, introductions to
-pornographical classics, and even a great bibliographical work, called,
-"The Inferno of the National Library." But he soon became notorious in
-Paris. He gathered a motley horde of writers, painters and <i>types</i> (i.
-e., idiots, or freaks), and paraded from the right bank to the left,
-from the Montmartre to Montparnasse. His associates are now the most
-distinguished names of France, Henri-Matisse, Picasso, Dérain, Braque,
-Rousseau (the old man whom he "discovered" near the fortifications of
-Paris), and André Salmon, Marie Laurencin, Max Jacob, Pierre Reverdy,
-"baron" Mollet, his secretary.</p>
-
-<p>He was intensely conscious of the time-spirit. An original and rugged
-intellect, he disquieted those who were repelled by his lavish and
-heedless manner. For him the French literature of the Symbolist era,
-which de Gourmont still presided over, was dead, and he became, during
-that whole period from 1905 to the end of the Great War, the only living
-force in France. He predicted the sterile close of the literature of de
-Regnier and Paul Fort, "Prince of Poets" (!), heralding an age of
-boundless expansion and experiment, with new zones of experience, new
-forms, and a yet more complex and rich civilization.</p>
-
-<p>Such ideas were in the air of Europe: there was Marinetti, in Italy:
-Cézanne had nearly brought his stupendous work to a close; and a group
-of painters, Picasso, Duchamps, Picabia, Braque, Dérain (the Cubists),
-launched their work upon a frightened world. The abstract investigations
-of the Cubists appealed to him powerfully. Apollinaire became their
-ringleader. His book, "The Cubist Painters," is an authoritative apology
-for this movement. But not content with this, he conceived little
-movements of his own, invented names for them, wrote up programs, and
-precipitated bad painters into careers. It was not all buffoonery. He
-may have placed silly, vacuous individuals at the head of the reviews he
-organized, "<i>Les Soirées de Paris</i>", <i>Nord Sud</i> (named after the
-new subway); but some of the best modern writing of the time, by Max Jacob,
-Pierre Reverdy, André Salmon, Paul Valéry, Apollinaire himself, and
-some extremely youthful poets who are now Dadaists, were included in
-them. His great charm in conversation, his uproarious wit, his complete
-shamelessness, made him idol of all who were drawn to him.</p>
-
-<p><i>Alcools</i>, his first collection of poems, appeared in 1913. It was
-the escape of a personality from the "eternal recurrence." The Symbolists
-had sought a kind of exalted, objective state; this false mysticism was
-accompanied by an attitude of fatigue, and preciose resignation. Even
-the language, in their hands had become crystallized, or static.
-Apollinaire's attitude was the complete reverse. A wonderfully happy
-man, his verse was lustier and sturdier. He had learned much from the
-reawakened interest in the "primitive" Italian painters. There was no
-false shading in his work. Every line was as direct as in a child's
-drawing. No one could use clichés or write of the most common diurnal
-experiences as freshly as he. His verse had also a certain heroic
-character, an air of prophecy.</p>
-
-<p>It has always been the good fortune of France that Paris draws gifted
-strangers from other lands, who bring real gold to her. Apollinaire, a
-weird mixture of what Slavic and Latin strains, laid rough hands on the
-language. His aberrations are superb. He could never resist the
-foreigner's impulse toward <i>jeux des mots</i>; and none are quicker than
-the French themselves to accept and enjoy the new puns and
-double-entendres. For the French have gone farther, their language has
-been more pawed over and revivified through foreign usage than ours.
-Apollinaire's exoticisms were not bizarre; they had the air of being
-conceived in conversation.</p>
-
-<p>In the summer of 1914, Apollinaire was in Deauville, surrounded by a
-cosmopolitan horde of Poles, Germans, Hungarians, Czechs and Russians
-when the Great War began. He embraced the superb irony of these events
-with the utmost ardour; his attitude was precisely that which Pascal
-epitomizes:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;">"<i>Why do you wish to kill brother?"</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"<i>Do I not live on the other side of the river?</i>"</span></p>
-
-
-<p>He went into the artillery, and was stationed at Nîmes. He became
-Second Lieutenant Guillaume Apollinaire. There were dull months upon
-months in the barracks. There was also active fighting. He was three
-times wounded in the head, and trepanned. In the Fall of 1915, he lay in
-a hospital in Paris, recovering from a successful operation. It was at
-this time that he assembled the fragments of a novel over which he had
-been working for a period of years, <i>The Poet Assassinated.</i></p>
-
-<p>The poet, Croniamantal, is one of the few frankly epic figures of modern
-literature. Apollinaire had never really outlived the poet's age of
-twenty-five, and the preposterous life of his hero is drawn against the
-artistic and social foibles of his age. By no means mere satire in the
-18th century sense. Apollinaire grows positively hilarious and
-intoxicated over his characters so that at times he is beside himself
-with sheer fun. Results: humor of extraordinary eloquence and sonority,
-and a form that is complete unrepresentative, with perpetual digressions
-and asides.</p>
-
-<p>There have been so many tired men in France who wrote like flagellants.
-Flaubert made his waking hours a nightmare; Gautier was much too
-corseted; to Stendhal writing was a torturesome but resistless destiny;
-Villiers was a devout artisan; Mallarmé goaded himself into obscuracy
-and speechlessness.</p>
-
-<p>We must go back to Stendhal to find such extreme opposition to
-naturalism. It is enemy of all that was Ibsen. Distortion or
-under-emphasis are employed to fantastic ends; when a puppet is
-uninteresting or wrung dry he is dismissed or killed. Here is the
-destructive side of it: Apollinaire runs all the risks, obeys no rules,
-and writes for fun.</p>
-
-<p>In the following year he was dismissed from the army and pronounced
-unfit for anything but censorship service.</p>
-
-<p>Discharged from the hospital, he bought himself the most immaculate
-officer's uniform, somewhat constricting for his already corpulent form
-and his double chin, and in a victoria rode up to the editorial offices
-of the <i>Mercure de France.</i> His manner was perfectly that of "a
-Marseillaise tenor in an opera comique." His friends were in an uproar
-over him. The art life of Paris, flared up again, under the guns. He
-broke loose again upon his maddest tours de forces. A great welcoming
-ball was given him, an orgy attended by a howling, cursing, fighting
-throng, in which men and women tore about like Chaplin in the films.
-There had never been such an outlandish and heterogeneous bazaar.
-Apollinaire was ravished at being the orchestra-leader of such disorders
-and follies. To stupefy them he gave a production of his preposterous
-play, <i>Les Mammelles de Tiresias.</i> From the point of view of "action,"
-of living, these were his greatest moments. Even before the war, these
-carryings on had passed all boundaries and were a source of scandal all
-over the world. Apollinaire was the man of the day, for this desperate
-crowd. He <i>made</i> poets and painters. "He made men and women seem much
-madder than they really were." While they understood little his interior
-laughter, his rebellious imagination.</p>
-
-<p>I have stressed Apollinaire's social adventures, regarding them as an
-aspect of his creative expression. Wholly absorbed in art, he was
-completely wanting in the false reverence and dignity which some affect.
-Believing in the new painting of Picasso, Braque, Dérain, he could as
-well hold a street demonstration, parading his friends as sandwich-men
-bearing cubist paintings.</p>
-
-<p>In the last days of 1918 he was stricken with influenza and was taken
-off very quickly. All the fools and freaks stopped pirouetting.</p>
-
-<p><i>Calligrammes</i>, his book of war poems had just appeared, and it is
-agreed that his strongest and most singular expressions lie in these
-reactions to the war. All other artists were involuntarily baffled by
-their moral sentiments. Only Apollinaire, with his completely negative
-philosophy, his un-morality, his shame in all of the common virtues,
-could retort to this war with his gorgeous buffoonery and his ringing
-apostrophes. He seized the new meanings of the modern era, from the
-phallic zeppelins in the sky, the labels on his tobacco tins, the pages
-of newspapers, or the walls of old cities. If these things are unworthy,
-if the age is damnable, then Apollinaire is damned.</p>
-
-<p>"Is there nothing new under the sun?" he asks. "Nothing&mdash;for the
-sun, perhaps. But for man, everything." He calls upon artists to be at
-least as forward as the mechanical genius of the time. The artist is to
-stop at nothing in his quest for novelty of form and material; to seize
-upon all the infinite possibilities afforded by the new instruments and
-opportunities, creating thereby the myths and fables of the future.</p>
-
-
-<p style="margin-left: 60%;">MATTHEW JOSEPHSON</p>
-
-
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="right"><i>À René Dalize</i></p>
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="I._RENOWN">I. RENOWN</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>The glory of Croniamantal is now universal. One hundred and twenty-three
-towns in seven countries on four continents dispute the honor of this
-notable hero's birth. I shall attempt, further on, to elucidate this
-important question.</p>
-
-<p>All of these people have more or less modified the sonorous name of
-Croniamantal. The Arabs, the Turks and other races who read from right
-to left have never failed to pronounce it Latnamainorc, but the Turks
-call him, bizarrely enough, Pata, which signifies goose or genital
-organ. The Russians surname him Viperdoc, that is, born of a fart, the
-reason for this soubriquet will be seen later on. The Scandinavians, or
-at least, the Dalecarlians, call him at will, <i>quoniam</i>, in Latin,
-which means, <i>because</i>, but often serves to indicate the noble
-passages in popular accounts of the middle ages. It is to be noted that
-the Saxons and the Turks manifest with regard to Croniamantal, a similar
-sentiment, since they refer to him by an identical surname, whose origin,
-however, is still scarcely explained. It is believed that this is an
-euphemistic allusion to the fact stressed in the medical report of the
-Marseilles doctor, Ratiboul, on the death of Croniamantal. According to
-this official document, all the organs of Croniamantal were sound, and the
-lawyer-physician added in Latin, as did Napoleon's aide Major Henry:
-<i>partes viriles exiguitatis insignis, sicut pueri.</i></p>
-
-<p>For the rest, there are countries where the notion of the
-Croniamantalian virility has entirely disappeared. Thus, the negroes in
-Moriana call him Tsatsa or Dzadza or Rsoussour, all feminine names, for
-they have feminized Croniamantal as the Byzantines feminized Holy
-Friday in making it Saint Parascevia.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="II._PROCREATION">II. PROCREATION</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Two leagues from Spa, on the road bordered by gnarled trees and bushes,
-Vierselin Tigoboth, an ambulant musician who was coming on foot from
-Liège, struck his flint to light his pipe. A woman's voice cried:</p>
-
-<p>He lifted his head, and a wild laugh burst out: "Hahaba! Hohoho! Hihihi!
-thine eyelids are the color of Egyptian lentils! My name is Macarée. I
-want a tom-cat."</p>
-
-<p>Vierselin Tigoboth perceived by the roadside a young woman, brunette and
-formed of nice curves. How charming she seemed in her short bicyclist's
-skirt! And holding her bicycle with one hand, while gathering sloes with
-the other, she ardently fixed her great golden eyes on the Flemish
-musician.</p>
-
-<p>"<i>Vs'estez one belle bâcelle</i>," said Vierselin Tigoboth, smacking
-his tongue. "But, my God, if you eat all those sloes, you will have the
-colic tonight, I'm sure."</p>
-
-<p>"I want a tom-cat," repeated Macarée and unclasping her bodice she
-showed Vierselin Tigoboth her breasts, sweet as the buttocks of the
-angels, and whose aureole was the tender color of the rose clouds of
-sunset.</p>
-
-<p>"Oh! oh!" cried Vierselin Tigoboth, "As pretty as the pearls of
-Amblevia, give them to me. I shall gather a big bouquet of ferns for you
-and of irises, color of the moon."</p>
-
-<p>Vierselin Tigoboth approached to seize this miraculous flesh which was
-being offered to him for nothing, like the holy bread at Mass; but then
-he restrained himself.</p>
-
-<p>"You're a sweet lass, by God, you're nicer than the fair of Liège.
-You're a nicer little girl than Donnaye, than Tatenne, than Victoire,
-whose gallant I have been, and nicer than Rénier's daughters, whom old
-Rénier always has for sale. Mind you, if you want to be my love, 'ware
-o' the crablouse, by God."</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">MACARÉE</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>They are the color of the moon</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>And round as the wheel of Fortune.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">VIERSELIN TIGOBOTH</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>If you fear not to catch the louse</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Then I should love to be your spouse.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>And Vierselin Tigoboth approached, his lips full of kisses: "I love you!
-It is pooh! O beloved!"</p>
-
-<p>Soon there were nothing but sighs, the songs of birds and of russet and
-horned little hares, like elves, fleet as the seven-league boots,
-passing by Vierselin Tigoboth and Macarée, prone under the power of
-love behind the plumtrees.</p>
-
-<p>Then Macarée was off on the old contraption.</p>
-
-<p>And sad unto death, Vierselin Tigoboth cursed the instrument of velocity
-which rolled away and vanished behind the terraced rotunda, at the same
-moment that the musician began to make water while humming a jingle...</p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
-<img src="images/apollinaire02.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
-<p class="center">André Dérain</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="III._GESTATION">III. GESTATION</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Macarée soon became aware that she had conceived by Vierselin
-Tigoboth.</p>
-
-<p>"How annoying!" she thought at first, "But medicine has made much
-progress lately. I shall get rid of it when I want. Ah! that Walloon! He
-will have toiled in vain. Can Macarée bring up the son of a vagabond?
-No, no, I condemn this embryo to death. I should never even preserve
-this foetus in alcohol. And thou, my belly, if thou knewest how much I
-love thee since knowing thy goodness. What, wouldst stoop to carry such
-baggage as thou findest along the road? O too innocent belly, thou art
-unworthy of my selfish soul.</p>
-
-<p>"What shall I say, o belly? thou'rt cruel, thou partest children from
-their parents. No! I love thee no longer. Thou'rt naught but a full bag,
-at this moment, o my belly, smiling at the nombril, o elastic belly,
-downy, polished, convex, sorrowful, round, silky, which ennobles me. For
-thou makest noble, o my belly, more beautiful than the sunlight. Thou
-shalt ennoble also the child of the Flemish vagabond and thou art worthy
-of the loins of Jupiter. What a misfortune! a moment ago I was about to
-destroy a child of noble race, my child who already lives in my beloved
-belly."</p>
-
-<p>She opened the door suddenly and cried:</p>
-
-<p>"Madame Dehan! Mademoiselle Baba!"</p>
-
-<p>There was a rattling of doors and bolts and then the proprietors of
-Macarée's lodging came running out.</p>
-
-<p>"I am pregnant," cried Macarée, "I am pregnant!"</p>
-
-<p>She was sitting up in bed, her legs spread apart. Her skin looked very
-delicate. Macarée was narrow at the waist and broad-hipped.</p>
-
-<p>"Poor little one," said Madame Dehan, who had but one eye, no waistline,
-a moustache, and limped. "After confinement women are just like crushed
-snail-shells. After confinement women are simply prey to disease (look
-at me!) an egg-shell full of all sorts of rubbish, incantations and
-other witch-spells. Ah! Ah! You have done very well."</p>
-
-<p>"All foolishness," said Macarée. "The duty of women is to have
-children, and I am sure that their health is generally improved thereby,
-both physically and morally."</p>
-
-<p>"Where are you sick?" asked Mademoiselle Baba.</p>
-
-<p>"Shut up! I say," exclaimed Madame Dehan. "Better go and look for my
-flask of Spa elixir and bring some little glasses."</p>
-
-<p>Mademoiselle Baba brought the elixir. They drank of it.</p>
-
-<p>"I feel better now," said Madame Dehan, "After so much emotion, I need
-to refresh myself."</p>
-
-<p>She poured out another little glass of the elixir for herself, drank it
-and licked the last few drops up with her tongue.</p>
-
-<p>"Think of it," she said finally, "think of it, Madame Macarée ... I
-swear by all that I hold sacred, Mademoiselle Baba can be my witness,
-this is the first time that such a thing has happened to one of my
-tenants. And how many I have had! My Lord! Louise Bernier, whom they
-nicknamed Wrinkle, because she was so skinny; Marcelle la Carabinière
-(the freshest thing you ever saw!); Josuette, who died of a sunstroke in
-Christiania, the sun wishing thus to have his revenge of Joshua; Lili de
-Mercœur, a grand name, mind you, (not hers of course) and then vile
-enough for a chic woman, as Mercœur put it: 'You must pronounce it
-Mercure,' screwing up her mouth like a chicken's hole. Well she got
-hers, all right, they filled her as full of mercury as a thermometer.
-She would ask me in the morning; What sort of weather do you think we'll
-have today?' But I would always answer: 'You ought to know better than
-I...' Never, never in the world would any of those have become enceinte
-in my house."</p>
-
-<p>"Oh well, it isn't as bad as that," said Macarée, "I also never had it
-happen to me before. Give me some advice, but make it short."</p>
-
-<p>At this moment she arose.</p>
-
-<p>"Oh!" cried Madame Dehan, "what a well-shaped behind you have! how
-sweet! how white! what embonpoint! Baba, Madame Macarée is going to put
-on her dressing-gown. Serve coffee and bring the bilberry tart."</p>
-
-<p>Macarée put on a chemise and then a dressing gown whose belt was made
-of a Scotch shawl.</p>
-
-<p>Mademoiselle Baba came back; she brought a big platter with cups, a
-coffee pot, milk-pitcher, jar of honey, butter cakes and the bilberry
-tart.</p>
-
-<p>"If you want some good advice," said Madame Dehan, wiping away with the
-back of her hand the coffee that dribbled down her chin, "You had better
-go and baptize your child."</p>
-
-<p>"I shall make sure and do that," said Macarée.</p>
-
-<p>"And I even think," said Mademoiselle Baba, "that it would be best to
-do it on the day he is born."</p>
-
-<p>"In fact," Madam Dehan mumbled, her mouth full of food, "you can never
-tell what may happen. Then you will nurse him yourself, and if I were
-you, if I had money like you, I should try to go to Rome before the
-confinement and get the Pope to bless me. Your child will never know
-either the paternal caress or blow, he will never utter the sweet name
-of papa. May the blessing of the Holy Papa at least follow him all his
-life."</p>
-
-<p>And Madame Dehan began to sob like a kettle boiling over, while Macarée
-burst into tears as abundant as a spouting whale. But what of
-Mademoiselle Baba? Her lips blue with berries, she wept so hard that
-from her throat the sobs flooded down to her hymen and nearly choked
-her.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="IV._NOBILITY">IV. NOBILITY</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>After having won a great deal of money at baccarat, and already rich,
-thanks to Love, Macarée, whose corpulency nothing could conceal, came
-to Paris, where above all, she ran after the most fashionable modistes.</p>
-
-<p>How chic she was, how chic she was!</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>One night when she went to the Théâtre Français a play with a moral
-was presented. In the first act, a young woman whom surgery had rendered
-sterile lamented the fatness of her husband who had the dropsy and was
-very jealous. The doctor went out saying:</p>
-
-<p>"Only a great miracle and great devotion can save your husband."</p>
-
-<p>In the second act, the young woman said to the young doctor:</p>
-
-<p>"I offer myself up for my husband. I want to become dropsical in his
-stead."</p>
-
-<p>"Let us love each other, Madame. And if you are not unfaithful to the
-principle of maternity your wish will be granted. And what sweet glory I
-shall have thereof!"</p>
-
-<p>"Alas!" murmured the lady, "I no longer have any ovaries."</p>
-
-<p>"Love," cried the doctor at this, "Love, madame, is capable of working
-the greatest miracles."</p>
-
-<p>In the third act, the husband, thin as an I, and the lady, eight months
-gone, felicitated each other on the exchange they had made. The doctor
-communicated to the Academy of Medicine the results of his experiments
-in the fecundation of women become sterile as a result of surgical
-operations.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>Toward the end of the third act, someone shouted "Fire!" in the hall.
