7

Studies in Hermeticism
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tND:fiVirt\
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New Series Vol. 14, No. 2

Cauda Pavonist Fall 1995

ow completing its fourteenth year. Cauda Pauonis

publishes scholarly material on a1l aspects of alchemy Arthur Rimbaud and the \,'Iystic \\/av
and rHermeticism and their influence on literature, phi- bv
i losophy, art, religion, and the history of science and
t medicine. Our approach to Hermeticism is, of necessity,
interdisciplinary and not limited to any particular his-
torical period, national emphasis, or methodology. \\'e \::,:-....
rvelcome your comments, inquiries. and manuscript sub- r
--'\ r-- ..-
I-1-... -.
-
-.

missions. life. l.--:', .: : -

Submitting Manuscripts: Cauda Pauonis rvill pro- rorn-J' l:. :

lide a forurn for articles (5000 word maxirnum), book [lre .'.-
'lra
: r -

revien's and revierv articles, notes and queries. confer-
.rce announcernents. and related bibliographies. Authors
s:,ould. if possible. subrnit rnanuscripts on 3.5 in. disk as
plain text (ASCII fon:rat) along with unr:rarked, printed
copies. All rnanuscripts n-rust be double-spaced through-
ouf. should follow the latest edition of The Chicago Man-
ual of Style, and be accompanied by return postage. Pub-
lication decisions are normally made rvithin four to six
weeks. Articles are indexed in the MLA International
BibLiography, r'eviews inlhe Inder to Book ReL'iews in the
Humanities.
Correspondence lelatir.rg to bibliographical matters
I .'.:'ule :- . -.: -.
: -
\lar'-);1 . :'. .:-:. -:-.-.- :
psrciro1ogicai:..-:^i.....:...-,.,:.-.
\\ allace Fori'lie. tor exan-;,--. :.r, i...- ...: :. -' . . '
baud Q9a6) bv saf ing "the poeiri- of R::rirar-rd rs cirild-
hood itself," equating the poetrl' r,,'ith the person. and
Heur1, N,Iiller says flat]y. "\\;ith Rimbaud. creation and ex-
perience u'ere r,-irtually simultaueous" (The Time of the
, ssasszns. 99).1 One critic feels compelled to point out
that Enid Starkie's critjcal biographv Arthur RinLbarrl is
more biography than criticisln. but hcl lror-,li ::-'. - . .
clear implession that the smal,est clc:.--. - .