-The frightened spectators rushed from the hall howling. In fleeing,
-Macarée possessed herself of the arm of the first man she encountered.
-He was well dressed and fair of feature, and as Macarée was charming,
-he seemed flattered that she had chosen him as her protector. They made
-each other's acquaintance at a café and from there went to sup in the
-Montmartre. But it appeared that François des Ygrées had negligently
-forgotten to take his purse with him. Macarée gladly paid the bill. And
-François des Ygrées pushed gallantry so far as not to allow Macarée
-to spend the night alone, the incident at the theatre having rendered
-her nervous.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>François, baron des Ygrées (a doubtful baronetcy belonging to whoever
-claimed it) called himself the last offshoot of a noble house of
-Provence and pursued a career in heraldry on the sixth floor of an
-apartment in the rue Charles V.</p>
-
-<p>"But," he said, "the revolutions and the demagogues have changed things
-so that arms are no longer studied except by ill-born archaeologists,
-and the nobility is no longer tutored in this art."</p>
-
-<p>The baron des Ygrées, whose coat of arms was of <i>azur à trois pairies
-d'argent posés en pal</i>, was able to inspire enough sympathy in Macarée
-for her to want to take lessons in heraldry out of gratitude for that
-night at the Théâtre Français.</p>
-
-<p>Macarée showed herself, it is true, little given to learning the
-terminology of heraldry, and one might even say that she did not
-interest herself seriously in anything but the arms of the Pignatelli
-who had furnished popes for the Church and whose coat-of-arms was
-adorned with kettles.</p>
-
-<p>However, these lessons were wasted time to neither Macarée nor
-François des Ygrées, for they ended by marrying. Macarée brought as
-her dot, her money, her beauty and her fatness. François des Ygrées
-offered to Macarée a great name and his noble bearing.</p>
-
-<p>Neither complained of the bargain and they found themselves very
-happy.</p>
-
-<p>"Macarée, my dear wife," said François des Ygrées a few days after
-their marriage, "Why have you ordered so many robes? It seems to me that
-hardly a day passes without some modiste brings new costumes. They do,
-true enough, honor to your taste and to their skill."</p>
-
-<p>Macarée hesitated for a moment and then replied:</p>
-
-<p>"It is to our honeymoon that you refer, François!"</p>
-
-<p>"Our honeymoon, yes, I have thought of it. But where do you want to
-go?"</p>
-
-<p>"To Rome," said Macarée.</p>
-
-<p>"To Rome, like the bells of Easter?"</p>
-
-<p>"I want to see the Pope," said Macarée.</p>
-
-<p>"Very fine, but what for?"</p>
-
-<p>"That he may bless the child who lies under my heart," said
-Macarée.</p>
-
-<p>"Phew-ew-ew!"</p>
-
-<p>"It will be your son," said Macarée.</p>
-
-<p>"You are quite right, Macarée. We shall go to Rome like the bells of
-Easter. You will order a new robe of black velvet; and the dressmaker
-must not neglect to embroider our arms at the bottom of the skirt: of
-<i>azur à trois pairies d'argent posés en pal.</i>"</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="V._PAPACY">V. PAPACY</a></h4>
-
-
-<p><i>Per carita</i>, baroness, (I had almost called you Mademoiselle!)
-Ah! Ah! Ah! But the <i>baron</i>, your husband, he would protest. Ah! ah!
-quite true, you have a little belly which commences to become arrogant.
-They do their work well, I see, in France. Ah! if that fine country would
-only become religious again, the population decimated by anti-clericalism
-would at once, (yes, <i>baroness</i>) the population would increase
-considerably. Ah! dear Christ! how well she listens, the <i>arrogantine</i>,
-when one talks seriously, yes, <i>baroness</i>, you have the air of an
-<i>arrogantine.</i> Ah! ah! ah! so, you want to see the Pope. Ah! ah! ah!
-the benediction of a mere cardinal like me will not do. Ah! ah! tut-tut, I
-understand quite well. Ah! ah! I shall try to obtain an audience for
-you. Oh! no need to thank me, you can let my hand go. How well she
-kisses, the <i>arrogantine</i>, oh! Come here, again, I want you to carry
-away with you a little souvenir of me.</p>
-
-<p>"There! a chain, with the medal of the holy house of Lorette. Let me put
-it about your neck... Now that you have the medal you must promise me
-never to part with it. There, there, there! Come here so that I can kiss
-you on the forehead. Come, come, can she be afraid of me, the little
-<i>arrogantine?</i> Done! Now tell me why you laugh?... Nothing! Well! Now,
-one bit of advice! When you go to the Vatican, I warn you not to use so
-much odour, I mean so much perfume. Goodbye, <i>arrogantine.</i> Come and
-see me again. My compliments to <i>the baron.</i>"</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>It was thus, that, thanks to Cardinal Ricottino, who had been to Paris
-as <i>nuncio</i>, Macarée obtained an audience with the Pope.</p>
-
-<p>She went to the Vatican dressed in her beautiful armorial robe. The
-baron des Ygrées, in full dress, accompanied her. He admired much the
-bearing of the royal guards, and the Swiss mercenaries, inclined to
-drunkenness and brawling, seemed fine devils to him. He found occasion
-to whisper into his wife's ear something about one of his ancestors who
-was a cardinal under Louis XIII...</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>The couple returned to the hotel deeply moved and almost prostrated by
-the benediction of the Pope. They undressed chastely, and in bed, they
-spoke for a long time about the pontiff, the whitened head of the old
-church, a pressed lily, the snow which Catholics think eternal.</p>
-
-<p>"My dear wife," said François des Ygrées finally, "I esteem you to
-adoration, and I love the child whom the Pope has blessed with all my
-heart. May he come, the blessed infant, but I want him to be born in
-France."</p>
-
-<p>"François," said Macarée, "I have never yet been to Monte-Carlo. Let
-us go there! I needn't lose our whole pile. We are not millionaires, but
-I am sure that we shall be lucky in Monte-Carlo."</p>
-
-<p>"Damn! damn! damn!" swore François, "Macarée, you make me see red."</p>
-
-<p>"Ho, there," cried Macarée, "you gave me a kick, you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
-
-<p>"I note with pleasure, Macarée," said François des Ygrées waggishly,
-recovering his good humor, "that you do not forget that I am your
-husband."</p>
-
-<p>"Come, then, li'l nobs, let's go to Monaco."</p>
-
-<p>"Yes, but you must have your confinement in France, for Monaco is an
-independent state."</p>
-
-<p>"Agreed," said Macarée.</p>
-
-<p>On the morrow the baron des Ygrées and the baroness, all swollen by
-mosquito bites, took tickets at the station for Monaco. In the coach
-they laid charming plans.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="VI._GAMBRINUS">VI. GAMBRINUS</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>The baron and the baroness des Ygrées in taking tickets for Monaco had
-thought to arrive at the station which is the fifth on the way from
-Italy to France and the second in the little principality of Monaco.</p>
-
-<p>The name of Monaco is properly the Italian name of this principality,
-although it is widely used nowadays in French, the French terms
-<i>Mourgues</i> and <i>Monéghe</i> having fallen into desuetude.</p>
-
-<p>However the Italians call Monaco, not only the principality which bears
-that name but also the capital of Bavaria which the French call Munich.
-The messenger accordingly gave the baron tickets for Monaco-Munich
-instead of Monaco-principality. Before the baron and the baroness had
-noticed their error they were already at the Swiss frontier, and after
-having recovered from their astonishment, they decided to finish the
-voyage to Munich in order to see at close hand all that the
-anti-artistic spirit of modern Germany could conceive of ugliness in
-architecture, sculpture, painting and the decorative arts...</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>The cold winds of March made the couple shiver in this stone-box
-Athens.</p>
-
-<p>"Beer," the baron des Ygrées had said, "is excellent for women who are
-enceinte."</p>
-
-<p>And so he led his wife to the royal brewery of Pschorr, to the
-Augustinerbräu, to the Münchnerkindl and other great breweries. They
-penetrated to the Nockerberg where there is a great garden. They drank
-there, as long as it held out, the famous March beer, <i>Salvator</i>, and
-it didn't last very long, for the Munich people are great drunkards.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>When the baron and his wife entered the garden they found it thronged
-with a mob of drinkers, who were already under-the-weather and sang head
-to head and danced dizzily, breaking all the empty steins.</p>
-
-<p>Peddlers sold roast fowl, grilled herrings, pretzels, rolls, sausages,
-sweets, souvenirs, post-cards. And there was also Hans Irlbeck, the King
-of Drinkers. Since Perkeo, the midget drunkard of the great cask of
-Heidelberg, no such boozer had ever been seen. At the time of the March
-beer, and in May, Bock-time, Hans Irlbeck drank his forty quarts of beer
-a day. Ordinarily he did not have occasion to drink more than
-twenty-five.</p>
-
-<p>Just as the gracious Ygrées pair passed by, Hans placed his colossal
-buttocks on a bench which, bearing already the weight of some twenty
-huge men and women, cracked disconsolately. The drinkers fell, their
-legs in the air. Some bare thighs could be seen because Munich ladies
-never wear their stockings above their knees. Bursts of laughter
-everywhere. Hans Irlbeck who had also been floored, but had not let go
-of his stein, spilled its contents over the belly of a girl who had
-rolled near him, and the beer bubbling under her resembled that which
-she did when she got to her feet after swallowing a quart at one gulp in
-order to recover her composure.</p>
-
-<p>But the proprietor of the garden cried:</p>
-
-<p>"<i>Donnerkeil!</i> damned swine ... a bench broken."</p>
-
-<p>And he started off with his towel under his arm, calling loudly for the
-waiters:</p>
-
-<p>"Franz! Jacob! Ludwig! Martin!" while the patrons called for the
-proprietor:</p>
-
-<p>"<i>Ober! Ober!</i>"</p>
-
-<p>However the Oberkellner and the waiters did not come back. The drinkers
-crowded about the counters and took their steins themselves, but the
-kegs were no longer emptied, and no more were heard the sonorous blows
-of another cask being put under the hammer. The singing ceased, the
-drinkers, angered, proffered oaths at the brewers and at the March beer
-itself. Some profited by the lull to vomit with violent efforts, their
-eyes almost popping out of their heads; their neighbors encouraged them
-with imperturbable seriousness. Hans Irlbeck who had picked himself up,
-not without difficulty, grumbled with a great snort:</p>
-
-<p>"There is no more beer in Munich!"</p>
-
-<p>And he repeated, with the accent of his native city:</p>
-
-<p>"Minchen! Minchen! Minchen!"</p>
-
-<p>After raising his eyes toward heaven, he fell upon a vendor of fowls,
-and having ordered him to roast a goose for him, began to formulate his
-desires:</p>
-
-<p>"No more beer in Munich... if there were only some white radishes!"</p>
-
-<p>And he repeated many times the Munich expression:</p>
-
-<p>"Raadi, raadi, raadi..."</p>
-
-<p>Suddenly he stopped. The crowd of drinkers, beside themselves, gave a
-cry of exultation. The four waiters had just appeared at the door of the
-brewery. With dignity they were carrying a sort of canopy under which
-the Oberkellner marched proud and erect, like a negro king dethroned.
-Behind him came fresh kegs of beer which were put under the hammer at
-the sound of the bell, while shouts of laughter rang out, and cries and
-songs rose above this teeming butte, hard and agitated as the Adam's
-apple of Gambrinus himself, when, burlesqued in the costume of a monk, a
-white radish in one hand, he tossed off with the other the jug which
-rejoiced his gullet.</p>
-
-<p>And the unborn child found himself right shaken by the laughter of
-Macarée who, greatly amused by the spectacle of this colossal gluttony,
-drank and drank in company with her spouse.</p>
-
-<p>But then, the vivacity of the mother exerted a happy influence on the
-character of the offspring who acquired therefrom much common sense,
-before his birth, and some of the real common sense, of course, which
-great poets are made of.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="VII._CONFINEMENT">VII. CONFINEMENT</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Baron François des Ygrées left Munich when the baroness knew that the
-hour of delivery was approaching. Monsieur des Ygrées did not want to
-have a child born in Bavaria; he was sure that that country was overrun
-with syphilis.</p>
-
-<p>They arrived in the springtime, in the little port of Napoule, which in
-an excellently turned verse the baron baptised for eternity:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Napoule of the golden skies.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>It was there that the delivery of Macarée's child took place.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>"Ah! Ah! Aie! Aie! Aie! Ouh! Ouh! Whee-ee-ee!"</p>
-
-<p>The three local midwives took to improvising pleasantly:</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">FIRST MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>I dream of war.</p>
-
-<p>O my friends, the stars, the bright stars, have you ever counted
-them?</p>
-
-<p>O my friends, do you even remember the titles of all the books you have
-read and the names of their authors?</p>
-
-<p>O my friends, have you ever thought of the poor men who tread the broad
-highways?</p>
-
-<p>The herdsmen of the golden age led their herds to pasture without fear
-that the cattle would flee, they feared only the jungle beasts.</p>
-
-<p>O my friends, what do you think of all these cannons?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">SECOND MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>What do I think of these cannons? They are vigorous phalli.</p>
-
-<p>O my beautiful nights! I am happy because of a sinister horn which
-enchanted me last night, 'tis a good augury. My hair is perfumed with
-abelmosch.</p>
-
-<p>O! the beautiful and rigid phalli that these cannons are! If women had
-to do military service they would all go into the artillery. The sight
-of the cannons in battle would be strange for them.</p>
-
-<p>Lights are born on the sea far off.</p>
-
-<p>Reply, o Zelotide, reply with thy sweet voice.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THIRD MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>I love his eyes at night, he knows my hair well and its odour. In the
-streets of Marseilles an officer pursued me for a long time. He was well
-dressed and of fair colour, there was gold on his costume and his mouth
-tempted me, but I fled his kisses and took refuge in my "bedroom" of the
-"family-house" where I was stopping.<a name="FNanchor_2_1" id="FNanchor_2_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_1" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">FIRST MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>O Zelotide, spare the sad men as thou sparest this beau. Zelotide what
-thinkest thou of the cannons.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">SECOND MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>Alas! Alas! I want to be loved.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THIRD MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>They are the tools of the ignoble love of the people. O Sodom! Sodom. O
-sterile love!</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">FIRST MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>But we are women, why dost thou speak of Sodom?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THIRD MIDWIFE</p>
-
-<p>The fire of heaven devoured her.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE CONFINED</p>
-
-<p>When you have finished your monkey-tricks, if it please you, will you
-not forget to give a little attention to the baroness des Ygrées.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>The baron slept in a corner of the room on several travelling blankets.
-He made a fart which caused his better half to laugh until the tears
-came. Macarée wept, cried, laughed and a few moments later brought into
-the world a sturdy child of the male sex. Then, exhausted by these
-efforts, she rendered up her soul, with a scream that was like the
-ululation of the eternal first wife of Adam, when she crossed the Red
-Sea.</p>
-
-<p>In reporting the above, I believe that I have elucidated the important
-question of the birthplace of Croniamantal. Let the 123 towns in 7
-countries dispute the honor of his birth.<a name="FNanchor_3_1" id="FNanchor_3_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_1" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p>
-
-<p>We know now, and the state records bear testimony that he was born of
-the paternal fart at <i>Napoule of the golden skies</i>, on the 25th of
-August, 1889, but not announced at the mayoralty until the following
-morning.<a name="FNanchor_4_1" id="FNanchor_4_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_1" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p>
-
-<p>It was the year of the Universal Exposition, and the Eiffel Tower,
-which was just born, saluted the heroic birth of Croniamantal with a
-beautiful erection.</p>
-
-<p>The baron des Ygrées made another fart which woke him by the macabre
-bed where the corpse of Macarée reclined. The child cried, the midwives
-croaked, the father sobbed, and declaimed:</p>
-
-<p>"Ah, Napoule with the golden skies, I have killed my hen with the
-golden eyes!"</p>
-
-<p>Then he bathed the new-born calling him by a name which he invented
-forthwith and which did not belong to any saint in Paradise:
-CRONIAMANTAL. He left on the following day, having arranged for the
-funeral of his spouse, written the necessary letters assuring his
-inheritance, and announced the child under the names of
-Gaëtan—Francis—Etienne—Jack—Amélie—Alonso des Ygrées. And
-with this nursling whose putative father he was, he took the train for
-the Principality of Monaco.<a name="FNanchor_5_1" id="FNanchor_5_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_1" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="VIII._MAMMON">VIII. MAMMON</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>A widower, François des Ygrées established himself near the
-principality; on the grounds of Roquebrune; he took pension with a
-family, which included a pretty brunette called Mia. There he reared the
-bearer of his own name with the baby-bottle.</p>
-
-<p>Often he would go out at dawn for a walk at the sea shore. The road was
-fringed with amaryllis which he would always compare involuntarily with
-packages of dried cod. Sometimes, because of the contrary winds, he
-would turn to light an Egyptian cigarette whose smoke rose in spirals
-like the bluish mountains emerging far off in Italy.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>The family in whose bosom he had installed himself was composed of the
-father, the mother and Mia. M. Cecchi, a Corsican, was a croupier at the
-casino. He had previously been croupier at Baden-Baden and had married a
-German woman there. Of this union Mia was born; her carnation tint and
-black hair bespoke her Corsican blood. She was always dressed in buoyant
-colors. Her walk was balanced, her figure arched; she was smaller at the
-breast than at the buttocks, and a touch of strabism lent her dark eyes
-a somewhat distraught look, which only rendered her more tempting.</p>
-
-<p>Her speech was lazy, soft, guttural, but pleasant nevertheless. It was
-the accent of the Monegascans whose syntax Mia followed. After having
-seen the young girl gather roses, François des Ygrées began to take
-notice of her and was much amused by her syntax for whose rules he
-enjoyed making research... First of all, he noticed the italianisms in
-her vocabulary, and especially the habit of conjugating the verb "to be"
-with the wrong auxiliary. For example, Mia would say: "<i>Je suis
-étée</i>," instead of "<i>J'ai été.</i>" He also noted her bizarre way of
-repeating the verb in her principal clause: "I was at the Moulins, while
-you went to Menton, I was;" or better: "This year I am going to the
-gingerbread fair at Nice, I am."</p>
-
-<p>One time before sunrise, François des Ygrées went down to the garden.
-He abandoned himself to sweet reveries, during which he caught cold. All
-of a sudden he began to sneeze about twenty times in succession.</p>
-
-<p>Sneezing aroused him. He saw that the sky had whitened and the horizon
-cleared with the first light of dawn. Then the first shafts of sunlight
-enflamed the sky along the Italian coast. Before him spread the still
-sorrowful sea, and on the horizon, like little clouds above the film of
-sea, could be seen the curving peaks of Corsica, which always
-disappeared after the rising of the sun. The baron des Ygrées shivered,
-then he yawned and stretched himself. He kept on regarding the sea to
-the east where one might have said there glittered a royal navy in sight
-of a seaport with white houses, Bodighère, which furnished palms for
-the festivities of the Vatican. He turned toward the immobile guardian
-of the garden, a great cypress, begirt with a full-blown rose bush which
-clambered up almost to its top. François des Ygrées breathed of the
-sumptuous roses of nonpareil fragrance whose petals, as yet closed, were
-of flesh.</p>
-
-<p>And just then Mia called him to have his breakfast.</p>
-
-<p>With her braid hanging down her back, she had just come to pick some
-figs and she was letting a few creamy drops flow into a pitcher of milk.
-She smiled at François des Ygrées, saying:</p>
-
-<p>"Have you slept well?"</p>
-
-<p>"No, there are too many mosquitoes."</p>
-
-<p>"Don't you know that when you are stung you should rub the place with
-lemon and in order not to be stung by them you should put vaseline on
-your face before going to sleep. They never bite me."</p>
-
-<p>"That would be too bad. For you are very pretty, and ought to be told
-so oftener."</p>
-
-<p>"There are those who tell me so and others who think so without
-telling. Those who tell it to me make me neither hot nor cold, as for the
-others, so much the worse for them..."</p>
-
-<p>And François des Ygrées conceived at once a little fable for the
-timid:</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">FABLE OF THE OYSTER AND THE HERRING</p>
-
-<p>An oyster dwelt, beautiful and wise, on a rock. She never dreamed of
-love but during fine weather simply bayed beatifically at the sun. A
-herring saw her and it was as a spark of powder. He tumbled hopelessly
-in love with her without daring to avow it.</p>
-
-<p>One summer day, happy and coy, the oyster yawned. Smuggled behind a
-rock the herring looked on, but all at once the desire to imprint a kiss
-upon his beloved became so overpowering that he could no longer restrain
-himself.</p>
-
-<p>And so he threw himself between the open shells of the oyster who in
-her surprise shut them with a snap, decapitating the wretched herring,
-whose headless body floats aimlessly upon the ocean.</p>
-
-
-<p>"'Twas so much the worse for the herring," said Mia laughing, "He was
-much too foolish. I too want people to tell me that I am pretty, not for
-fun, but so as we can marry..."</p>
-
-<p>And François des Ygrées noted for future consideration her curious
-peculiarities of syntax: "so as we can marry." ...And he thought
-further: "She doesn't love me. Macarée dead. Mia indifferent. Alas I am
-unhappy in love."</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>One day he found himself in the valley of Gaumates on a little knoll
-covered with skinny little pines. The shore trimmed by the white-blue of
-the waves stretched far out before him. The Casino emerged from the bank
-of splendid trees in its gardens. This palace looked like a man
-squatting and lifting his arms toward heaven. Near it, François des
-Ygrées hearkened to an invisible Mammon:</p>
-
-<p>"Regard this palace, François, it is made in the image of man. It is
-sociable like him. It loves those who come to it and especially, those
-who are unhappy in love. Go there and thou wilt win, for thou canst not
-lose in play, since thou hast lost all in love."</p>
-
-<p>Since it was six o'clock, the angelus tinkled from the different
-churches in the neighborhood. The voice of the bells prevailed against
-the voice of the invisible Mammon, who became silent, while François
-des Ygrées searched for him.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>On the next day, François took the road to the temple of Mammon. It was
-Palm Sunday. The streets were littered with children, young girls and
-women carrying palms and olive-branches. The palms were either very
-simple or woven in a peculiar fashion. At each corner of the street, the
-weavers of palms were sitting against the wall, working. Under their
-deft hands the palm fibers bent, circled bizarrely and charmingly. The
-children were playing about already with hard eggs. On a square a troop
-of urchins were pummelling a red-headed kid whom they had found trying
-to consume a marble egg. Very small girls were going to mass, well
-dressed and carrying like candles the woven palms in which their mothers
-had hung sweet-meats.</p>
-
-<p>François des Ygrées thought:</p>
-
-<p>"The sight of these palms brings good luck and today, which is gay
-Easter, I shall break the bank."</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>In the game hall, he regarded at first the diverse throng which pressed
-about the tables...</p>
-
-<p>François des Ygrées approached a table and played. He lost. The
-invisible Mammon had come back and spoke sharply each time they erased a
-deal:</p>
-
-<p>"Thou hast lost!"</p>
-
-<p>And François saw the crowd no more, his head was turning, he placed
-louis, packages of bills, on one square, diagonally, transversally. He
-played a long time losing as much as he wanted to.</p>
-
-<p>He turned away at last and saw the whole brilliant hall where the
-players still pressed about the tables as before. Noticing a young man
-whose chagrined face revealed that he had had no luck, François smiled
-at him and asked whether he had lost.</p>
-
-<p>The young man replied angrily:</p>
-
-<p>"You too? A Russian just won more than two hundred thousand francs by
-my side. Ah! if I only had a hundred francs more, I would make up what I
-have lost twenty or thirty times over. But Oh, I have beastly luck, I am
-hoodooed, done for. Imagine..."</p>
-
-<p>And taking François by the arm, he led him toward a divan on which they
-sat down.</p>
-
-<p>"Imagine," he continued, "I have lost everything. I am almost a thief.
-The money I have lost did not belong to me. I am not rich, I had a
-position of trust. My employer sent me to recover claims in Marseilles.
-I got them. I took the train to come here and try my luck. I lost. What
-is there left? They will arrest me. They will say that I am a dishonest
-man, even though I haven't ever profited of the money I took. I have
-lost all. If I had won, no one would have reproached me. What luck I
-have! There is nothing for me to do but to kill myself."</p>
-
-<p>And suddenly rising the young man put a revolver to his mouth and fired.
-The corpse was carried away. Several players turned their heads a
-moment, but none of them bothered at all, and most of them took no
-notice of the incident which, however, made a profound impression on the
-mind of the baron des Ygrées. He had lost all that Macarée had left
-him and the child. As he went out François felt the whole universe
-contract about him like a tiny cell, and then like a coffin. He got back
-to the villa where he lived. At the door he passed Mia who was chatting
-with a stranger who carried a valise.</p>
-
-<p>"I am a Hollander," said the man, "but I live in Provence and I would
-like to hire a room for several days; I have come here to make some
-mathematical observations."</p>
-
-<p>At this moment the baron des Ygrées sent a kiss with his left hand to
-Mia, while with a revolver in his right he blew his brains out and
-rolled in the dust.</p>
-
-<p>"We have only one room to rent," said Mia, "but it has just become
-free."</p>
-
-<p>And she quickly closed the eyelids of the baron des Ygrées, gave cries
-of grief, and aroused the neighborhood.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>As to the young child, whom his father had in such a characteristic
-burst of lyricism named for aye Croniamantal, he was gathered up by the
-Dutch traveller who soon carried him off to bring him up as his own
-son.</p>
-
-<p>On the day they left, Mia sold her virginity to a millionaire
-trap-shooting-champion, and it was the thirty-fifth time that she had
-lent herself to this little commercial transaction.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
-<img src="images/apollinaire03.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
-<p class="center">André Dérain</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="IX._PEDAGOGY">IX. PEDAGOGY</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>The Dutchman, named Janssen, led Croniamantal to the region of Aix,
-where there was a house which the people of the neighborhood called le
-Chateau. Le Chateau had nothing lordly about it other than its name and
-was nothing but a vast domicile having a dairy and a stable.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Janssen possessed a modest income and lived alone in this dwelling
-which he had bought in order to live in solitude, a suddenly broken off
-betrothal having rendered him rather hypochondriac. He devoted all his
-energies now to the education of the son of Macarée and Vierselin
-Tigoboth: Croniamantal, heir of the old name of des Ygrées.</p>
-
-<p>The Dutchman, Janssen, had travelled much. He spoke all the languages
-of Europe, Arabian, and Turkish, not to mention Hebrew and other dead
-languages. His speech was as clear as his blue eyes. He soon made the
-friendship of several scholars of Aix whom he would visit from time to
-time and he corresponded with many foreign scientists.</p>
-
-<p>When Croniamantal was six years of age, Mr. Janssen would often take
-him to the country. Croniamantal came to love these lessons along the
-paths of wooded hills. Mr. Janssen would often stop and show Croniamantal
-the birds hopping about or butterflies pursuing each other and fluttering
-together among the wild rose-bushes. He would say that love reigned over
-all of Nature. They would also go out on moonlit nights and the master
-would explain to his pupil the hidden destinies of the heavenly bodies,
-their regular course, and their effects upon the life of man.</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal never forgot how one moonlit night his master led him to a
-field at the edge of a forest; the grass bubbled with milky light.
-Fireflies fluttered around them; their phosphorescent and jagged lights
-gave the site a strange aspect. The master called the attention of his
-disciple to the sweetness of this May night.</p>
-
-<p>"Learn," he said, "learn to know all of Nature and to love her. Let her
-be your veritable nurse, whose salutary mammals are the moon and the
-hills."</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal was thirteen years of age at this time and his mind was
-quite ripe. He listened attentively to Mr. Janssen's words.</p>
-
-<p>"I have always lived in her, but I must say, lived badly, for one
-should not live without human love as companion. Do not forget that all is
-a sign of love in Nature. I, alas! am damned for not having observed this
-law whose demands nothing can withstand."</p>
-
-<p>"What," said Croniamantal, "you, my teacher, who know so many sciences
-did not recognize this law which every country lout and even the
-animals, the vegetables, and inert matter observe?"</p>
-
-<p>"Happy child who at your age can put such questions!" said Mr. Janssen.
-"I have always known that law, from which no human being should rebel.
-But there are some luckless men destined never to know the joys of love.
-That often happens to poets and scientists. Their souls are vagabond; I
-am always conscious of existences preceding my own. This knowledge has
-never stirred any but the sterile bodies of scientists. (You should not
-be astonished in the least at what I say.) Whole races respect animals
-and proclaim the principle of metempsychosis, a most worthy belief,
-self-evident but fantastical, since it takes no account of lost forms
-and of their inevitable dispersion. Their worship should have extended
-to the vegetable kingdom and to minerals. For what is the dust of roads
-but the ashes of the dead? It is true that the Ancients did not concede
-life to inert matter. But rabbis believed that the same soul inhabited
-the body of Adam, Moses and David. In fact, the name, Adam, is composed
-in Hebrew of the letters Aleph, Daleth and Mem, the first letters of the
-three names. Your soul like mine, inhabited other human forms, other
-animals, or was dispersed and will continue so after your death, since
-all things must serve again. For perhaps there is nothing new any more,
-and creation has ceased, perhaps... I affirm that I have not desired
-love, but I swear that I would not begin such a life over again. I have
-mortified my flesh and suffered severe punishment. I should like your
-life to be happy."</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal's master made him devote most of his time to the sciences,
-keeping him au courant with all recent inventions. He also instructed
-the boy in Latin and Greek. They often read the Eclogues of Virgil or
-translated Theocritus in an olive grove. Croniamantal had learned a very
-pure French, but his master taught him in Latin. He also taught him
-Italian, and at an early age Croniamantal received the poems of
-Petrarch, who became one of his favorite poets. Mr. Janssen also taught
-Croniamantal English, and made him familiar with Shakespeare. Above all
-he gave the boy a taste for old French authors. Among the French poets
-he admired chiefly Villon, Ronsard and his pléiade, Racine and La
-Fontaine. He also made him read translations of Cervantes and of Goethe.
-On his advice, Croniamantal read the romances of chivalry which might
-have made part of the library of Don Quixote. They developed in
-Croniamantal an unquenchable thirst for experiment and perilous love
-adventures; he devoted himself to fencing and to horseback riding; at
-the age of fifteen he declared to anyone who came to visit them that he
-had decided to become a celebrated and peerless cavalier, and already he
-dreamed of a mistress.</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal was, at this time, a handsome youth, thin and straight.
-The girls at the village fêtes, when he touched them lightly, would stifle
-little bursts of laughter and redden, lowering their eyes under his
-regard. Habituated to poetic forms, his mind thought of love as a
-conquest. Thoughts of Boccacio, his natural daring, his education,
-everything disposed him to take the final step.</p>
-
-<p>One May day, he went out for a long ride. It was morning, everything
-was still fresh. The dew hung from the flowers of the hedges, and on
-either side of the road stretched the fields of olive trees whose gray
-leaves trembled gently in the sea breeze and compared agreeably with the
-blue sky. He arrived at a place where the road was being mended. The road
-menders, handsome boys in bright colored caps, worked lazily, singing
-the while, and stopping occasionally to drink from their flasks.
-Croniamantal thought that these handsome fellows had sweethearts. It is
-thus that they call a lover in that country. The boys say "my
-sweetheart," the girls, "my sweetheart," and in fact they are both sweet
-in that lovely country. Croniamantal's heart leaped and his whole being,
-exalted by the springtime and the riding, cried for love.</p>
-
-<p>At a turn in the road, an apparition increased his trouble. He arrived
-close to a little bridge thrown across a river which cut the road. The
-place was isolated, and across the hedges and the trunks of poplars, he
-saw two beautiful girls bathing, quite naked. One was in the water and
-held herself up by a branch. He admired her brown arms and abundant
-beauties, hardly concealed by the water. The other, standing on the
-bank, dried herself after her bath and exposed ravishing lines and
-graces which inflamed the heart of Croniamantal; he decided to join them
-and mingle in their pleasures. Unluckily, he perceived in the branches
-of a neighboring tree two youths spying on this prey. Holding their
-breath and watching the least movements of the bathers, they did not see
-the equestrian, who, laughing uproariously, threw his horse into a
-gallop and cried aloud as he crossed the little bridge.</p>
-
-<p>The sun had risen almost to its zenith and was now darting its dreadful
-rays. An ardent thirst added itself to the amorous inquietudes of
-Croniamantal. The sight of a farm along the road brought him unspeakable
-joy. He arrived at a little orchard whose blossoming trees made a lovely
-sight. It was a little wood, rose and white with the cherry and peach
-blossoms. On the fence linen was drying and he had the pleasure of
-seeing a charming peasant girl of about sixteen, at work washing clothes
-in a vat in the shadow of a fig-tree that had just begun to bloom. Not
-having noticed his arrival, she continued to accomplish her domestic
-function which he found noble; for, his imagination full of memories of
-antiquity, he compared her to Nausica. Descending from his horse he
-approached and contemplated the young girl with ravishment. He looked at
-her back. Her folded up skirt discovered a well made leg in a very white
-stocking. Her body moved in a manner that was pleasantly exciting
-because of the efforts occasioned by the soaping. Her sleeves were
-rolled up and he observed her pretty brown plump arms, which enchanted
-him.</p>
-
-
-<p>I have always loved beautiful arms particularly. There are people who
-attach great importance to the perfection of the foot. I admit that they
-touch me too, but the arm is to my mind that which should be most
-perfect in woman. It is always in motion, one always has one's eye upon
-it. One might say that it is the veritable organ of the graces, and that
-by its deft movements, it is the veritable arm of Love, since when
-curved, this delicate arm resembles a bow, and when extended, the arrow
-thereof.</p>
-
-
-<p>This was also Croniamantal's point of view. He was thinking of this,
-when his horse, who suddenly remembered that it was the habitual hour
-for being fed, began to whinny. At once the young girl turned and showed
-surprise at seeing a stranger regarding her from above the fence. She
-blushed and only seemed the more charming. Her dusky skin attested to
-the Moorish blood that flowed in her veins. Croniamantal asked her for
-food and drink. With much good grace this sweet girl did have him enter
-the house and served him a rude repast. With some milk, eggs, and black
-bread, his thirst and his hunger were soon sated. In the meantime, he
-questioned his young hostess, in the hope of finding an opportunity for
-paying her gallant compliments. He learned that her name was Mariette,
-and that her parents had gone to the neighboring town to sell
-vegetables; her brother was working on the road. This family lived
-happily on the products of the orchard and the barnyard.</p>
-
-<p>At this moment, her parents, fine looking peasants, returned, and there
-was Croniamantal already in love with Mariette, quite disappointed. He
-paid the mother for the meal, and went off, after having given Mariette
-a long look which she did not return, but he had the satisfaction of
-seeing her blush as she turned away.</p>
-
-<p>He mounted his horse and took the road to his house. Being for the
-first time in his life, sad for love, he found extreme melancholy in this
-same countryside which he had previously traversed. The sun had dropped
-low over the horizon. The grey leaves of the olive trees seemed as sad as
-himself. The shadows stretched out like waves. The river where he had
-seen the bathers was abandoned. The lapping of the water became
-unbearable for him, like a mockery. He threw his horse into a gallop.