should be sent to Eugene R. Cunnar. Dept. of En-
:l:sh. \eu' \Iexico State Univ., Las Cruces. \lI 88003
qecunnarGnmsu.edu). Book review queries should be ad-
dressed to Thomas S. Willard, Dept. of English. Unir'.
of Arizona. Tucson. AZ 85721 (willardGccit.arizona.edu).
or to Dr. N,Iarie Roberts, Dept. of Humanities. Universitl'
of the West of England. Bristol BS16 2JP. Avon. United
Kingdom. N,Ianuscripts and al1 other correspondence. in-
cluding subscription requests, should be sent to Stanton
J. Linden, Dept. of English, Washingron State Unir'..
Pullman. \\A 9916,1-5020 (linden@n'su.edu).
Subscriptions: Cauda Pauonis appears tl'ice a vea:.
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subscribers. Checks should be rnade pa,r.able to Cauda
Pauonis: foreign subscribers should pa)' by checks drarvn
{ on banks rvith American branches.
Submissions
In addition to submissions relating to English and Con-
tinental Renaissance literature and culture. Cauda Pato-
nis is especialll, 6rr*iom to consider scholarll-articles a:id
notes on aspects of hermetic thought in the historv c,i
science and medicil'' art historl' and iccnographr'. -',a.-
sical studies. n1.r! ' 'iterature. and .{r::e::can :n,tr:sl-
life are essential fol inlc:rielil:. ----
in other than pos:-stL'.ir: -.:'r-,1:,.: - .--:. - -
That cliiics r',',r',:.: : I ::'apitical-
psvchololrca. r-.-:-s :,. -.:- ----. - -' ;ne thing Rim-
baucl's life :. :.-. r:ra.:.:.- - -:: : :.-: incledible inten-
sities of e::-::- -. ::--:=--, ... . . . -Lrck ri'hich seemeci to
go clelr'.,'.'l--.:'-, -. -:-- l--:-- ,-.,:' .-.-1. his sistcr Isabelle i..r. l
l,e:'h,-rsi:r:.l i ,.=: .: '-.--: :t:ir.-r'after Rirnbaud s ,-l=:.:.-
::, -:!i:- -r :. : .
-=:.:-ci aror-rud his lifc. nt,.rcl- i.. l.--
:::..l,e s :-:::r :r:at :, ..o. One Stor1. n'hicl- :i . -... ... .
'.'.'--. 1- -..:--. -=::.-:-i..:td explained. ri'iis:--..: : ,....-
: . er :'.-': '.,':-S P.:::.itar-td's "farerr-elj :,- .::e:atr-it'e. Is-
..1:e.lear-t l::' i.usband clain-iing that Rin'il:aud destr:cyed
a,, plinted copies and never u'rote another line of poetry.
The storl captuled the in'rpressionabie in'iaginations of
many troung poets at the tnrn of the centurl,. but in 191,X
a Belgiau clitic fouud the enrile edition of the book in
the printsliop basernent. ianguishing there becanse Rim-
baud simpl1' didn't have the rrlolte]- 1,o Ira]' the pr.inter's
bill in 1873.
The stor'1' nonetheless franred i,extual euestinirs of in-
tense interest for the oext sixt].r,ear.s: .tyhat. ii an1.:h:
(apart from letters and a fe..t travel nieces for. tl-e B::::
Geographical Socte:-.' ':::. .1.-;tbauo ,,..ite .::=: -.:
b
-
others date them after 1873; others sa1'they were s'ritten
before, during and after 1873.2 One point of agreement
is that during 1874 Rimbaud expressed to Paul !'erlaine
and Germain Nouveau an interest in publishing the lllu-
mi,nations.
This fact is significant to this discussion because it
means Rimbaud did not completell' dismiss literature af-
ter the personal struggle he endured in completing Une
Saison en enfer. In his sister's legend, Rimbaud's farewell
to literature upon completing Une Sa,ison can be under-
stood as an extravagant gesture by a disiiiusioned young
lnan of letters. Part of the force of Une Saison, how-ever,
inheres in the powerful sense that the spiritual sufferings
recorded there were real, not only imaginatively, but liter-
ally. These sufferings, furthermore, resemble the personal
sufferings of many western mystics, and at this point,
Rimbaud's actual experience becomes of great interest.
We are no longer asking only what Rimbaud means by
all this confusing imagery, but also if, more than engag-
ing in a literary endeavor, he is describing the human soul
in a quest for divinity.
As a mere gesture, a fareu,ell to literature rvoul{
strongly suggest an essentially literary or aesthetic en-
deayor in rvhich the struggle rvas to rvrite great poetry.
But if the struggle was to flnd God, the poems themselves
being the struggie's expressive by-product, tl'ren in m1.5-
tical terrls it makes sense that Rimbaud wouid renounce.
.:. . ..: ,i iespair. a method of spiritual au,akening ri-hich
,,, ..-, :::a:ive activitl, (the rvriting of poetrl') as an
:::.-:--i-:-- =-=:lent. It would also make sense for him to
:=ai - a:: :lterest in his poetry after surfacing from the
despair again. He did regain his interest in publishing
the lllumi,nati,ons, b:ut as this essay r,',i11 shou'. there u'ere
specific spiritual reasons for ceasing to u'rite poetr)'.
To understand these cryptic remarks and explain u'h1'
Rimbaud's poetry is not simply radical poetic experimen-
tation, but the record of a mystic or contemplative life.
Evelyn Underhill's description of the five stages of r.r-n-s-
tic experience. and some specific terminology of contem-
plative poetr)' developed by Arthur Clements tn Poetry
of Contemplallon. provide a framework. \Vhile Starkie.
Gt'endol1-n Ba1's and others speak speciflcail1. of Rim-
baud's use of alchemical and occult ideas in his poetry
(details useful in sorting out specific lmagery), the ain-r
of this essay is to make the mystical, or contemplative
elements of Rimbaud's life and poetry clear. Rimbaud's
biography really is important in this context because not
only is his poetry childhood itself. but it conve)'s in the
purest possibie terms Rimbaud's spiritual life betu,een
1871 and 1873. His poetry' and his life seem inextrica-
bie irorn each other.
Underhiil's overviet' of the m1'stic u'a1'provides a ke1'
:o ,,r::derstanding the transcendental process q'hich most
m]'siics. and Rirnbaud. folloq' in their lives and describe
in their ri'ritings. In her classic studl' l[ysticism, Ur-
derhill explains the fir'e stages in the mystic's progress
torvard God: 1)Ari'akening or Conversion; 2) Purgation;
3) Illumination: 4) Purification or the Dark Night of the
Soul; and 5) Union.3 Rimbaud proceeded through the first
four of these stages and broke off befole attaining actual
contemplative "union.'' The'...'-- .: :r -:: -- i:eC in com-
plicated ways to his rvlit:r- .,':. --. - '.:-: '.,.'r':ting, Ile
ceases his intense drive t-'.,.':.r -- : -- .-: :-- ..:. at the end
of Une Saison en enier. :- -. -.- .-- , -:- ::-ole detail
later'
conversiol:
Underhill describes tire fir's: ::..:= ,, -:n'eLsion. as "a
sharp and sudden break rritir ti.-. , - ..:.: obvious rvay of
seeing things" (Mysticism. 192 ,l-:^-.'::s:on is a reaction
of the natural self, as opposei :: ::^e social or normal
self. to an "uprush ol nei',' rr'.:::'- 191). In Rimbaud's
case) conversion coincicie-. .,r'ltii a.ciolescence, ri'hen, hav-
ing been the prize stucienr. he at the age of fifteen drops
out of school and focuses attention on trvo things: po-
etry. and escaping from his domineering mother. It is not
clear that Rimbaud's conversion involved a vision or a
transcendent experiencei probably it did not. But it did
inr.olr.e a personal arvakening to the strictures of both per-
sonal and social life. strictures rvhich he found intolerable
and set out to change.
His personal and social iife was dominated by his
mother and the church, and as his poetry progressed
rapidly out of an imitative stage, he began to u,rite
more original poerns critical of the church and religion
generally-critical. and er-entuallr'u,orse. as in his famous
piece of graffiti "Dieu nerde." and in ''Les Pretlibrs Com-
munious," u'here he lreg:r.::
Vraiment. c'esr .-ri:r. ,-
Oi quinze laic-. ::-.-:::-
Ecoutent. gra.'.st-. ,
".--:
Un noir grotesq-. '.-:.
and ends speaking of "Ch:lstl o Cl-^::-.:. e;e:l'ei roleur
des 6nergies" (126). This ls no con\-eni:onal asakening.
and there is no reasorl ro think at this point that it has
anything to do with m]'stical or contemplative problerns
at all. Rimbaud exhibits t1'pical adolescent rebellion. but
unlike most boys his age. acts it out in poetrl-. \\-ith Rim-
baud the rebeliion is compiicated because at this early
age he is already au'are of his orr'n opposition to the op-
p1'essive moral and social clirnate of his culture. a climate
-other u'riters, such as Baudelaire. Flaubert. Villiers and
Nietzsche, rvould also react to strongll'.
\\rith Rimbaud the leaction is mole violent and in-
tense. Vies'ing the chulch-the traditional moral and
spiritual center of societl'-as r,rg11' (and probably inimi-
caI to spiritual matters) and as the upholder of conven-
tional moralitr'. his impulse is to reject and even to foul it.
Significantll'. his inner rejection of the church and Christ
is also a poetic act. Even this eally, poetry is part of the
process of his life and not an ornanent or career. His
natural adolescent awakening is instantly elevated to an
intense personal struggle against evelything he knows,
which is his "break rvith the o1d obvious s'a1' of seeing
things."
---_=+-_
 Purgation
Underhill calls the second stase : :--= :--.'siic rray
Purgation, and we can see that R":::::.':- =::ages in L
spiritual purgation of his orr'n de-,.s::-: ;.-:::ci: is unlike p e]'so 1r 'a