-Then there was the dusk, lights appearing in the distance. Then night
-came; he slowed up his horse and abandoned himself to a disordered
-revelry. The sloping road was bordered with cypresses, and it was thus,
-somnolent with the night and with love, that Croniamantal pursued his
-melancholy way.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>His master soon noticed in the days that followed that he gave no more
-attention to the studies to which he had been wont to apply himself with
-such diligence. He divined that this disgust came of love.</p>
-
-<p>His respect was mingled with a little scorn because Mariette was
-nothing but a simple peasant girl.</p>
-
-<p>The end of September had been reached, and one day Mr. Janssen led
-Croniamantal out under the laden olive trees in the orchard and censured
-his disciple for his passion, the latter hearkening to his reproaches
-with ruddy embarrassment. The first winds of autumn complained in the
-fields and Croniamantal, very sad and much ashamed, lost forever his
-desire to see again the pretty Mariette and kept nothing but the memory
-of her.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>And so Croniamantal attained his majority.</p>
-
-<p>A disease of the heart which was discovered in him led to his dismissal
-by the military authorities. Soon after, his guardian died suddenly,
-leaving him by will the little which he possessed. And after having sold
-the house called <i>le Chateau</i>, Croniamantal went to Paris to give
-himself freely to his taste for literature; he had been for some time
-past composing poems secretly and accumulating them in an old
-cigar-box.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="X._POETRY">X. POETRY</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>In the early days of the year 1911, a young man who was very badly
-dressed went running up the rue Houdon. His extremely mobile countenance
-seemed to be filled with joy and anxiety by turns. His eyes devoured all
-that they saw and when his eyelids snapped shut quickly like jaws, they
-gulped in the universe, which renewed itself incessantly by the mere
-operation of him who ran. He imagined to the tiniest details the
-enormous worlds pastured in himself. The clamour and the thunder of
-Paris burst from afar and about the young man, who stopped, and panted
-like some criminal who has been too long pursued and is ready to
-surrender himself. This clamour, this noise indicated clearly that his
-enemies were about to track him like a thief. His mouth and his gaze
-expressed the ruse he was employing, and walking slowly now, he took
-refuge in his memory, and went forward, while all the forces of his
-destiny and of his consciousness retarded the time when the truth should
-appear of that which is, that which was, and of that which is to be.</p>
-
-<p>The young man entered a one story house. On the open door was a
-placard:</p>
-
-
-<p class="center"><i>Entrance to the Studios</i></p>
-
-
-<p>He followed a corridor where it was so dark and so cold that he had the
-feeling of having died, and with all his will, clenching his fists and
-gritting his teeth he began to take eternity to bits. Then suddenly he
-was conscious again of the motion of time whose seconds, hammered by a
-clock, fell like pieces of broken glass, while life flowed in him again
-with the renewed passage of time. But as he stopped to rap at a door,
-his heart beat more strongly again, for fear of finding no one home.</p>
-
-<p>He rapped at the door and cried:</p>
-
-<p>"It is I, Croniamantal!"</p>
-
-<p>And behind the door the heavy steps of a man who seemed tired, or
-carried too weighty a burden, came slowly, and as the door opened there
-took place in the sudden light the creation of two beings and their
-instant marriage.</p>
-
-<p>In the studio, which looked like a barn, an innumerable herd flowed in
-dispersion: they were the sleeping pictures, and the herdsman who tended
-them smiled at his friend. Upon a carpenter's table piles of yellow
-books could be likened to mounds of butter. And pushing back the
-ill-joined door, the wind brought in unknown beings who complained with
-little cries in the name of all the sorrows. All the wolves of distress
-howled behind the door ready to devour the flock, the herdsman and his
-friend, in order to prepare in their place the foundations for the NEW
-CITY. But in the studio there were joys of all colours. A great window
-opened the whole north side and nothing could be seen but the whole blue
-sky, the song of a woman. Croniamantal took off his coat which fell to
-the floor like the corpse of a drowned man, and sitting on the divan he
-gazed for a long time at the new canvas placed on the support. Dressed
-in a blue wrap, barefooted, the painter also regarded the picture in
-which two women remembered themselves in a glacial mist.</p>
-
-<p>The studio contained another fatal object, a large piece of broken
-mirror hooked to the wall. It was a dead and soundless sea, standing on
-end, and at the bottom of which a false life animated what did not
-exist. Thus, confronting Art, there is the appearance of Art, against
-which men are not sufficiently on their guard, and which pulls them to
-earth when Art has raised them to the heights. Croniamantal bent over in
-a sitting posture, leaned his fore-arms on his knees, and turned his
-eyes from the painting to a placard thrown on the floor on which was
-painted the following announcement:</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">I AM AT THE BAR&mdash;<i>The Bird of Benin</i></p>
-
-
-<p>He read and re-read this sentence while the Bird of Benin contemplated
-his picture, approaching it and withdrawing from it, his head at all
-angles. Finally he turned towards Croniamantal and said:</p>
-
-<p>"I saw the woman for you last night."</p>
-
-<p>"Who is she?" asked Croniamantal.</p>
-
-<p>"I do not know, I saw her but I do not know her. She is a really young
-girl, as you like them. She has the sombre and child-like face of those
-who are destined to cause suffering. And despite all the grace of her
-hands that straighten in order to repel, she lacks that nobility which
-poets could not love because it would prevent their being miserable. I
-have seen the woman for you, I tell you. She is both beauty and
-ugliness; she is like everything that we love nowadays. And she must
-have the taste of the laurel leaf."</p>
-
-<p>But Croniamantal, who was not listening to him, interrupted at this
-point to say:</p>
-
-<p>"Yesterday I wrote my last poem in regular verses:</p>
-
-
-<p class="center"><i>Well,</i><br /></p>
-<p class="center"><i>Hell!</i><a name="FNanchor_6_1" id="FNanchor_6_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_1" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p>
-
-
-<p>and my last poem in irregular verses (take care that in the second
-stanza the word wench is taken in its less reputable meaning):</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">PROSPECTUS FOR A NEW MEDICINE</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Why did Hjalmar return</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The tankard of beaten silver lay void,</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The stars of the evening</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Became the stars of the morning</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Reciprocally</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The sorceress of the forest of Hruloë</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Prepared her repast</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>She was an eater of horse-flesh</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>But he was not</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Mai Mai ramaho nia nia.</i></span><br />
-<br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Then the stars of the morning</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Became again the stars of the evening</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And reciprocally</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>They cried&mdash;In the name of Maröe</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Wench of Arnamoer</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And of his favorite zoöphyte</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Prepare the drink of the gods</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>&mdash;Certainly noble warrior</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Mai Mai ramaho nia nia.</i></span><br />
-<br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>She took the sun</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And plunged him into the sea</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>As housewives</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Dip a ham in gravy</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>But alas! the salmons voracious</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Have devoured the drowned sun</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And have made themselves wigs</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>With his beams</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Mai Mai ramaho nia nia.</i></span><br />
-<br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>She took the moon and did her all with bands</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>As they do with the illustrious dead</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And with little children</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And then in the light of the only stars</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The eternal ones</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>She made a concoction of sea-brine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The euphorbiaceans of Norwegian resin</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And the mucous of Alfes</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>To make a drink for the gods</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Mai Mai ramaho nia nia.</i></span><br />
-<br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>He died like the sun</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And the sorceress perched at the top of a fir pine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Heard until evening</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The rumours of the great winds engulfed in the phial</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>And the lying scaldas swear to this</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Mai Mai ramaho nia nia.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>Croniamantal was silent for an instant and then added:</p>
-
-<p>"I shall from now on write only poetry free from all restrictions even
-that of language.<a name="FNanchor_7_1" id="FNanchor_7_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_1" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p>
-
-<p>"Listen, old man!"</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 18em;"><b>MAHEVIDANOMI</b></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><b>RENANOCALIPNODITOC</b></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><b>EXTARTINAP # v.s.</b></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><b>A. Z.</b></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">Telephone: 33-122 Pan : Pan</span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 19em;">OeaoiiiioKTin</span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;">iiiiiiiiiiii</span></p>
-
-
-<p>"Your last line, my poor Croniamantal," said the Bird of Benin, "is a
-simple plagiarism from Fr.nc.s J.mm.s."</p>
-
-<p>"That is not true," said Croniamantal. "But I shall compose no more
-pure poetry. That is what I have come to, through your fault. I want to
-write plays."</p>
-
-<p>"You had better go to see the young woman of whom I spoke to you. She
-knows you and seems to be crazy about you. You will find her in the
-Meudon woods next Thursday at a place that I shall designate. You will
-recognize her by the skipping rope that she will hold in her hand. Her
-name is Tristouse Ballerinette."</p>
-
-<p>"Very well," said Croniamantal, "I shall go to see Ballerinette and
-shall sleep with her, but above all I want to go to the theatres to
-offer my play, Ieximal Jelimite, which I wrote in your studio last year
-while eating lemons."</p>
-
-<p>"Do what you want, my friend," said the Bird of Benin, "but do not
-forget Tristouse Ballerinette, the woman of your future."</p>
-
-<p>"Well said," said Croniamantal. "But I want to roar to you once more
-the plot of Ieximal Jelimite. Listen:</p>
-
-<p>"A man buys a newspaper on the seashore. From the garden of a house at
-one side emerges a soldier whose hands are electric bulbs. A giant 10
-feet tall descends from a tree. He shakes the newspaper vendor, who is
-of plaster and who in falling breaks to bits. At this moment a judge
-arrives. With strokes of a razor he kills everybody, while a leg which
-passes hopping crushes the judge with a kick in the nose, and sings a
-pretty little song."</p>
-
-<p>"How wonderful!" said the Bird of Benin. "I shall paint the decoration,
-you have promised me that."</p>
-
-<p>"That goes without saying," answered Croniamantal.<a name="FNanchor_8_1" id="FNanchor_8_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_1" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XI._DRAMATURGY">XI. DRAMATURGY</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>On the following day Croniamantal went to The Theatre, which was
-meeting at Monsieur Pingu's, the financier. Croniamantal succeeded in
-gaining entry by bribing the doorman and the butler. He entered boldly the
-hall where The Theatre, its satellites, its stool-pigeons and its hired
-thugs were gathered.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Ladies and Gentlemen of THE THEATRE, I have come to read you my play
-entitled <i>Ieximal Jelimite.</i></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE THEATRE</p>
-
-<p>Good gracious, wait a minute, young man, until you have been informed
-about our methods of procedure. You are here in the midst of our actors,
-our authors, our critics and our spectators. Listen attentively and
-don't even speak.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Gentlemen, I thank you for the cordial reception that you give me and I
-shall profit, I am sure, of all that I hear.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE ACTOR</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>My rôles have slowly withered like the roses</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>But mother, I love my metempsychoses</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>O seats of proteus and their metamorphoses</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">AN OLD STAGE MANAGER</p>
-
-<p>Do you remember, Madame! One snowy night of 1832, a lost stranger
-knocked at the door of a villa situated on the road leading from
-Chanteboun to Sorrento...</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE CRITIC</p>
-
-<p>Nowadays, for a play to be successful it is important that it should
-not be signed by its author.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE TRAINER TO HIS BEAR</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Roll about in the sweet peas</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Play dead... suckle...</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Dance the polka... now the mazurka...</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CHORUS OF DRINKERS</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Juice o' the grape</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Ruddy liquor</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Let us drink drink</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>If we may</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CHORUS OF EATERS</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Horde of gluttons</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>There's no more</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>A crumb left</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>In the plate</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">DRINKERS</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Bloated heads</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Drink o drink</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>The juice o' the grape</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 15em;">R.D.RD K.PL.NG, THE ACTOR, THE ACTRESS,</span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21.5em;">THE AUTHORS</span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 21.5em;">(To the spectators)</span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay! Pay!</span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE PROMPTER</p>
-
-<p>The theatre, my dear brothers, is a school for scandal, it is a place
-of perdition for the soul and the body. According to the testimony of the
-stage carpenters everything is faked in the theatre. Witches older than
-Morgane come there to pose as little girls of fifteen years.</p>
-
-<p>How much blood is spilt in a melodrama! I say truthfully, though it be
-false, this blood will be upon the heads of the children of the authors,
-the actors, the directors, and the spectators, unto the seventh
-generation. <i>Ne mater suam</i>, the little girls used to say to their
-mothers. Nowadays they ask: "Are we going to the theatre tonight?"</p>
-
-<p>I tell you frankly my friends. There are few shows which do not
-endanger the soul. Outside of the spectacle of nature I know of nothing
-that one may witness without fear. This last spectacle is Gallic and
-healthy, my dear friends. The sound dilates the glands, chases Satan from
-the stinking shades where he lies and thus the Fathers come in from the
-desert to exorcise themselves.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE MOTHER OF AN ACTRESS</p>
-
-<p>Are you p..., Charlotte?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE ACTRESS</p>
-
-<p>No, mama, I am roasting.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">M. MAURICE BOISSARD</p>
-
-<p>We have with us today the entrails of a mother!</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">AN AUTHOR WHO HAS A PLAY ACCEPTED
-BY THE COMEDIE-FRANÇAISE</p>
-
-<p>My friend, you do not look very confident today. I am going to explain
-the meaning of several words from the theatrical vocabulary. Listen
-attentively and remember them if you can.</p>
-
-<p><i>Acheron</i> (ch hard)&mdash;A river of Hades, not of hell.</p>
-
-<p><i>Artists</i> (two types)&mdash;Is never used except in speaking of a
-comedian or a comedienne.</p>
-
-<p><i>Brother</i>&mdash;Avoid using this substantive together with
-"little." The adjective "young" is more proper.</p>
-
-<p>NOTA BENE&mdash;This phrase does not apply to operettas.</p>
-
-<p>"<i>High Life</i>"&mdash;This very French expression is translated in
-English as "<i>fashionable people.</i>"</p>
-
-<p><i>Liaisons</i>&mdash;They are always dangerous in the theatre.</p>
-
-<p><i>Papa</i>&mdash;Two negatives are equal to an affirmative.</p>
-
-<p><i>Cooked Potatoes</i>&mdash;(never used in the singular)&mdash;A crudity
-that is deleterious to the stomach.</p>
-
-<p><i>Tut-tut</i>&mdash;This worn expression...</p>
-
-<p>Would you like to have some titles for plays also? They are very
-important in order to succeed. Here are some sure ones:</p>
-
-<p>THE CONTOUR; <i>The Circumference</i>; THE CONDOR; <i>Hurry up Harry</i>;
-THE TOWER; <i>Louise, your shirt is coming out</i>; STEP ALONG; <i>The
-Mysterious Bar</i>; HUNDREDTH TO THE RIGHT; <i>The Magician</i>; THE GUELF;
-<i>I am going to kill you</i>; MY PRINCE; <i>The Artichoke</i>; THE SCHOOL
-FOR LAWYERS; <i>The Torch-bearer!</i></p>
-
-<p>Good-bye, sir, don't thank me.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">A GREAT CRITIC</p>
-
-<p>Gentlemen, I have come to give you a report of the triumph, last night.
-Are you ready? I begin:</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">GRIT AND GRIP</p>
-
-<p>A play in three acts by Messrs. Julien Tandis, Jean de la Fente,
-Prosper Mordus and Mmes Nathalie de l'Angoumois, Jane Fontaine and the
-countess M. Des Etangs, etc. Sets by Messrs. Alfred Mone, Leon Minie, Al.