Underhill's descriptions in forr.::. : :: i-^. e-ractl1-the same psvche.-:-.':,.-, .. -

.

-; as:
Un au.il':. i..---
purpose. She states that Purga::-n :lr-oh-es "the drastic
t--:- .- -: hiS
turning of the self from the uueal to the real life" (Mysti- lettel .;.:-.:-- -::.,:- . - He
cism,204): it is the stripping an'a1' of rvhat needs to be re-
moved and the cleansing of ri'hat rvill rernain. This is nor- l: tlL-J. t--. -'_-- ::-- --.: :-..11._
mally accomplished in trro s'ar.s. she sa1's; through "De- alOlli.u -..; ,':'-:' -. - :- ... ... -..- .. .... ..'
tachment," which emplovs povertl', and through "llortifi- u1lutrI:...-- - .----
,.. ,. -l:, . .-'
I cation," rvhich is the remaking of the self, adjusting from llld\ -----i-
,r: -:-- - -;--
^ :t--
- a--. -.-. _ : --
the needs of the old self to those of the new. d - - .--::- -. -: :
Both rvays are difficult, and both p]a1, a part in Rim- Riitrl-,:.-.-:..:=s . --.-:..,--,--.- -- -.
baud's program for becoming a visionary, lvhich he ex- cal-::-l ---- -= .:..-
plains to Izambard and Demeny in the uoEanl letters of :: :. - . -- - :
1871. For Izambard he characterizes his "arvakening" stil1
rnore broadly, saying, "Je serai un travailleur: c'est I'id6e
..
qui me retient quand les colbres folles me poussent vers
la bataille de Paris . . . Tlavailler maintenant, jamais. ja- : -,,,
rriais: je suis en grbve" (Oeuures,343),5 referring to the ..:
..ocial upheavals of 1871. He expresses this rage against .:: - .