-de Lemere. Costumes by Jeanette, hats by Wilhelmine, properties by the
-MacTead Company, phonographs by Hernstein and Company, sanitary napkins
-by Van Feuler Brothers.</p>
-
-<p>I recall the captive who dared to p... before Sesostris. I never saw a
-more poignant scene than this from the play of Messrs, and Mmes etc. I
-must speak of the scene which made such a great hit at the opening night
-and in which the financier Prominoff bursts into a fit of rage against
-the coroner.</p>
-
-<p>The play, which was very good, otherwise, did not accomplish all that
-was expected of it. The courtesan wife who feathers her nest out of the
-green old age of a vulgar brewer, remains, however, an unforgettable and
-touching figure which leaves in the shadow that of Cleopatra and Mme de
-Pompadour. M. Layol is an excellent comedian. He acted the father of a
-family in every sense of the expression. Mlle Jeannine Letrou, a young
-star of tomorrow, has very pretty legs. But the real revelation was Mme
-Perdreau whose sensitive nature we know so well. She acted the scene of
-the reconciliation with the most perfect naturalism. In short a great
-evening and prospects for a hundred night run.<a name="FNanchor_9_1" id="FNanchor_9_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_1" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE THEATRE</p>
-
-<p>Young man we are going to give some subjects for plays. If they were
-signed by famous names we would play them, but they are masterpieces by
-unknowns which were given to us and which we are generously turning over
-to you because of your nice face.</p>
-
-
-<p>PLAY WITH A THESIS&mdash;The prince of San Meco finds a louse on his
-wife's head and makes a scene. The princess has not slept with the
-viscount of Dendelope for the past six months. The couple make a scene
-before the viscount, who, not having slept with anyone but the princess
-and Mme Lafoulue, wife of a Secretary of State, causes the ministry to
-fall and overwhelms Mme Lafoulue with his scorn.</p>
-
-<p>Mme Lafoulue makes a scene with her husband. Everything becomes clear,
-however, when Monsieur Bibier, the Deputy, arrives. He scratches his
-head. He is stripped. He accuses his electors of being lousy. Finally
-everything is in order once more. Title: <i>Parliamentarism.</i></p>
-
-
-<p>COMEDY OF MANNERS&mdash;Isabelle Lefaucheux promises her husband that
-she will be faithful to him. Then she remembers that she has promised the
-same thing to Jules, the boy who works in their store. She suffers from
-not being able to grant her faith and her love.</p>
-
-<p>However, Lefaucheux fires Jules. This event precipitates a dramatic
-triumph of love, and we soon find Isabelle cashier in a department store
-where Jules is salesman. Title: <i>Isabelle Lefaucheux.</i></p>
-
-
-<p>HISTORICAL PLAY&mdash;The famous novelist Stendhal is the ringleader of
-a Bonapartist plot which ends in the heroic death of a young singer during
-a presentation of <i>Don Juan</i> at the Scala Theatre in Milan. Since
-Stendhal had hidden his identity under a pseudonym, he withdraws from
-the affair admirably. Grand marches, procession of historical
-personages.</p>
-
-
-<p>OPERA&mdash;Buridan's ass hesitates to satisfy his hunger and his
-thirst. The she-ass of Balaam prophesies that the ass will die. The golden
-ass comes, eats and drinks. The Wild-Ass's-Skin comes and displays his
-nudity to this asinine herd. Passing by, Sancho's ass thinks that he can
-prove his robustness by carrying off the child, but the traitor, Melo,
-warns the Genius of la Fontaine. He proclaims his jealousy and beats the
-golden ass. Metamorphoses. The Prince and the Infant make their entrance
-on horseback. The King abdicates in their favor.</p>
-
-
-<p>PATRIOTIC PLAY&mdash;The Swedish government lays suit against the French
-Government for manufacturing an imitation of "Swedish matches." In the
-last act they exhume the remains of an alchemist of the XIVth Century
-who invented these matches, at La Ferté-Gaucher, a village in France,
-not far from Paris.</p>
-
-
-<p>COMEDY&mdash;&mdash;</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The handsome chauffeur</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Cried to his neighbor</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>If you will show me your salon</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>I wilt show you my kitchen.</i></span></p>
-
-<p>Here is enough to nourish a whole career of playwriting, sir.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">M. LACOUFF, SCHOLAR</p>
-
-<p>Young man, it is also important to know theatrical anecdotes; they help
-to fill out the conversation of a young dramatic author; here are a
-few:</p>
-
-<p>Frederick the Great was accustomed to having his court actresses
-whipped before each presentation. He believed that flagellation
-communicated a rosy tint to their skin which was not without its charm.</p>
-
-<p>At the court of the Grand Turk, the <i>Bourgeois Gentilhomme</i> was
-being played, but in order to adapt it to the taste of the environment the
-<i>mamamouchi</i> became a Knight of the Garter.<a name="FNanchor_10_1" id="FNanchor_10_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_1" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p>
-
-<p>Cecile Vestris, while returning to Mayence, one day, had her carriage
-held up by the famous Rhenish bandit Schinderhans. She rallied her
-spirits against this ill-fortune and danced for Schinderhans in the hall
-of a roadside tavern.</p>
-
-<p>Ibsen was sleeping one time with a young Spanish lady who cried out at
-the proper moment:</p>
-
-<p>"Now!... now!... Mr. Dramatist!"</p>
-
-<p>An erudite actor admitted to me that he had liked only one statue in
-all his life: <i>The Squatting Scribe</i>, sculptured by an Egyptian, long
-before Jesus-Christ, and which he saw in the Louvre. But they are
-beginning to talk much less of Scribe, and yet he still reigns over the
-theatre.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE THEATRE</p>
-
-<p>Do not forget the final scene, nor the words at the end, nor the fact
-that the more crust you have the more you shine, nor that a number that
-is cited must end in 7 or 3 in order to seem accurate; nor not to lend
-money to anybody who says: "I have five acts at the Odéon," or "I have
-three acts at the Comédie-Française," nor to say carelessly: "If you
-want some free passes, I have so many of them, that I am obliged to give
-them to my concierge;" that doesn't lead to anything.</p>
-
-
-<p>A young man at this point made good the occasion to come and sing with
-equivocal gestures and a lascivious air, some childish and entrancing
-songs.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">M. PINGU</p>
-
-<p>What juice, sir!</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">M. LACOUFF</p>
-
-<p>Juice of the hat?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">M. PINGU</p>
-
-<p>No-no! I am mistaken. What a fluid!</p>
-
-<p>He trembles like the paunch of an archbishop.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">M. LACOUFF</p>
-
-<p>Use the proper word, not your paunch.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">M. PINGU</p>
-
-<p>What a joy, sir, what a joy! It would soften a crocodile to tears and
-would please a scholar as well as a financier.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Good-bye, gentlemen, I am your devoted servant. With your permission I
-will return in a few days. I feel that my play is not in proper shape
-yet.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
-<img src="images/apollinaire04.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
-<p class="center">André Dérain</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XII._LOVE">XII. LOVE</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>On a spring morning, Croniamantal, following the instructions of the
-Bird of Benin, reached the Meudon woods and stretched himself out in the
-shade of a tree whose branches hung very low.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>God I am tired, not of walking but of being alone. I am thirsty&mdash;not
-for wine, hydromel or beer, but for water, fresh water from that lovely
-wood where the grass and the trees are rose at every dawn, but where no
-spring arrests the progress of the parched traveller. The walk has
-sharpened my appetite; I am hungry, though not for the flesh nor for
-fruit, but for bread, good solid bread, swollen like mammals, bread,
-round as the moon and gilded as she.</p>
-
-
-<p>He arose then. He went deep into the woods and came to the clearing,
-where he was to meet Tristouse Ballerinette. The damsel had not yet
-arrived. Croniamantal longed for a fountain and his imagination, or
-perhaps some sorcerer's talent in himself which he had never suspected,
-caused a limpid water suddenly to flow among the grass.</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal flung himself down and drank avidly, when he heard the
-voice of a woman singing far off:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>Dondidondaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>'Tis the shepherdess beloved of the king</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Who has gone to the fountain</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>Dondidondaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>In the dewy fields, all blossoming</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>To the fountain</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>But here comes Croquemitaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>To the fountain</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>And Hickorydock! advance no further.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Dost thou think already of her who sings? Thou laughest dully in this
-clearing. Dost thou believe that she has been rounded like a round table
-for the equality of men and weeks? Thou knowest well, the days do not
-resemble each other.</p>
-
-<p>About the round table, the good are no longer equal; one has the sun in
-his face, it dazzles him and soon quits him for his neighbor. Another
-has his shadow before him. All are good, and good thou art thyself, but
-they are no more equal than the day and the night.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE VOICE</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>Croquemitaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Wears the rose and the lilac</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>The king rides off&mdash;Hello Germaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>&mdash;Croquemitaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Thou wilt come back again</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>The voices of women are always ironical. Is the weather always fair?
-Someone is already damned instead of me. It is nice in the deep woods.
-Hearken no longer to the voice of woman! Ask! Ask!</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE VOICE</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>Hello Germaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>I come to love between thine arms</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>Ah! Sire, our cow is full</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>Really Germaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;">&mdash;<i>Your servant also, I believe.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>She who sings in order to lure me will be ignorant as I, and dancing
-with lassitudes.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE VOICE</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>The cow is full</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>When autumn comes she'll calve</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Farewell my king Dondidondaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>The cow is full</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>And my heart empty without thee</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>Croniamantal stands on the tip of his toes to see if he can perceive
-through the branches the so-beloved who comes.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE VOICE</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>Dondidondaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>But when will come my Croquemitaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>At the fountain it is very cold</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>Dondidondaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>After the winter I shall be less cold.</i></span></p>
-
-<p>In the clearing there appeared a young girl, svelte and brunette. Her
-countenance was sombre and starred with roving eyes like birds of bright
-plumage. Her sparse but short hair left her neck bare; her hair was
-tousled and dark, and by the skipping rope which she carried,
-Croniamantal recognized her to be Tristouse Ballerinette.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>No further, child with bare arms! I shall come to you myself. Someone
-has just hushed under the pines and will be able to overhear us.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">TRISTOUSE</p>
-
-<p>This one is surely the issue of an egg, like Castor and Pollax. I
-recall how my mother, who was very foolish, used to talk to me about them
-of long evenings. The hunter of serpent's eggs, son of the serpent
-himself,&mdash;I am afraid of those old memories.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Have no fear, woman of the naked arms. Stay with me. My lips are filled
-with kisses. Here, here. I lay them on thy brow, on thy hair. I caress
-thy hair with its ancient perfume. I caress thy hairs which intertwine
-like the worms on the bodies of the dead. O death, o death, hairy with
-worms. I have kisses on my lips. Here, here they are, on thy hands, on
-thy neck, on thine eyes, thine eyes. I have lips full of kisses, here,
-here, burning like a fever, sustained to enchant thee, kisses, mad
-kisses, on the ear, the temple, the cheek. Feel my embraces, bend under
-the effort of my arm, be languid, be languid. I have kisses upon my
-lips, here, here, mad ones, upon thine eyes, upon thy neck, upon thy
-brow, upon thy youth, I longed so to love thee, this spring day when
-there are no more blossoms on the branches which prepare themselves to
-bear fruit.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">TRISTOUSE</p>
-
-<p>Leave me, go away. Those who move each other are happy, but I do not
-love you. You frighten me. However, do not despair, o poet. Listen, this
-is my best advice: Go away!</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Alas! Alas! To leave again, to wander unto the oceanic limits, through
-the brush, the evergreen, in the scum, in the mud, the dust, across the
-forests, the prairies, the plantations, and the very happy gardens.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">TRISTOUSE</p>
-
-<p>Go away. Go away, far from the antique perfume of my hair, o thou who
-belongest to me.</p>
-
-<p>And Croniamantal went off without turning his head once; he could be
-seen for a long time through the branches, and then his voice could be
-heard growing fainter and fainter as he disappeared from view.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Traveller without a stick, pilgrim without staff and poet without a
-writing pad, I am more powerless than all other men, I own nothing more
-and I know nothing...</p>
-
-<p>And his voice no longer reached Tristouse Ballerinette who was admiring
-her image in the pool.</p>
-
-<p>In another age monks cultivated the forest of Malverne.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">MONKS</p>
-
-<p>The sun declines slowly, and blessing thee, O Lord; we are going to
-sleep in the monastery so that the dawn may find us in the forest.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE FOREST OF MALVERNE</p>
-
-<p>Every day, every day, flights of anguished birds see their nests
-crushed and their eggs broken when the trees sway with shaking branches.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE BIRDS</p>
-
-<p>It is the happy hour of twilight when the girls and boys come to roll
-on the grass. And all of them have kisses that want to fall like over-ripe
-fruit or like the egg when it is about to be laid. Do you see them
-there, do you see them dance, muse, haunt, chant from dusk to the dawn,
-his pale sister?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">A RED-HAIRED MONK</p>
-
-<p class="center">(<i>In the middle of the Cortège</i>)</p>
-
-<p>I am afraid to live and I should like to die. Convulsions of earth.
-Labor! O lost time...</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE BIRDS</p>
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>Gay! Gay! the broken eggs</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>The ready-made omelette cooked on a downy fire</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 24em;"><i>Here! Here!</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 22em;"><i>Take to the right</i></span><br />
-<br />
-<span style="margin-left: 22em;"><i>Turn to the left</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 24em;"><i>Straight ahead</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 22em;"><i>Behind the fallen oak</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 24em;"><i>There and everywhere.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p class="center">(<i>In another age, near the Forest of Malverne and a little before the
-passage of the monks.</i>)</p>
-
-<p>The winds disperse before me, the forests fall away and become a wide
-track with corpses here and there. The travellers meet with too many
-corpses for some time, with garrulous corpses.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE RED-HAIRED MONK</p>
-
-<p>I don't want to work any more, I want to dream and pray.</p>
-
-
-<p>He sleeps, his face turned to the sky, on the road bordered with
-willows of the color of mist.</p>
-
-<p>The night had come with the moonlight. Croniamantal saw the monks bent
-over the nonchalant bodies of their brothers. Then he heard a little
-plaint, a feeble cry that died in a last sigh. And slowly they passed in
-Indian file before Croniamantal, who was hidden behind a clump of
-willows.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE GLORIDE FOREST</p>
-
-<p>I should love to send this man astray amid the spectres that float
-among the bubbles. But he flees toward the times that come, and whither he
-is already arrived.</p>
-
-
-<p>The banging of distant doors changes into the sound of trains in
-motion. A large, grassy track, barred by trunks and fenced with enormous
-joined stones. Life commits suicide. A path that people follow. They never
-tire. Subways where the air is poisoned. Corpses. Voices call
-Croniamantal. He runs, he runs, he descends.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>In the lovely woods, Tristouse promenaded meditating.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">TRISTOUSE</p>
-
-<p>My heart is sad without thee, Croniamantal. I loved thee without
-knowing it. All is green. All is green above my head and beneath my feet.
-I have lost him whom I loved. I must search this way and that way, here
-and yonder. And among them all I shall surely find someone who will please
-me.</p>
-
-<p>Returned from other times, Croniamantal cried out at sight of Tristouse
-and the fountain again:</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Goddess! who art thou? Where is thine eternal form?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">TRISTOUSE</p>
-
-<p>Oh, there he is again, handsomer than ever... Listen, o poet. I belong
-to thee, henceforth.</p>
-
-<p>Without looking at Tristouse, Croniamantal bent over the pool.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>I love fountains, they are beautiful symbols of immortality when they
-never run dry. This one has never run dry. And I seek a divinity, but I
-desire her to appear eternal to me. And my fountain has never run dry.</p>
-
-<p>He knelt and prayed to the fountain, while Tristouse, all in tears,
-lamented.</p>
-
-<p>O poet, adorest thou the fountain? O Lord, return my lover to me! Come
-to me! I know such lovely songs.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>The fountain hath its murmur.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">TRISTOUSE</p>
-
-<p>Very well, then! Sleep with thy cold lover, let her drown thee! But if
-thou livest, thou belongest to me and thou shalt obey me.</p>
-
-<p>She was gone, and throughout the forest of twittering birds, the
-fountain flowed and murmured, while there arose the voice of
-Croniamantal who wept and whose tears mingled with the worshipped
-flood.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>O fountain! Thou who springest like a staunchless blood. Thou who art
-cold as marble, but living, transparent and fluid. Thou, ever renewed
-and ever the same. Thou who makest living thy verdant banks, I love
-thee. Thou art my unrivalled goddess. Thou quenchest my thirst. Thou
-purifiest me. Thou murmurest to me thine eternal song which rocks me to
-sleep in the evenings.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">THE FOUNTAIN</p>
-
-<p>At the bottom of my little bed full of an Orient of gems, I hear thee
-with contentment, o poet whom I have enchanted. I recall Avallon where
-we might have lived, thou as the King Fisher and I awaiting thee under
-the apple trees. O islands of apple trees. But I am happy in my precious
-little bed. These amethysts are sweet to my gaze. This lapis-lazuli is
-more blue than a fair sky. This malachite represents to me a prairie.
-Sardonyx, onyx, agate, rock-crystal, you shall scintillate tonight, for
-I will give a feast in honor of my lover. I shall come alone as befits a
-virgin. The power of my lover has already been manifested and his gifts
-are sweet to my soul. He has given me his eyes all in tears, two
-adorable fountains, sweet tributaries of my stream.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>O fecund fountain, thy waters resemble thy hair. Thy flowers are born
-about thee and we shall love each other always.</p>
-
-<p>Nothing could be heard but the song of birds and the rustling of
-leaves, and at times the plashing of a bird playing in the water.</p>
-
-<p>A dandy appeared in the little wood: It was Paponat the Algerian. He
-approached the fountain dancing.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>I know you. You are Paponat who studied in the Orient.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">PAPONAT</p>
-
-<p>Himself. O poet of the Occident, I come to visit you. I have learned of
-your enchantment, but I hear that it is not yet too late to converse
-with you. How humid it is here! It is not at all surprising that your
-voice is harsh, and you will certainly need a medicament to clear it. I
-approached you dancing. Is there no way of saving you from the situation
-in which you have placed yourself.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Bah! But tell me who taught you to dance.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">PAPONAT</p>
-
-<p>The angels themselves were my dancing masters.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>The good or the bad angels? But no matter. I have had enough of all the
-dances, save one which the Greeks call <i>kordax.</i></p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">PAPONAT</p>
-
-<p>You are gay, Croniamantal, we shall be able to amuse ourselves. I am
-glad I came here. I love gaiety. I am happy!</p>
-
-<p>And Paponat, his bright eyes profoundly whirling, rubbed his hands
-gleefully.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>You look like me!</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">PAPONAT</p>
-
-<p>Not much. I am happy to live, while you die beside the fountain.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>But the happiness which you proclaim, do you not forget it? and forget
-mine? You resemble me! The happy man rubs his hands. Smell them. What do
-they smell like?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">PAPONAT</p>
-
-<p>The odour of death.</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">CRONIAMANTAL</p>
-
-<p>Ha! ha! ha! The happy man has the same odour as death! Rub your hands.
-What difference between the happy man and the corpse! I am also happy,
-although I don't want to rub my hands. Be happy, rub your hands. Be
-happy! again! Now do you know it, the odour of happiness?</p>
-
-
-<p class="actor">PAPONAT</p>
-
-<p>Farewell. If you make no case for the living, there is no way of
-talking to you.</p>
-
-
-<p>And as Paponat disappeared into the night where glittered the
-innumerable eyes of the celestial animals of impalpable flesh,
-Croniamantal rose suddenly thinking to himself: "Well&mdash;enough of the
-beauties of Nature and of the thoughts she evokes. I know enough about
-that for a long time; we had better return to Paris and try to find that
-exquisite little Tristouse who loves me madly."</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XIII._MODES">XIII. MODES</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Paponat who came back that night from the Meudon woods where he had
-gone in search of adventure arrived just in time to take the last boat. He
-had the good luck to run into Tristouse Ballerinette there.</p>
-
-<p>"How are you, young lady?" he asked. "I just saw your lover,
-Croniamantal, in the woods. He is on the verge of going mad."</p>
-
-<p>"My lover?" said Tristouse. "He is not my lover."</p>
-
-<p>"He is said to be. At least they have been saying he is, in our
-literary and artistic circles, ever since yesterday."</p>
-
-<p>"They can say whatever they want," said Tristouse firmly. "Anyway I
-shall have nothing to be ashamed about in such a lover. Is he not
-handsome and has he not a great talent?"</p>
-
-<p>"You are right. But my, what a pretty hat you have, and what a pretty
-dress! I am very much interested in the fashions."</p>
-
-<p>"You are always very elegant, Mr. Paponat. Give me the address of your
-tailor and I shall tell Croniamantal about it."</p>
-
-<p>"Quite useless, he would not use it," said Paponat laughing. "But tell
-me now, what are the women wearing this year? I have just come from
-Italy and I am not in touch with things. Please tell me all about it."</p>
-
-<p>"This year," began Tristouse, "the modes are very bizarre and familiar,
-simple and yet full of fantasy. All material belonging to the different
-processes of Nature may now enter into the composition of a woman's
-costume. I have seen a robe made of cork. It was certainly as good as
-the charming evening gowns of towel which created such a rage at
-premieres. A great couturier is thinking of launching tailor-made
-costumes of the backs of old books, bound in calf. Charming! All
-literary women will want to wear it, and one can approach them and
-whisper into their ears under the guise of reading the titles of the
-books. Fish-skeletons are also worn much with hats. You may see
-delightful young girls, very often, wearing cloaks à la Saint-Jacques
-de Compostelle; their costume, so it is said, is starred with Saint
-Jacques shells. Porcelain, stone work and china have suddenly taken an
-important place in the sartorial art. These materials are worn in belts,
-on hat-pins, etc.; I have had the good luck to see an adorable reticule
-all made of the glass eyes that oculists use. Feathers are used not only
-to decorate hats with, but shoes, gloves, and next year they will even
-be used with umbrellas. Shoes are being made of Venetian glass and hats
-out of Bohemian crystal. Not to mention oil-painted gowns, highly
-colored woolens, and robes bizarrely spotted with ink. In the Spring
-many will wear dresses made of puffed gold leaf, with pleasant shapes,
-giving lightness and distinction. Our aviatrices will wear nothing else.