.societ]' in general in a discussion of his social duty to

:::ake objective poetrl'. as opposed to Izambard's subjec-
::'.'= poetrl'. n'hich Rimbaud finds insipid. The point here
is ihat he has an'akened to the general moral decay of
societl'and is reacting to it.
His reaction is the beginning of the purgative way;
moral decay implies a spiritual decay which he feels he
needs to escape, even combat. He tells Izambard. "N,Iain-
tenant, je m'encrapule le plus possible." and his reason
for doing this is:
Il s'agit d'arriver ). l'inconnu par le d6rbglement
vetselle A :-Ij- -:. ...i. :--
inrph'irrg rhe gerre:a.ize- :- .:.:
La premidre 6tude de l'homrle qui i'eu: €:.e ;;.ie
est sa propre connaissance. entibrel il cherche son
ime, iI I'inspecte, il la tente. 1'apprend. Dbs qu'iI
Ia sait. il doit la cultiver; cela semble simple: en
tout cerveau s'accomplit un d6veloppement na-
turel: tant d'dgoistes se proclament autenrs: il
en est bien d'autres qui s ar-t'r.. r-.- . .- ': -- -
intellectuel!-\lais :l s.,::: . :

de tous les sens. Les souffrances sont 6normes. . . .-ft :l-.

s:r'errse .
mais il faut 6tre fort. etre n6 pobte. et je me suis -. - 'ii -,
reconnu pobte. Ce n'est pas du tout ma faute.
C'est faux de dire: Je pense. On derrait dire:
On me pense.
(Oeures.3l3-ll i6

In this letter are several indications of the nature of

his project. It is characterized, flrst of all. bl a p'rrga-
tive quality. He is preparing to turn from the "'-rnrea-"
life of corrupt society to the "real" life u'hich in this iet:er
is referred to as "l'inconnu," suggesting a desire for spi:-
ituality at some level, although at this point it concerns
more his anger than a thirst for divinity. He indicates en-
gagement is an act of purgative detachment rvhen he tells
Izambard he is on strike from working: he detaches him-
self from society, and impoverishes himself by striking, as
a means of carrying out his greater duty to society, which
he says early in the letter is to serve up the "stupidest,
meanest, rottenest things"he can think of. both literally
and poetically. One senses that he sees little difference
between his literal vulgarities and his poetic vulgarities.
Further, he speaks of the sufferings which u,'ill result
from "le d6rbglement de tous ies sens.'' clearll' pointing
to Underhill's concept of mortification. He is going to
remake himself il the most drastic and deliberate \\-avs.
This is born ,:':: :i' :is distinction bel':-een "'€ :le:tse"

I
 Illumination
The third stage of the mystic wa1- is Illumination.
Underhill outlines three main characteristics: 1) a joy-
ous apprehension of the absolute; 2) a claritl' of vision of
natural phenomena (in which everl'thing appears as it is,
infinite); and 3) an increase in energl' of the intuitional
or transcendental self, as reveaied in auditions, dialogues
rvith divinities, and visions (Mysticism. 240). At least
some of Rimbaud's poetry seems to reflect all three of
these characteristics, but the problem of the authenticity
of his vision is complicated at the stage of Illuminaiion
in several ways.
First, Rimbaud never explicitly says that he "had a
m-vstical vision," and although there is circumstantial bi-
ographical information to suggest he was indeed having
ill'stical illuminations, as well as reading widely in the oc-
cult and hermetic literature of the time, the only evidence
of his contemplative activity is in the poetry. Second,
Rimbaud's spiritual program is so unconventional that it
does not neatly correspond to the experiences of more re-
ligious or morally-grounded mystics such as (to take ran-
dom examples) St. Augustine or St. Teresa. It is bourid
up even more problematically with his anger and bitter-
ness toward society generaily. His spiritual au,akening
began with the arvareness of moral decay, and his project
being to detach himself from alL conventional moralitl'.
..= ::'.=:-. :s lequired to disrupt and disorder everl'thing he
:.,-.-' : -: ---::-'.tli. inciuding ali moral behaviol for bet-
::: -: - :==-;.;hich he has learned from church. mother
Siice := :,:en:ifles his poetic activity with his moral
responsibilitl' to the ri'orld (and to himself), then the po-
ems seem to be authentic markers of his own moral. and
thelefore spiritual, experience, hor.vevel violent or uncon-
ventional. In "Le Bateau ivre," written at or not long
after the time of the uogant letters, Rimbaud describes a
highly symbolic voyage from European harbors and com-
merce out into "le Pobme I De la N{er," where the pro-
tagonist of the poem (a boat) is blown wildly from and
through one bizarre scene after another. These images
seem to symbolize the state of a soul seeking and encoun-
tering "l'inconnu," and by the end of the poem the boat
retuLns, exhausted by the experience, to "Ia flache / Noire
et froide" of Europe,e a sensibility associated with a child-
Iike desire to return to the safe, if ennui-laden, knorvn. In
a way the poem prefigures and describes Rimbaud's en-
tire teenage 1ife, as he rvould spend the next two years in-
tensell'pursuing the unknou'n and eventually come back
to ]:albor. in his ori'n rvar', after describing the exhausting
=:.::=::e::ce in Llne Saison en enfer.
"Le Bateau ivre" may or may not represent a true
contemplative experience for Rimbaud, but some later
poetrr'. especially a number of the llluminations (most of
them probably written after "Le Bateau ivre" and some,
possibly, afler Une Saison) seem to reveal that Rimbaud's
purgative activity resulted in an illuminative state, at
least at times. Ciements' terminology for identifying con-
templative poetrf is useful at this point. Citing \\r. T.
Stace's distinction betrveen an "extrovertive" mystical vi-
sion, which is "the awareness of an immanent divinity
E.
through the redeemed senses. : .
sion. which is a "conscioust:t.. , - -,
beyond all the senses," Cleme-:. -,.
teristics which are present in . -:,--
or reflections of the tu,o kinds - : -. .
of these characteristics are pa::., --
portant: a unifying visiotl oi :...--:'
tary consciousness. AIso ::.s=:'-: .:-'
objectivity or realitl': fe=-r:-=. : - -
Rimbaud's poeir'.' '::=:::-:s problems in this context
because underll-ing a.^. :..=-.e categories is a conventional
sense of beautr'. gooc. :-r^r civinitl': his culture being de-
voted at least outri'arc-'.' :o these conventional religious
and molal qualities. Rinibaud ri,as usually at pains to
deny or disfigure them. both in himself and in his poems.
After "Le Bateau ivre'' he rvrote some extremely vulgar
poems (even for our much more free-thinking age), none
of u,hich concern this discussion except to point up the
nature of his spiritual/poetic program.
Some poems do fit, horvever, particularly in the sense
of the extrovertive vision. In a sequence called Fr?fes
de la Patience, written in late spring of 1872, the poem