-For the races there will be the hat made of toy balloons, about twenty
-at a time being used, giving a luxuriant effect, and very diverting
-explosions from time to time. The mussel-shell will be worn on slippers.
-And note that they are beginning to dress with living animals. I met a
-woman who wore on her hat at least twenty birds; canaries, goldfinches,
-robins, held by a string tied to their feet, all singing at the top of
-their voices and flapping their wings. The head-dress of an
-ambassadress, ever since the last Neuilly fair is made up of a coil of
-about thirty snakes. 'For whom are those snakes that hiss overhead?'
-asked the little Romanian attaché with his Dacian accent, who was
-supposed to be quite a ladies' man. I forgot to tell you that last
-Wednesday I saw a lady on the boulevards with a ruff having little
-mirrors laid together and pasted to the material. In the sunlight the
-effect was sumptuous. One might have thought it a gold mine on a
-promenade. Later it began to rain and the lady resembled a silver mine.
-Nutshells make pretty buttons, especially if they are interspersed with
-filberts. A robe embroidered with coffee grains, cloves, cloves of
-garlic, onions, and bunches of raisins, is proper to wear when visiting.
-Fashion is becoming practical and no longer spurns any object, but
-ennobles all. It does for these things what romanticists do with
-words."</p>
-
-<p>"Thank you," said Paponat, "you have given me a great deal of
-information and told it charmingly."</p>
-
-<p>"You are too kind," replied Tristouse.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XIV._ENCOUNTERS">XIV. ENCOUNTERS</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Six months passed. For the last five Tristouse Ballerinette had been
-the mistress of Croniamantal, whom she loved passionately for eight days.
-In exchange for this love, the lyrical youth had rendered her glorious and
-immortal forever by celebrating her in marvellous poems.</p>
-
-<p>"I was unknown," she mused, "and now he has made me illustrious among
-all the living.</p>
-
-<p>"I was thought ugly because of my thinness, my large mouth, my bad
-teeth, my irregular features, my crooked nose. Now I am beautiful and
-all men tell me so. They mocked at my clumsy and jerky gait, at my sharp
-elbows which, when I walked, moved like the feet of geese.</p>
-
-<p>"What miracles are born of the love of a poet! But how heavily a poet's
-love weighs! What sorrows accompany it, what silences to endure! Now
-that the miracle has been accomplished, I am beautiful and renowned.
-Croniamantal is ugly, he has wasted his property in a short time; he is
-poor, lacking in elegance, no longer gay; the slightest of his gestures
-make him a hundred enemies.</p>
-
-<p>"I love him no longer. I need him no longer, my admirers are enough for
-me. I shall rid me of him gradually. But that is going to be very
-annoying. Either I must go away, or he must disappear, so that he
-doesn't bother me, and so that he isn't able to reproach me."</p>
-
-<p>And after eight days, Tristouse became the mistress of Paponat,
-although still seeing Croniamantal, whom she treated more and more coldly.
-The less she came to see him, the more desperately he cared for her. When
-she did not come at all, he spent hours in front of the house she lived
-in in the hope of seeing her come out, and if by chance she did, he
-would escape like a thief, fearing that she might accuse him of spying
-on her.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>It was by running around after Tristouse Bailerinette that Croniamantal
-continued his literary education.</p>
-
-<p>One day as he was wandering about Paris, he suddenly found himself at
-the Seine. He crossed a bridge and walked for some time, when suddenly
-perceiving before him M. François Coppée, Croniamantal regretted that
-this passerby was dead. But there is nothing against talking with the
-dead, and the encounter passed off very pleasantly.</p>
-
-<p>"Come," thought Croniamantal, "to a passerby he would appear to be
-nothing but a passerby, and the very author of the <i>Passerby.</i><a name="FNanchor_11_1" id="FNanchor_11_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_1" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> He is
-a clever and spiritual rhymester, with some feeling for reality. Let us
-speak to him about rhyme."</p>
-
-<p>The poet of the <i>Passerby</i> was smoking a dark cigarette. He was
-dressed in black, his visage black; he stood bizarrely on a high stone,
-and Croniamantal saw quite easily by his pensive air that he was composing
-verses. He came alongside of him and after having greeted him, said
-brusquely:</p>
-
-<p>"Dear master, how sombre you seem."</p>
-
-<p>He replied courteously.</p>
-
-<p>"It is because my statue is of bronze. That exposes me constantly to
-scorn. Thus the other day."</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Passing by one day the negro Sam MacVea</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Seeing I was the blacker, sat down and muttered:</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>'Yea.'</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>"See how adroit those lines are. Did you notice how well the couplet I
-just recited for you rhymes for the eye."</p>
-
-<p>"Indeed," said Croniamantal, "for it is pronounced <i>Sam MacVee</i>,
-like <i>Shakespeer.</i>"</p>
-
-<p>"Well here is something that comes off better," continued the
-statue:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Passing by one day the negro Sam MacVea</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Christened this tablet with a flask of eau-de-vie.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>"There is a bit of refinement that ought to appeal to you. It is the
-<i>rime riche</i>, the perfect rhyme to delight the ear."</p>
-
-<p>"You certainly enlighten me on the rhyme," said Croniamantal. "I am
-very happy, dear master, to have met you in passing by."</p>
-
-<p>"It is my first success," replied the metallic poet. "But I have just
-composed a little poem bearing the same title: it is about a gentleman
-who passes by. <i>The Passerby</i>, across the corridor of a railroad
-coach; he perceives a charming lady with whom, instead of going only to
-Brussels, he stops at the Dutch frontier:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>They passed at least eight days at Rosendael</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>He tasted the ideal, she the real</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>In all things, it chanced, their ways differed,</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>It was from veritable Love they suffered.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>"I call your attention to the last two lines, which through rhyming
-somewhat imperfectly contain a subtle dissonance, which is further
-emphasized by the fact of their being morbidly feminine rhymes."</p>
-
-<p>"Dear master," exclaimed Croniamantal, "speak to me of vers libre."</p>
-
-<p>"Long live liberty!" cried the bronze statue.</p>
-
-<p>And having saluted him, Croniamantal went his way looking for
-Tristouse.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>On another day Croniamantal was walking along the boulevards. Tristouse
-had missed an appointment with him, and he hoped to find her in a tea
-room where she sometimes went with her friends. He turned the corner of
-the rue Le Peletier, when a gentleman, dressed in a pearl-grey cape,
-accosted him, saying:</p>
-
-<p>"Sir, I am going to reform literature. I have found a superb subject:
-it is about the sensations of a well bred young bachelor who permits an
-improper sound to escape in an assemblage of ladies and young people of
-good family."</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal was properly amazed at the novelty of the subject, but
-understood at once how much it would take to test the sensibilities of
-the author.</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal fled... A lady stepped on his feet. She was also an
-authoress, and did not neglect to inform him that this incident would
-furnish him with a subject of fresh and delicate character.</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal took to his heels and reached the Pont des Saint Pères
-where three people were disputing over the subject of a novel and begged
-him to decide who was right; it was about the case of an officer.</p>
-
-<p>"Fine subject," cried Croniamantal.</p>
-
-<p>"Listen," said his neighbor, a bearded man, "I claim that the subject
-is too new and too unusual for the present day public."</p>
-
-<p>And the third man explained that it was about an officer of a
-restaurant company, the man who held office, who presided over the soiled
-dishes...</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal did not reply to them but made off to visit an old cook
-who wrote verse, and at whose place he hoped to find Tristouse at tea
-time. Tristouse was not there, but Croniamantal was hugely entertained by
-the mistress of the house who declaimed some poems to him.</p>
-
-<p>It was a poetry that was full of profundity, and in which words had a
-new meaning entirely. Thus <i>archipel</i> was only used in the sense of
-<i>papier buvard.</i><a name="FNanchor_12_1" id="FNanchor_12_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_1" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>Some time later, the rich Paponat, proud of being the lover of the
-renowned Tristouse, and desirous of not losing her, for she did him
-honor, decided to take his mistress for a trip through Central Europe.</p>
-
-<p>"Fine," said Tristouse, "but we will not travel as lovers, for even
-though you are nice to me, I don't love you enough, or at least I force
-myself to the point of not loving you. We shall travel as two friends,
-and I shall dress up as a young man; my hair is rather short, and I have
-often been told that I have the air of a handsome young man."</p>
-
-<p>"Very well," said Paponat, "and since we both are in need of repose we
-shall make our retreat in Moravia in a convent of Brünn where my uncle,
-the prior of Crepontois, retired after the expulsion of the monks. It is
-one of the richest and finest convents in the world. I shall present you
-as one of my friends, and have no fear, we shall be taken for lovers
-just the same."</p>
-
-<p>"That suits me," said Tristouse, "for I love to pass for that which I
-am not. We leave tomorrow."</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XV._VOYAGE">XV. VOYAGE</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Croniamantal went perfectly mad upon hearing of the departure of
-Tristouse. But at this time he began to become famous, and as his
-poetical repute waxed so did his vogue as a dramatist.</p>
-
-<p>The theatres played his plays and the crowd applauded his name, but at
-the same moment the enemies of poets and poetry were increasing in
-number and growing in audacious hatred.</p>
-
-<p>He only became more and more sorrowful, his soul shrinking within his
-enfeebled body.</p>
-
-<p>When he learned of the departure of Tristouse he did not protest, but
-simply asked the concierge if she knew the destination of the voyage.</p>
-
-<p>"All that I know," said the woman, "is that she has gone to Central
-Europe."</p>
-
-<p>"Very well," said Croniamantal, and returning to his quarters he
-gathered up the several thousand francs he still possessed and took the
-train for Germany at the Gare du Nord.</p>
-
-
-<p>On the following day, Christmas eve, the train was engulfed in the
-enormous terminal of Cologne. Croniamantal, carrying a little valise,
-descended last from his third-class coach.</p>
-
-<p>On the platform of the opposite track the red cap of the station
-master, the spiked helmets of policemen, and the silk hats of high
-functionaries indicated that an important person was awaited by the next
-train. And to be sure Croniamantal heard a little old man, with quick
-gestures, explaining to his fat wife who gaped with astonishment at the
-spiked helmets, the red cap, and the silk hats:</p>
-
-<p>"Krupp... Essen... No orders... Italy."</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal followed the crowd of passengers who had come in on his
-train. He walked behind two girls, who must have been pigeon-toed, so
-much did their gait resemble that of the goose. They kept their hands
-concealed under short cloaks; the head of the first one was covered with
-a small black hat, from which there dangled a bouquet of blue roses, as
-well as some straight, black feathers, with the stem trimmed except at
-the tip, which trembled as if with cold. The hat of the other girl was
-of a soft, almost brilliant felt, an enormous knot of satinette
-shrouding her with ridicule. They were probably two servant maids out of
-a job, for they were pounced upon at the exit by a group of strait-laced
-and ugly ladies wearing the ribbon of the Catholic Society for the
-Protection of Young Girls. The ladies of the Protestant Society for the
-same purpose stood a little further off. Croniamantal following behind a
-stout man with a short, hard and russet beard, dressed in green,
-descended the stairway that led to the vestibule of the station.</p>
-
-<p>Outside he saluted the Dome, solitary in the midst of the irregular
-square which it filled with its bulk. The station heaped its modern mass
-close to the huge cathedral. Hotels spread their signs in hybrid
-languages and appeared to hold their respectful distance from the gothic
-colossus. Croniamantal sniffed the odour of the town for a long time. He
-seemed to be disappointed.</p>
-
-<p>"She is not here," he said to himself, "my nose would smell her, my
-nerves would vibrate, my eyes would see her."</p>
-
-<p>He crossed the town, passed the fortifications on foot as if driven by
-un unknown force along the main road, downstream, on the right bank of
-the Rhine. And in truth, Tristouse and Paponat had arrived the night
-before in Cologne, taken an automobile and continued their journey; they
-had taken the right bank of the Rhine in the direction of Coblenz, and
-Croniamantal was following their trail.</p>
-
-<p>Christmas eve came. An old prophet of a rabbi from Dollendorf, just as
-he was venturing upon the bridge which links Bonn with Buel, was
-repulsed by a violent gust of wind. The snow fell in a great rage. The
-sound of the gale drowned all the Christmas songs, but the thousand
-lights of the trees glittered in each house.</p>
-
-<p>The old Jew swore:</p>
-
-<p>"<i>Kreuzdonnerwetter...</i> I shall never get to <i>Haenchen...</i> Winter,
-my old friend, thou canst avail nothing against my old and joyous carcass,
-let me cross without hindrance this old Rhine which is as drunken as
-thirty-six drunkards. As to myself, I bend my steps toward the noble
-tavern frequented by the Borussians only to tipple in company with those
-white bonnets and at their cost, like a good Christian, although I am a
-Jew."</p>
-
-<p>The sound of the gale doubled in fury, strange voices made themselves
-heard. The old rabbi shivered and raised his head crying:</p>
-
-<p>"Donnerkeil! Ui jeh, ch, ch, ch. Eh! Say, up there, you ought to go
-about your business instead of making life miserable for poor happy
-devils whose fate sends them abroad on such nights... Eh! mothers, are
-you no longer under the domination of Solomon? ...Ohey! Ohey! Tseilom
-Kop! Meicabl! Farwaschen Ponim! Beheime! You want to prevent me from
-drinking the excellent Moselle wines with the students of Borussia who
-are only too happy to toast with me because of my science and my
-inimitable lyricism, not to mention all my talents for sorcery and
-prophecy.</p>
-
-<p>"Accursed spirits! know ye that I might have drunk also Rhine wines,
-not to mention the wines of France. Nor should I have neglected to polish
-off some champagne in your honor, my old friends!... At midnight, the
-hour when the <i>Christkindchen</i> is made, I should have rolled under
-the table and have slept at least during the brawling... But you unchain
-the winds, you make an infernal uproar during this saintly night which
-should have been peaceful... as to being calm, you seem to be twisting
-his pigtail up there, sweet ladies... To amuse Solomon, no doubt...
-Lilith! Naama! Aguereth! Mahala! Ah! Solomon, for thy pleasure they are
-going to kill all the poets on this earth.</p>
-
-<p>"Ah Solomon! Solomon! jovial king whose entertainers are the four
-nocturnal spectres moving from the Orient to the North, thou desirest my
-death, for I am also a poet like all the Jewish prophets and a prophet
-like all the poets.</p>
-
-<p>"Farewell drunkenness for tonight... Old Rhine, I must turn my back to
-thee. I am going back to prepare me for death and dictate my last and
-most lyrical prophecies..."</p>
-
-<p>A horrible crash, like a stroke of thunder, burst just then. The old
-prophet pressed his lips together, lowering his head and looking down;
-then he bent down and held his ear quite close to the ground. When he
-straightened up he murmured:</p>
-
-<p>"The earth herself can no longer suffer the unbearable contact with
-poets."</p>
-
-<p>Then he took his way across the streets of Buel, turning his back on
-the Rhine. When the rabbi had traversed the railroad track he found
-himself before a crossing and as he hesitated not knowing which to take,
-he lifted his head again by chance. He saw before him a young man with a
-valise coming from Bonn; the old rabbi did not recognize the person and
-cried to him:</p>
-
-<p>"Are you mad to go out in such weather, sir?"</p>
-
-<p>"I am hurrying to rejoin someone whom I have lost and whose track I am
-following," replied the stranger.</p>
-
-<p>"What is your profession," cried the Jew.</p>
-
-<p>"I am a poet."</p>
-
-<p>The prophet stamped with his foot and as the young man disappeared he
-cursed him horribly because of the pity he felt, then lowering his head
-he went to look at the signposts along the road. Wheezing, he took the
-road straight ahead of him.</p>
-
-<p>"Happily the wind is fallen... at least one can walk... I had thought
-at first that he was coming to kill me. But, no, he will probably die even
-before me, this poet who is not even a Jew. Well, let us go quick and
-merrily to prepare us a glorious death."</p>
-
-<p>The old rabbi walked faster; with his long cloak he gave the effect of
-a returned spirit, and some children who were returning from Putzchen
-after the Christmas Tree party passed him crying with terror, and for a
-long time they threw stones in the direction in which he had
-disappeared.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>Croniamantal covered in this way part of Germany and the Austrian
-Empire; the force that propelled him drew him across Thuringia, Saxony,
-Bohemia, Moravia, up to Brünn, where he decided to stop.</p>
-
-<p>On the very night of his arrival, he scoured the town. Along the
-streets surrounding the old palace enormous Swiss guards in breeches and
-cocked hats, were standing before the doors. They leaned on long canes
-with crystal heads. Their gold buttons gleamed like the eyes of cats.
-Croniamantal lost his way; he wandered about for some time in poor
-streets where shadows passed vividly across drawn blinds. Officers in
-long blue coats passed by. Croniamantal turned to glance at them, then
-he walked outside of the town with night coming on, to look at the
-sombre mass of the Spielberg. While he was looking at the old state
-prison, he heard the sound of feet dose by and then saw three monks pass
-gesticulating and talking loudly. Croniamantal ran after them and asked
-them directions.</p>
-
-<p>"You are French," they said; "come with us."</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal examined them and noticed that they wore above their
-frocks little beige cloaks that were very elegant. Each one carried a
-light cane and wore a melon-shaped hat. On the way one of the monks said
-to Croniamantal:</p>
-
-<p>"You have wandered far from your hotel, we will show you the way if you
-wish. But if you care to, you may certainly come to the convent with us:
-you will be well received because you are a foreigner and you can pass
-the night there."</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal accepted joyfully, saying:</p>
-
-<p>"I shall be very glad to come, for aren't you brothers to me, who am a
-poet."</p>
-
-<p>They began to laugh. The oldest, who wore a gold-framed lorgnon and
-whose belly puffed out of his fashionable waistcoat, raised his arms and
-cried:</p>
-
-<p>"A poet! Is it possible!"</p>
-
-<p>And the two others, who were thinner, choked with laughter, bending
-down and holding their bellies as if they had the colic.</p>
-
-<p>"Let us be serious," said the monk with the lorgnon, "we are going to
-pass through a street inhabited by the Jews."</p>
-
-<p>In the streets, at every step, old women standing like pines in a
-forest, called them, making signals.</p>
-
-<p>"Let us flee from this stench," said the fat monk, who was a Czech and
-who was called Father Karel by his companions.</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal and the monks stopped at last before a great convent door.
-At the sound of the bell the porter came to let them in. The two thin
-monks said good-bye to Croniamantal, who remained alone with Father
-Karel in a parlor that was richly furnished.</p>
-
-<p>"My child," said Father Karel, "you are in a unique convent. The monks
-who inhabit it are all very proper people. We have old archdukes, and
-even former architects, soldiers, scientists, poets, inventors, a few
-monks expelled from France, and some lay guests of good breeding. All of
-them are saints. I, myself, such as you see me, with my lorgnon and my
-pot-belly, am a saint. I shall show you your room, where you may stay
-until nine o'clock; then you will hear the bell ring and I shall come to
-look for you."</p>
-
-<p>Father Karel guided Croniamantal through long corridors. Then they went
-up a stairway of white marble and on the second floor, Father Karel
-opened a door and said:</p>
-
-<p>"Your room."</p>
-
-<p>He showed him the electric button and left.</p>
-
-<p>The room was round, the bed and the chairs were round; on the chimney
-piece a skull looked like an old cheese.</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal stood by the window, under which spread the teeming
-darkness of a large monastery garden, from which there seemed to rise
-laughter, sighs, cries of joy, as if a thousand couples were embracing
-each other. Then a woman's voice in the garden sang a song which
-Croniamantal had heard before:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>...Croquemitaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Wears the rose and the lilac</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>The King is a-coming</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>&mdash;Hello Germaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>&mdash;Croquemitaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Wilt thou come back again?</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>And Croniamantal began to sing the rest:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>Hello Germaine</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>I come to love among thine arms.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>Then he heard the voice of Tristouse continuing the couplet.</p>
-
-<p>And voices of men here and there, sang airs that were strange or grave,
-while the cracked voice of an old man stuttered:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Vexilla regis prodeunt...</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>At this moment Father Karel entered the room, as a bell rang full
-force.</p>
-
-<p>"Well, my boy! Listening to the sounds of our fine garden? It is full
-of memories, this earthly paradise. Tychobrahé made love there with a
-pretty Jewess who said to him all the time: Chazer,&mdash;which means pig
-in the jargon.<a name="FNanchor_13_1" id="FNanchor_13_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_1" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> I myself, have seen such and such an archduke play with
-a pretty boy whose behind was shaped like a heart. Let us come to
-dinner."</p>
-
-<p>They arrived in a vast refectory still empty, and the poet examined at
-his leisure the frescoes which covered the wall.</p>
-
-<p>One was of Noah, dead-drunk on a couch. His son Cham was uncovering his
-nakedness, that is to say the root of a vine naively and prettily
-painted whose branches served as a genealogical tree, or something of
-the sort, for they had painted the names of all the abbés in red
-letters on all the leaves.</p>
-
-<p>The marriage of Cana showed a Mannekenpis pissing wine into the casks
-while the spouse, at least eight months with child, offered her belly to
-someone who was writing on it in charcoal: TOKAI.</p>
-
-<p>And then again there was a fresco of the soldiers of Gideon relieving
-themselves of the awful colic caused by the water they had drunk.</p>
-
-<p>The long table that covered the middle of the hall was spread with a
-rare sumptuousness. The glasses and decanters were of Bohemian
-cut-glass, and of the finest red crystal. The superb silver pieces
-glittered on the whiteness of the cloth strewn with violets.</p>
-
-<p>The monks arrived one by one, their hoods on their heads, arms folded
-on their breasts. On entering they greeted Croniamantal and took their
-accustomed places. As they came in, Father Karel informed Croniamantal
-of their name and what country they came from. The table was soon filled
-and Croniamantal counted fifty-six of them. The Abbé, an Italian with
-narrow eyes, said grace and the repast began, but Croniamantal anxiously
-awaited the arrival of Tristouse.</p>
-
-<p>A bouillon was served in which there swam little brains of birds and
-sweet peas...</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>"Our two French guests have just left," said a French monk who had been
-the prior of Crepentois. "I could not hold them here: the companion of
-my nephew was just singing in the garden in his pretty soprano voice. He
-almost fainted at hearing some one in the convent sing the close of the
-song. They left just now and took the train, for their automobile was
-not ready. We shall send it on to them by rail. They did not impart to
-me the destination of their journey, but I think that the pious children
-are bound for Marseilles. At least, I think I heard them talk of that
-town."</p>
-
-<p>Croniamantal, pale as a sheet, rose, then:</p>
-
-<p>"Excuse me, good fathers," he said, "but it was wrong of me to accept
-your hospitality. I must go away, do not ask me the reason. But I shall
-keep a fond memory of the simplicity, the gaiety, the liberty that reign
-here. All that is dear to me to the highest degree, why, why, alas, can
-I not profit of it?"</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XVI._PERSECUTION">XVI. PERSECUTION</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>At this time prizes for poetry were being awarded every day. Thousands
-of societies had been founded for this purpose and their members lived
-on the fat of the land, while making upon fixed dates large benefices to
-poets. But the 26th of January was the day upon which the largest
-associations, companies, boards of directors, academies, committees,
-juries, etc., of the whole world bestowed their awards. Upon this day
-8,019 prizes for poetry were distributed, the total of which aggregated
-50,005,225 francs.<a name="FNanchor_14_1" id="FNanchor_14_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_1" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> On the other hand, since the taste for poetry had
-never spread among any class of the population of any country, public
-opinion had risen powerfully against the poets who were called
-parasites, lazy, useless, and so forth. The 26th of January of this year
-passed without incident, but on the following day the great newspaper,
-La Voix, published at Adelaide (Australia) in the French language,
-contained an article by the distinguished agricultural chemist Horace
-Tograth (a German born at Leipzig), whose discoveries and inventions had
-frequently seemed to border on the miraculous. The article, entitled
-<i>The Laurel</i>, contained a sort of chronology of the culture of the
-laurel in Judea, in Greece, in Italy, in Africa and in Provence. The
-author gave counsel to those who had laurel trees in their gardens,
-indicating the multiple usage of the laurel, as a food, in art, in
-poetry, and its rôle as a symbol of poetic glory. He then began to talk
-of mythology, making allusions to Apollo and the fable of Daphné.
-Finally, Horace Tograth changed his tone brusquely and concluded his
-article as follows:</p>
-
-<p>"And furthermore, I say candidly, this useless tree is still too
-common, and we have less glorious symbolisms to which people attribute the
-famous savour of the laurel. The laurel holds too large a place upon our
-overpopulated earth, the laurels are unworthy of living. Each one of
-them takes the place of two in the sun. Let them be chopped down, and
-let their leaves be feared as a poison. Hitherto symbols of poetry and
-literary science, they are nothing more today than that death-glory
-which is to glory as death is to life, and as the hand of glory is to
-the key.</p>
-
-<p>"True glory has abandoned poetry for science, philosophy, acrobatics,
-philanthropy, sociology, etc. ...Poets are good for nothing more
-nowadays than to receive money which they do not earn, since they
-scarcely ever work and most of them (except for the minstrels) have no
-talent and no excuse whatsoever. As to those who have some gifts, they
-are even more obnoxious, for if they receive nothing they make more
-noise than a regiment and din our ears with their being persecuted. None
-of these people have any <i>raison d'être.</i> The prizes which are
-awarded them are stolen from workers, inventors, scientists, philosophers,
-acrobats, philanthropists, sociologists, and so forth. The poets must
-disappear. Lycurgus would have banished them from the Republic, we too
-must banish them. Otherwise, the poets, lazy fiefs, will become our
-princes and while doing nothing, live off our work, oppressing us, and
-mocking us. In short, we must rid ourselves immediately of the poets'
-tyranny.</p>
-
-<p>"If the republics and the kings, if the nations do not take care, the
-race of poets, too privileged, will increase in such proportions and so
-rapidly that in a short time no one will want to work, invent, teach, do
-dangerous feats, heal the sick and improve the lot of unfortunate
-men."</p>
-
-<p>An enormous stir greeted this article. It was telegraphed or telephoned
-everywhere, all the newspapers reproduced it. A few literary journals
-followed their quotations from Tograth's article with mocking
-reflections as to the scientist; there were doubts as to his mental
-state. They laughed at the terror which he manifested over the lyric
-laurel. However, the journals of commerce and information made great ado
-about his warnings. They even said that the article in <i>La Voix</i> was
-a work of genius.</p>
-
-<p>The article by Horace Tograth had been a singular pretext, admirably
-fitted to fan the blaze of hatred for poetry. It made its appeal through
-the traditional sense of the supernatural, whose memory lies in all well
-born men, and to the instinct for preservation which all beings feel.
-That was why nearly all Tograth's readers were thunderstruck, aghast,
-and wanted to lose no occasion to obliterate poets, who, because of the
-great numbers of prizes they received, were the subjects of the jealousy
-of all classes of the population. The majority of the newspapers
-advocated that the government take measures leading to the prohibition
-of all poetry prizes.</p>
-
-<p>In the evening, in a later edition of <i>La Voix</i>, the agricultural
-chemist, Horace Tograth, published a new article, which, like the other,
-telephoned or telegraphed everywhere, carried popular emotion to a
-climax in the press, among the public and the governments. The scientist
-concluded as follows:</p>
-
-<p>"World, choose between thy life and poetry; if serious measures are not
-taken, civilization is done for. Thou must not hesitate. From tomorrow
-on begins the new era. Poetry will exist no longer, the lyres too heavy
-for old inspirations will be broken. The poets will be massacred."</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>During the night, life went on just as usual in all the cities of the
-globe. The article, telegraphed everywhere, had been published in the
-special editions of the local newspapers and snatched up by the hungry
-public. The people all sided with Tograth. Ring-leaders descended into
-the streets and, mingling with the aroused mobs, excited them further.
-But most governments held sittings that very night and passed
-legislation which provoked an indescribable enthusiasm. France, Italy,
-Spain and Portugal decreed that all poets established on their territory
-should be imprisoned at once pending the determination of their lot.</p>
-
-<p>Foreign poets who were absent and sought to re-enter the country risked
-being condemned to death. It was cabled that the United States of
-America had decided to electrocute any man who avowed his profession to
-be that of poetry.</p>
-
-<p>It was telegraphed that in Germany also a decree had been passed
-ordering all poets in verse or prose found on the imperial territory to
-be incarcerated until further orders. In fact, all of the States on
-earth, even those who possessed nothing but meager little bards lacking
-in all lyricism took measures against the very name of poetry. Only
-England and Russia were exceptions. The laws went into effect at once.
-All poets who were found on French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese
-territory were arrested on the following day, while the literary
-magazines appeared all garbed in black, lamenting the new terror.
-Dispatches toward noon told how Aristenetius Southwest, the great Negro
-poet of Haiti, had been cut into pieces and devoured by an infuriated
-populace of negroes and mulattoes. At Cologne, the Kaiserglocke had
-sounded all night and in the morning Herr Professor Doktor Stimmung,
-author of a medieval epic in forty-eight cantos, having gone out to take
-the train for Hanover, was set upon by a troop of fanatics who beat him
-with sticks, crying: "Death to the poet!"</p>
-
-<p>He took refuge in the cathedral and remained locked in there with a few
-beadles, by the excited population of Drikkes, Hanses, and Marizibills.
-These last particularly, were beside themselves with rage, invoking the
-Virgin, Saint Ursula and the Three Royal Magi in <i>platdeutsch.</i> Their
-paternosters and pious oaths were interspersed with admirably vile
-insults to the professor-poet, who owed his reputation chiefly to the
-unisexuality of his morals. His head to the ground, he was nearly dying
-of fear under the big wooden statue of Saint Christopher. He heard the
-sounds of masons walling up all the gates of the cathedral and resigned
-himself to die of hunger.</p>
-
-<p>Toward two o'clock it was telegraphed that a sexton poet of Naples had
-seen the blood of Saint January boil up in the holy phial. The sacristan
-had gone out to proclaim the miracle and had hastened to the harbor
-front to play buck-buck. He won all that he desired at this game and a
-knife thrust in the breast to the bargain.</p>
-
-<p>Telegrams everywhere announced the arrests of poets, one after another,
-and the electrocution of the American poets was made known early in the
-afternoon.</p>
-
-<p>In Paris, several young poets of the left bank, who had been spared on
-account of their lack of notoriety, organized a demonstration extending
-from the <i>Closerie des Lilas</i> to the <i>Conciergerie</i>, where the
-"prince of poets" was imprisoned.<a name="FNanchor_15_1" id="FNanchor_15_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_1" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p>
-
-<p>Troops arrived to disperse the demonstrators. The cavalry charged. The
-poets drew their firearms and defended themselves but the people rushed
-in and took a hand in the mêlée. The poets were strangled and so was
-everyone else who came to their defense.</p>
-
-<p>Thus began the great persecution which swept rapidly throughout the
-entire world. In America, after the electrocution of the famous poets,
-they lynched all the negro minstrels and even many persons who had never
-in their lives written a rhyme; then they fell upon the whites of
-literary Bohemia. It was learned that Tograth, after having personally
-directed the persecution in Australia, had embarked at Melbourne.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
-<img src="images/apollinaire05.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
-<p class="center">André Dérain</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XVII._ASSASSINATION">XVII. ASSASSINATION</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Like Orpheus, all the poets felt violent death staring them in the
-face. Everywhere, publishers had been pillaged and collections of verse
-burnt. The admiration of all went out to Horace Tograth who, from far off
-Adelaide (Australia), had succeeded in unloosing this storm which seemed
-destined to destroy poetry forever. This man's knowledge, they said,
-bordered on the miraculous. He could drive away clouds or bring on rain
-anywhere he pleased. Women, once they had seen him, were ready to do his
-bidding. For the rest, he did not disdain either feminine or masculine
-virginities. As soon as Tograth had seen what enthusiasms he had evoked
-in the whole world, he announced that he would visit the principal
-cities of the globe, after Australia had been rid of its erotic and
-elegiac poets. And indeed some time later uprisings of the population
-were heard of in Tokyo, Pekin, Yakutsk, Calcutta, Buenos Ayres, San
-Francisco, Chicago, upon the appearance of the terrible German, Tograth.
-Wherever he went, he left an unearthly impression on account of his
-"miracles" (which he called scientific), and his extraordinary healings,
-all of which lifted his repute as a scientist and a thaumaturgist to
-sublime heights.</p>
-
-
-<p>On May 30, Tograth debarked at Marseilles. The people were massed along
-the quays; Tograth landed from the steamer in a launch. No sooner was he
-recognized than cries, shouts, toasts, from innumerable gullets mingled
-with the sound of the wind, the waves and the sirens of the vessels.