"L'Eternit6" begins and ends rvith this stanza:
Elle est retrour'6e.
Quoi? L'Eternitti.
C'est 1a mer a1l6e
Avec le soleil.
::
I Oeut're,.'-;
The word "eternitl'' imr:iec::ate^'.'!'i..':--- - .--. --- :;
sensibility, and "the sea gol1e r':t:- :---. . .-- ; -
-- ::-t
image of a blending. uuiff ing hol':zc:- I---.- =-: -:'-..-.'. even
though in the natural s'orld the sett::-s :.::- dppears to go
into or "rvith" the sea. the speaker o: the poem here re-
verses that motion and depicts the sea going into the sun.
This reversal is a kind of paradoxicality of image which
reinforces, using Clements' terms, the idea that a mysti-
cal vision is being desclibed. The fact that the speaker
says eternity "is recovered" iuplies an objectivity of pos-
session, maybe of knorvledge, and suggests the speaker's
self has glimpsed or experienced, in the paradoxical im-
age, a unifying vision of realitl'.
In follorving stanzas the speaker addresses an "Ame
sentinelle" ("guardian spirit"), rvhich entails a dialogue
with a divinitf in a sense, colrespondir-rg to Underhill's I1-
luminative stage in which a transcendental or intuitional
self engages in dialogues u,ith dir.inities. This dialogue
is part of "l'6ternit6," undoubtedll-. ai-rd he speaks ol the
spirlt being disengaged from human suffelings and cor:-
mon impulses, "flying accoldingll'." plesnliablv or.n -:
tempolal restrictions and colicen-is :r:tc .. sp-r'-:'.:... :'ee-..:-.
The poem begins and ends rviti. :1.= .::...:- . ' : j:.. - - r.:
with the sun, and so the vision ::.=.- -. -.. ., :
image, an extrovertive r.r.r1'stical €\i,:--.:-. : -
ity of vision corresponds. sin-rilarll'. IC, I:. -=- --... . -
characteristic of Illumination. the clarltl'' ,-; -.... - .. - t--
ural phenomena.
The difficulty noted aboi'e is that the p-:i-- .:r: -:
not, as in Underhill's terms. a 'jo1'ous" ap::::ension of
the Absolute! or as in Clements' terms. :tt-::-:s --: blessed-
ness or peace. Instead, the "Ame ser:r::--=.-=" is "disentan-
gled" from human concerns, and irs 1;1',' ;s "discharged"
("Le Devoir s'exhale / Sans qu'ol ,::se: enin" ).12 There is
asense of relief, here, but not j,l\': l:: rhe next stanza, "Le
supplice est s0r."13 But this is the nature of Rimbaud's
mystical experience because it is the nature of the purga-
tive process he himself has initiated and is. in N,Iay 1872,
practicing. He tells Ernest Delahaye in a letter dated
June 1872 that he *'orks al1 night in his attic room in
Paris, goes to buy bread at five A.N{., sleeps until seven,
the,rr drinks all morning (Oeuures,351): the disordering
of his senses is apparently revealing to him whatever is
described in "L'Eternit6." He is not experiencing conven-
tional joy, given the way he is proceeding ("C'est Ie plus
d6licat et Ie plus tremblant des habits, que I'ivresse par 1a
vertu de cette sauge des glaciers, 1'absomphe! N,Iais pour.
aprbs, se coucher dans la merde!" (Oeuures,350),14 but
he is succeeding in attaining to a vision of some kind, as
:\e poem describes.
The next poem in the sequence, "Age d'or," con-
:=r:rs angelic voices singing to or about the speaker of
:.-= roern. again. a kind of dialogue r,vith divinities sug-
:::::ls that the energ]' of Rimbaud's intuitional self is
: --.-''er:'.r--',- heightened. And two poems among the lllu-
niinations. "Aube" and "tr,{atin6e d'ivresse" (the latter'
perhaps having been ri'ritten around the same time as
"L'Eternit6"), bring Rimbaud's illuminative experience
more sharply into focus.
"Aube" reflects the extrovertive "Vision of Dame
Kind," or vision of nature.15 The opening sentence "J'ai
embrass6 l'aube d' 616" ( O euures, 284)rG in-
-immediately
dicates a union of some sort is taking place as an embrace.
The next paragraph evokes a sense of stillness and natu-
-.^- r;eaun'. beginning rvith "Rien ne bougeait encore au
front cies pa1ais."17 The rvord "palais" cails to mind the
''chAteaux'' of "O Saisons, 6 ch6,teaur," rvhich Gu'endol1'n
Ba1's explains refer to the occult castles symbolizing the
seven stages of spiritual enlightenment in the Zohar.15
ar.rd is therefore a cue to understanding that a spilitual
encounter is taking piace. The stillness of the scene re-
flects the sense of peace in Clements' terms, and in the
next paragraph a flower speaks to the speaker. an audi-
tion uruch like a dialogue rvith a divinity.
Then, as the speaker laughs at a rvhite rvaterfall. re-