-Tograth, tall and thin, was standing up in the launch. As it approached
-the land, the features of the hero could be distinguished more and more
-clearly. His face was smooth-shaven and blue, his mouth almost lipless,
-disfigured by an ugly cut; he had a receding chin which gave him the
-appearance, one might have said, of a shark. His brow rose straight up,
-very high and very large. Tograth was dressed in a pasty white costume,
-his shoes also being white and high-heeled. He wore no hat. As soon as
-he placed his foot upon the soil of Marseilles the furor of the crowd
-rose to such heights that when the quays were cleared three hundred
-people were found dead, strangled, trampled, crushed. Several men seized
-the hero and raised him upon their shoulders while they sang and
-shouted, and women threw flowers at him all the way to the hotel where a
-suite had been prepared for him and managers, interpreters and bell-boys
-were waiting to greet him.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>On the same morning, Croniamantal coming from Brünn had arrived at
-Marseilles to look for Tristouse who had been there since the evening
-before with Paponat. All three mingled in the crowd which acclaimed
-Tograth before the hotel where he was to stop.</p>
-
-<p>"Happy tumult," said Tristouse, "You are not a poet, Paponat, you have
-learned things which are worth infinitely more than poetry. Is it not
-true, Paponat, that you are in no way a poet?"</p>
-
-<p>"Indeed, my dear," replied Paponat, "I have rhymed at times in order to
-amuse myself, but I am not a poet, I am an excellent business man and no
-one knows better than I how to manage an estate."</p>
-
-<p>"Tonight you must mail a letter to <i>La Voix</i> of Adelaide; you must
-tell them all that, and so you will be safe."</p>
-
-<p>"I shall not fail to do that," said Paponat. "Did you ever hear of such
-a thing, a poet! That goes for Croniamantal."</p>
-
-<p>"I hope to God," said Tristouse, "that they will massacre him in Brünn
-where he expects to find us."</p>
-
-<p>"But there he is right now," whispered Paponat. "He is in the crowd. He
-is hiding himself and hasn't seen us."</p>
-
-<p>"I wish they would hurry up and massacre him," sighed Tristouse. "I
-have an idea that that will happen soon."</p>
-
-<p>"Look," exclaimed Paponat, "here comes the hero."</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>The cortège which accompanied Tograth arrived at the hotel, and he was
-permitted to descend from their shoulders. Tograth turned to the crowd
-and addressed them:</p>
-
-<p>"Citizens of Marseilles, in thanking you I could employ, if I wished,
-compliments that are fatter than your world-renowned sardines. I could,
-if I wished, make a long speech. But words will never quite encompass
-the magnificence of the reception which you have accorded me. I know
-that there are maladies in your midst that I might heal not only with my
-knowledge but with that which scientists have accumulated for myriads of
-years. Bring forth the sick, and I shall heal them."</p>
-
-<p>A man whose cranium was as bald as that of an inhabitant of Mycona
-cried:</p>
-
-<p>"Tograth! god-like mortal, all puissant <i>savantissimo!</i> Give me a
-luxuriant mane of hair."</p>
-
-<p>Tograth smiled and asked that the man approach him: then he touched the
-denuded head, saying:</p>
-
-<p>"Thy sterile pate shall be covered with an abundant vegetation, but
-remember always this favor by hating the laurel."</p>
-
-<p>At the same time as the bald man, a little girl approached. She
-implored Tograth:</p>
-
-<p>"Sweet man, sweet man, look at my mouth, my lover with a blow of his
-fist has broken several teeth. Return them to me."</p>
-
-<p>The scientist smiled and put his finger into her mouth, saying: "Now
-thou canst chew, thou hast excellent teeth. But in return, show us what
-thou hast in thy bag."</p>
-
-<p>The girl laughed, opening her mouth in which the new teeth gleamed;
-then she opened her bag, excusing herself:</p>
-
-<p>"What a funny idea, before everybody! Here are my keys, here an
-enamelled photograph of my lover; he really looks better than that."</p>
-
-<p>But the eyes of Tograth were greedy; he had perceived all folded up in
-her bag several Parisian songs, rhymed and set to Viennese airs. He took
-these papers and after having scrutinized them, asked:</p>
-
-<p>"These are nothing but songs, hast thou no poems?"</p>
-
-<p>"I have a very lovely one," said the girl. "It was the bell-boy of the
-Hotel Victoria wrote it for me before he left for Switzerland. But I
-never showed it to Sossi."</p>
-
-<p>And she proffered Tograth a little rose sheet of paper on which was
-written a pathetic acrostic.</p>
-
-
-<div class="center">
-<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
-<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="left"></td><td align="left"><i>My dear beloved, ere I go away,</i></td></tr>
-<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="left"></td><td align="left"><i>And thy love, Maria, I betray,</i></td></tr>
-<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="left">MARIA&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><i>Rail and sob, my sweet, once more&mdash;again,</i></td></tr>
-<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="left"></td><td align="left"><i>If you'd come with me to the woods, we twain,(!)</i></td></tr>
-<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="left"></td><td align="left"><i>All would be sweeter; our parting would not pain.</i></td></tr>
-</table></div>
-
-
-<p>"It is not only poetry," exclaimed Tograth, "it is idiotic."</p>
-
-<p>And he tore up the paper and threw it into the ditch, while the girl
-knocked her teeth in fright and cried:</p>
-
-<p>"Sweet man, good man, I did not know that it was bad."</p>
-
-
-<p>Just then Croniamantal advanced close to Tograth and apostrophized the
-crowd:</p>
-
-<p>"Carrion, assassins!"</p>
-
-<p>They burst into laughter. They yelled:</p>
-
-<p>"Into the water with him, the rat."</p>
-
-<p>And Tograth, looking Croniamantal in the face, said:</p>
-
-<p>"My good brother, let not my affluence disturb you. As for me, I love
-the people, even though I stop at hotels which they do not frequent."</p>
-
-<p>The poet let Tograth talk, then he continued to address the crowd:</p>
-
-<p>"Carrion, laugh at me, your joys are numbered, each one of them will be
-torn from you one by one. And do you know, o people, what your hero
-is?"</p>
-
-<p>Tograth smiled and the crowd became all attention. The poet
-continued:</p>
-
-<p>"Your hero, o populace, is Boredom bringing Misery."</p>
-
-
-<p>A cry of astonishment issued from all the throats. Women crossed
-themselves. Tograth wanted to speak, but Croniamantal seized him
-suddenly by the neck, threw him to the ground and held him there with
-his foot on the man's chest, while he spoke:</p>
-
-<p>"He is Boredom and Misery, the monstrous enemy of man, the Behemoth
-glutted with debauchery and rape, dripping the blood of marvellous
-poets. He is the vomit of the Antipodes, and his miracles deceive the
-clairvoyant no more than the miracles of Simon the Magi did the
-Apostles. Marseillais, Marseillais, woe that you whose ancestors come
-from the most purely lyrical land, should unite with the enemies of
-poetry, with the barbarians of all the nations. What a strange miracle,
-this, of the German returned from Australia! To have imposed it upon the
-world and to have been for a moment stronger than creation itself,
-stronger than immortal poetry."</p>
-
-<p>But Tograth who was able to extricate himself at last, arose, soiled
-with dust and drunk with rage. He asked:</p>
-
-<p>"Who are you?"</p>
-
-<p>"Who are you, who are you?" cried the crowd.</p>
-
-
-<p>The poet turned toward the east and in exalted tones said:</p>
-
-<p>"I am Croniamantal, the greatest of living poets. I have often seen God
-face to face, I have borne the divine rapture which my human eyes
-tempered. I was born in eternity. But the day has come, and I am here
-before you."</p>
-
-
-<p>Tograth greeted these last words with a terrible burst of laughter, and
-the first ranks of the crowd seeing Tograth laugh, took up his laughter,
-which, in bursts, in rolls, in trills, was soon communicated throughout
-the entire populace, even to Paponat and Tristouse Ballerinette. All of
-the open mouths yawned at Croniamantal, who became ill at ease.
-Interspersed with the laughter were shouts of:</p>
-
-<p>"Into the water with the poet!... Burn him, Croniamantal!... To the
-dogs with him, lover of the laurel!"</p>
-
-<p>A man who was in the first ranks and carried a heavy club gave
-Croniamantal a blow, causing him to make a painful grimace which doubled
-the merriment of the crowd. A stone, accurately thrown, struck the nose
-of the poet and drew blood. A fish merchant forced his way through the
-mob and, confronting Croniamantal, said:</p>
-
-<p>"Hou! the raven. I remember you, all right, you're a policeman who
-wanted to pass for a poet; there, cow; take that, story teller."</p>
-
-<p>And he gave him a terrific slap, spitting in his face. The man whom
-Tograth had cured of <i>alopecia</i> came to him and said:</p>
-
-<p>"Look at my hair, is it a false miracle or not?"</p>
-
-<p>And lifting his cane, he thrust it so adroitly that he gouged out
-Croniamantal's right eye. Croniamantal fell over backward, women threw
-themselves upon him and beat him. Tristouse jumped up and down with joy,
-while Paponat tried to calm her. But she went over and with the end of
-her umbrella stuck out Croniamantal's other eye, while he, seeing her in
-this last moment of sight, cried:</p>
-
-<p>"I confess my love for Tristouse Ballerinette, the divine poesy that
-consoles my soul."</p>
-
-<p>"Shut up, vermin!" cried the crowd of men, "there are ladies here."</p>
-
-<p>The women went away soon, and a man who was balancing a large knife on
-his open hand threw it in such a way that it landed right in the open
-mouth of Croniamantal. Other men did the same thing. The knives stuck in
-his belly, his chest, and soon there was nothing more on the ground than
-a corpse bristling with points like the husk of a chestnut.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="XVIII._APOTHEOSIS">XVIII. APOTHEOSIS</a></h4>
-
-
-<p>Croniamantal dead, Paponat brought Tristouse Ballerinette back to the
-hotel, where she relapsed into nervous fainting-spells. They were in a
-very old building and by chance Paponat discovered, wrapped up in
-cardboard, a bottle of water of the Queen of Hungary which dated from
-the 17th Century. This remedy worked rapidly. Tristouse recovered her
-senses and immediately went to the hospital to claim the body of
-Croniamantal which was turned over to her without delay.</p>
-
-<p>She arranged a decent burial for him and placed over his tomb a stone
-on which there was engraved the following epitaph:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Walk lightly and your silence keep,</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>To leave untroubled his good sleep.</i></span></p>
-
-
-<p>Then she went back to Paris with Paponat who soon left her for a
-mannikin of the Champs-Élysées.</p>
-
-<p>Tristouse did not regret him very long. She went into mourning for
-Croniamantal and climbed up to the Montmartre, to the Bird of Benin's
-who began to pay court to her, and after he had what he desired they
-began to talk of Croniamantal.</p>
-
-<p>"I ought to make a statue to him," said the Bird of Benin, "For I am
-not only a painter but also a sculptor."</p>
-
-<p>"That's right," said Tristouse, "we must raise a statue to him."</p>
-
-<p>"Where?" asked the Bird of Benin; "The government will not grant us any
-ground. Times are bad for poets."</p>
-
-<p>"So they say," replied Tristouse, "but perhaps it
-isn't true. What do you think of the Meudon woods?"</p>
-
-<p>"I thought of that, but I dared not say it. Let's go to the Meudon
-woods."</p>
-
-<p>"A statue of what?" asked Tristouse, "Marble? Bronze?"</p>
-
-<p>"No, that's old fashioned. I must model a profound statue out of
-nothing, like poetry and glory."</p>
-
-<p>"Bravo! Bravo!" cried Tristouse clapping her hands, "A statue out of
-nothing, empty, that's lovely, and when will you make it?"</p>
-
-<p>"Tomorrow, if you wish; we shall go and dine, pass the night together,
-and in the morning we shall go to the Meudon woods where I shall make
-this profound statue."</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>No sooner said, than done. They went and dined with the élite of the
-Montmartre, returned to sleep at midnight and on the next morning at
-nine o'clock, after having armed himself with a pick-axe, a spade, a
-shovel and some boasting-chisels, they took the road for the pretty
-Meudon woods, where they met the Prince of Poets, accompanied by his
-little friend, quite happy over the pleasant days he had spent in the
-City-prison.</p>
-
-<p>In the clearing, the Bird of Benin set to work. In a few hours he had
-dug a trench of about a meter and a half in breadth and two in depth.</p>
-
-<p>Then they had lunch on the grass.</p>
-
-<p>The afternoon was devoted by the Bird of Benin to sculpturing the
-interior of the monument to Croniamantal.</p>
-
-<p>On the following day, the sculptor came back with workingmen who fixed
-up an armed cement wall, six inches broad on top, and eighteen inches
-broad at the base, so that the empty space had the form of Croniamantal,
-and the hole was full of his spectre.</p>
-
-
-<p class="center">* * *</p>
-
-
-<p>On the next day, the Bird of Benin, Tristouse, the Prince of Poets and
-his little friend came back to the statue which was heaped up with earth
-which they had gathered here and there, and at nightfall they planted a
-fine laurel tree, while Tristouse Ballerinette danced and sang:</p>
-
-
-<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>No one loves thee thou art lying</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><i>Palantila Mila Mima</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>When he was lover to the queen</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>He was king while she was queen</i></span><br />
-<br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>'Tis true, 'tis true that I love him</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Croniamantal way down in the pit</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><i>Can that be right</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Let us gather the sweet marjoram</i></span><br />
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><i>At night.</i></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<p class="center">THE END</p>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-
-
-
-<h4><a id="NOTES">NOTES</a></h4>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>The French language at the end of the nineteenth century
-had reached a certain fixation, chiefly through the influence of
-Mallarmé, whose literary artifice was consternating. Apollinaire, a
-bizarre scholar, and yet a "lord of language," was more of a freebooter.
-Many of his exoticisms came from the market-place or from other tongues.
-Their sources were fair and false. But at bottom, there is the sincere
-desire to free modern literature from romantic sentiment, and artifice,
-to use words as directly and freely as in conversation.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_2_1" id="Footnote_2_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_1"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>Here Apollinaire's frivolous playing with the language can
-scarcely be rendered. The original runs: "...en me réfugiant dans <i>mon</i>
-ou <i>ma</i> 'bedroom' <i>du</i> ou <i>de la</i> 'family house' ou j'étais
-descendue."</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_3_1" id="Footnote_3_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_1"><span class="label">[3]</span></a>Among these towns we may cite, Naples, Adrianople,
-Constantinople, Neauphle le-Chateau, Grenoble, Pultawa,
-Pouilly-en-Auxois, Pouilly-les-Fours, Nauplie, Seoul, Melbourne, Oran,
-Nazareth, Ermenonville, Nogent-sur-Marne, etc.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_4_1" id="Footnote_4_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_1"><span class="label">[4]</span></a>Wilhelm de Kostrowitzki was baptized in Rome, September 29,
-1880, at the <i>Sacrosancta Patriarcalis Basilica Santa Mariae Maioris.</i>
-His father is said to have been a high prelate of the Catholic Church.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_5_1" id="Footnote_5_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_1"><span class="label">[5]</span></a>"Let the seven countries and four continents dispute the
-honor of his birthplace"&mdash;Mme de Kostrowitzka (who had never opened
-but one of his books, and found that "idiotic") exclaimed one day:
-
-"O Poland, thou wilt remember thy great son!"</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_6_1" id="Footnote_6_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_1"><span class="label">[6]</span></a>Apollinaire wrote to his friend André Billy: "Was I not
-too a master of rhymed verse?" This brief couplet, paraphrased from:
-
-Luth!
-Zut!
-
-marked a point of departure toward <i>Calligrammes.</i></p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_7_1" id="Footnote_7_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_1"><span class="label">[7]</span></a>This "absolute" poem, "freed from the restrictions of even
-language" may be profitably studied for its positive suggestions. The
-Dadaists, whose godfather Apollinaire was, took up this form with a
-passionate conviction that terrified the populace after the war. "Is not
-every art-theory, every school, only the triumph of an individual's
-taste, the imposition of a stronger mind upon the weaker ones?"
-Nonsense-poems, were the reductio ad absurdum of all literary artifice.
-The final word, the ultimate bankruptcy. Apollinaire's intense desire to
-negate literary precedent and to innovate, led through the stimulus of
-the Cubist painters to <i>Calligrammes</i>, which contains his calligraphic
-poetry. The typography is arranged most intricately, with regard to its
-pictural or abstract effect. Apollinaire hoped ultimately to unite
-poetry and painting, in fact his last critical writings in the Mercure
-de France are filled with amazing conjectures as to the future of art.
-
-The "poèmes conversations" of Calligrammes, as André Billy relates,
-may well have originated in the following manner:
-
-"He, Dupuy, and I are sitting at Crucifixe with three glasses of
-vermouth. Suddenly Guillaume bursts out laughing&mdash;he has completely
-forgotten to write the preface to Robert Delaunay's catalogue, which he
-promised to mail that evening. 'Quick waiter, pen and ink. Three of us
-will get through with this in a jiffy.' Guillaume's pen is off already:
-
-'Of red and green all the yellow dies.'
-His pen stops.
-But Dupuy dictates:
-'When the arras sing in our natal forests.'
-The pen starts off again transcribing faithfully.
-It is my turn:
-
-'There is a poem to be written about the bird with but one wing.'
-
-A reminiscence from <i>Alcools</i>&mdash;the pen writes without a stop.
-
-'A good thing to do if there is any hurry,' I said, 'would be to send
-your preface over the telephone.'
-
-And so the next line became:
-
-'And we shall send this by the telephone.'
-
-I no longer remember all the details of this singular collaboration, but
-I can state that the preface to the catalogue of Robert Delaunay came
-out entire."</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_8_1" id="Footnote_8_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_1"><span class="label">[8]</span></a>This chapter is obviously written in an entirely different
-period. The Poet Assassinated, composes, if we choose to believe so,
-Apollinaire's vision of his own life. The book was collated from many
-fragments, many beginnings, and published in 1916, by "<i>l'Édition</i>,"
-for the so-called "<i>Librairie des Curieux.</i>" In the opening passage of
-this chapter part of the influences of the Cubist painters, and their
-inventions are particularly apparent.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_9_1" id="Footnote_9_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_1"><span class="label">[9]</span></a>The theatre in France of the period immediately preceding
-the war is a sorry thing to relate. We will pass over Brieux, Hervieu,
-Battaille, Bernstein, to consider Donnay, Porto-Riche and their ilk.
-These worthies and their imitators achieved unparalleled financial and
-social triumphs by incorporating a certain intimate lewdness into their
-trivial drama. Their obvious theatrical machinery, which Apollinaire
-ridicules, has been as successfully adopted in this country and
-elsewhere in Europe, under the label of "modern drama."</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_10_1" id="Footnote_10_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_1"><span class="label">[10]</span></a><i>Mamamouchi</i> is a character in Molière's play, <i>le
-Bourgeois Gentilhomme</i>, a dignitary whose sense of office is so strongly
-imbedded in him that he always enters shouting, "<i>Je suis Mamamouchi!</i>"</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_11_1" id="Footnote_11_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_1"><span class="label">[11]</span></a>François Coppée, this sentimental nineteenth century
-poet was amazingly popular, and truly French in his weaknesses, like the
-music of Massenet. Apollinaire takes grave liberties with him, out of
-sheer mischief.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_12_1" id="Footnote_12_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_1"><span class="label">[12]</span></a><i>Archipel</i>, archipelago, used in the sense of <i>papier
-buvard</i> (!) <i>blotting paper!</i> The disciples of Mallarmé went even
-farther than this.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_13_1" id="Footnote_13_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_1"><span class="label">[13]</span></a><i>Tychobrahé</i>, Tycho Brahe, the Danish astronomer
-(1546-1601). Although lord of a province in Scania, he took refuge in a
-monastery where he pursued his scientific researches.
-
-He settled in Prague, at the invitation of Emperor Rudolf II, and died
-there. Whether he ever really visited the monastery at Brünn is hard to
-judge.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_14_1" id="Footnote_14_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_1"><span class="label">[14]</span></a>The number of prizes given for poetry and for other forms
-of literature has reached an even more disquieting figure since the war.
-Great publicity attends each award, and the publishers vie with each
-other in establishing such prizes. However, the lot of the true poet is
-as hard as ever, since it has become distinctly unfashionable to be the
-recipient of a prize.</p></div>
-
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a name="Footnote_15_1" id="Footnote_15_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_1"><span class="label">[15]</span></a>Paul Fort, Prince of Poets, he, of the broad-brimmed black
-hat, and the flowing scarf, frequented the <i>Closérie des Lilas</i>, with
-his band, whereas his avowed enemy, Apollinaire, and his far more
-disreputable cronies quartered themselves in the Café Rotonde, a short
-distance east along the Boulevard Montparnasse.</p></div>
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