flecting a rare occasion of jo1, for Rirnbaud, he recognizes
the goddess: 'je reconnus Ia d6esse."19 We are clearly in
the vicinity of divinity at this point, and in a common oc-
cult symbol for spiritual enlightenment, 'je levai un d un
les voiles."20 The speaker then proceeds to chase the god-
dess through a series of settings, and he finally encounters
her near a stand of laurel trees (symbolic of poetic activ-
iti.) and enwraps or surrounds her with her orvn veils:
je I'aientour6e avec ses voiies amass6s, et j'ai
senti un peu son immense co.ps.21
The goddess he en'rbraces is dan'tl herself. clearll- a fig-
ure of enlightelr:^e:::. r'.'::h the multiplicin- ol r.eanit:qs
inherent in:]::.:'.''::, :.. a-: :l:.i: :he l:':|-: :,iia"r'l: b:ea!:-
ing, a light of spiritua- l=.:- -----'----.' ';':-en^ r-ells are
lifted to rer-eal lighr: a:-- r:'.,.:- -. ::-r:'::a- igure. im-
plying the immanence o: j:'.'-:..::'. :! :.a: -i:e. iigh:. flori'ers.
woods.
At the end. "L'aube e: i'enfant tornbbrent au bas
du bois.''22 accomplishing the erotic colnponents of the
poern, from lifted veils to chase. It is an erotic union of
the speaker rvith das,n as a figure of nature in rvhich, not
only do they embrace and unifl'. but the ego is lost, at the
moment of union, in an oblivion characteristic of mvsti-
cal experience: after falling. "-\u :e-'.'::l :l 6tait tr::c:.':l
and the poem ends.
l'e\'tr]'::: :--. ----. :. :
Or.ll ;:,..= - : .- -...= .-
,- -t ,-
allu
.
llur1... tl\ tr-- :..
-- -. - -.-
is to faIl. that rs. :J i-.,:-:..:. -.-: --.- -. - --. -r - :l
nolion that sexual acli\'-:'. -: r :-r- : . - : . ---r -.r-.
from the innocent to the fallen *'ol1o. -i: :he san,e ::n.e.
the child falls into the rvoods, ri'hich, if read as a figure
of Eden, indicates a return to a prelapsarian state. The
disturbance and apparently paradoxical use of these fig-
ures represent Rimbaud's translation of his orvn personal
activity into poetic figures. He is describing his o\vn con-
fusing but intense spiritual u,orld.
" \{atin6e d'ivresse ' similar l'.' : =i=:: - ' -., -
ence and the rnean-. c,: ?-:-. : - -'
Jl-r. :1,.2<o; i:..:-- ,- - -
E1-L: --- --: .---
D]
pures: ior-e:
afin que nous arnemon-< noire trEs p':: amour.
Ceia commenqa par quelques d6gouts et cela
finit. ne pou\'ant nous saisir sur-le-champ de
cette 6ternit6,-cela finit par une d6bandade de
parfutns.26
There is a sense of joy here, and a sense of divin-
ity in "6ternit6" and the promise, which is "d'enterrer
dans l'ombre I'arbre du bien et du mal, de d6porter les
honn6tet6s tyranniques.'27 'The paragraph ends rvitl.i en-
phasis on a beginning and an end. rvhich reinforces a- >::---y
of some eternal unitl' operating in the possess.::- -: -: .' -
and Beautr'. The loosening of fragralces :.: ::-= ::- - --
get:-er n'::h rhe eallier praise c,i ::-e'ccc'''. :::.;,-= : - = ;::-+
..'.:..:.,...:.,..,.......,--.:-.-:.--..:....:.;--:.
I
-,
"Aube," and touches on the same vision oi na-l::r.
A sense of unity is also reflected in rhe progression of
personal pronouns. "N{oi" and "je.'' suggesting the per-
sonal ego, rapidly become "nous" ("nous rassen.rblons fer-
vemment cette promesse" ), rvhich seems to broaden a now
illuminated self into the generalized self or spirit. In the
second paragraph the speaker introduces a ".,'ous" into
the situation, creating, again, a dialogue. This is not with
a divinity, particularly, but with the method itself: "Rire
des enfants, discr6tion des esclaves, aust6rit6 des vierges,
horreur des figures et des objets d'ici, sacr6s soyez-vous
par le souvenir de cette veille."28 In the third paragraph
u,e hear: "Nous t'affirmons, m6thode!"29 where the more
distant "vous" has become the closer "tu," signifying
elot'ing intensity and relation.
There is a strong sense that the speaker, an illumi-
nated and generalized self, time, the method, and its
resuLts are unified at this crystal poetic moment. The
method, or vigil itself is holy: "Petite veille d'ivresse,
saintel,"30 and we are placed, through the poem, in Rim-
baud's inclusive vision of reality.
The word "ivresse," horvever, calls attention to the
same difficulties of mystical conventiou noted before.
While the speaker's cheering early in the poem reflects
a kind of joy of attainment, it has been achieved not by
conventional spiritual toils ar.rd sufferings, but by the tak-
: . :- :::::: ,:a.:l: iOUteS nOS VeinS m6me
-
, -.-. - ... ..--'...-:- : :l-:-a.lt. nOLIS SeIOnS rendUS
j . a-'- -.= -.:.= :--:..-:::. -:-:=. O n]aitltenant, I]OUS Si
ciigne ce ces torturesl ra,.semblons fervemment
cettepromesse. . 3i
Indeed, his cheering comes amid a "fanfare atroce,"
and he makes parallel "cette promesse, cette d6mence!
L'6l6gance, la science, la violence!" The alignment of
ideas of atrocity, poison, discord, torture, dementia, and
violence with ideas of Good, Beauty, fanfare, spiritual
promise, and elegance points to the paradoxical unity of
tl're method and the experience, or further, of suffering
a.r,i enlightenment, even of evil and good. The idea of this
kind of unitf is traceable back to Baudelaire, no doubt.
but even more important is its indication that Rimbaud
is describing horv his personal ternporal project of disor'-
dering all the senses, including his moral sense, is unified
rvith-or is-his poetic act.
When the speaker says tolvard the end, "Nous
n'oublions pas que ti-r as g1orifl6 hier chacun de nos Ages.
Nous ar-ons foi 1e poison. Nous savors donner notre vie
to'.rl entidre tous les jours,"32 v/e at'e retnrned to the sense
,: '6ternit6'' ol earlier in the poem. Here life, in the sense
,: rhe generalized spirit, goes rvholly into every day, in a
inion of personal experience and eternitl'. The last sen-
tence, "Voici Ie temps des ,,{ssassrns." brings his sense
of an eternal pressll-"temps"-together v,ith the nega-
tive, poisonous aspect of the coutext. and subtly indicates
the source of the disordering n'hich has resulted in this
illumination: the ''-{ssa.ssins. as nranl' clitics point out.
were a group of literal assasslns referred to by Baudelaire
in Les Paradi.s arli.'.ciels. t'ho smoked hashish in prepa-
}I
ration to do their work. The me:l--' - -.'-' .:..:erience and
the poem are unified in this se:--s=
Other poerns among the 1. -' - - - - . :effect mysti-
cal illuminative qualities, oftel '.-. -.-.::-::::ed energy of
the intuitional self, with parac-:... .. .:-r difficult) im-
agery and a sense of a uniF'-:-: ..-.---- :sually of na-
ture). Among these are vis:.:-. '.=:---':-,ed in "Fieurs,"
"Veil16es," and "X'IystiqLre. e:- - :.--: -.:-'.'e narratives such
as ttConte" and ttRovaute."
The period of Rir:-rba',- s --:t ::r n'irich these beauti-
ful but tortured exper:e:-.::s a.pparenth' occurred, how-
ever, did not last for::-:,:e:han about two years, dur-
ing 1871-73. Rimbaud's re-arionship with Veriaine blos-
somed and degenerateci ciuring this period, and his insis-
tence on pushing his "cilsordeling'' experiences brought
him to a point of exhausrion. perhaps, when he returned
to his mother's farrn at Roche, having been shot in the
wrist by Verlaine at the nadir of tl-reir emotional relation-
ship. It was during this period, the summer of 1873, tliat
he completed Une Saison en enfer, his sister claims to
have heard him pacing up and down in the loft rvhere
he worked, smashing things and cursing violently as if he
rvas actually brawling with someone or thing.
Dark Night of the Soul
Une Saison is a record of his spiritual nightmare, and
corresponds with Underhill's fourth stage in the mystic
way. the Dark Night of the Soul. Before outlining this
stage, though, it will be helpful to recount bricflr' Gu.en-
dolyn Bays's idea about rvhat happened to R:::.:,a.ucl at
this point. Bays argues that two kinds ol po::: ,.-:.- ::t
the mystical process: one is the seer poer. a.:... -..- ., : ,-
the trtte mystic. The seer poet never ach:e-,.. :: : r.. :::c
unity, rvhereas the mystic poet does acl--=','. :---- -\cso-
lute. "\\Ie see the Symbolists' search :or the -\bsolute
(the Plotinian-Christian m,r,'stic experience) as their lhe-
oretical ideal," she says, "u,hile in fact thel, erroneously
sought to achieve this on the paths of occr:ltism and the
unconscions" (Orphic Visi,on, l4). The error, she says,
consists of a misunderstanding about the components of
consciousness. She argues rhat thele are not only trvo
components. the conscious and the unconscious. but also
a third. the superconscions. \\-hile the conscious and un-
conscious are essentiall.r' pelso:ta.l. tl're sriperconscious is
that palt of the mind ri'it:cl: :- ::rtes ol cjivinitv or the
Absolute. The errol of :i,e.==t.- ,=: .s tlt.,: ite delr-es.
rvith artificial probes such as C-'..: .... :-,:.s:r-. c,:'dlean.l
interpretation. into the ur-ic:,:.. .-..- ., -.- i-:'; ,.-:.^='.'-
lather than outrvald tori'alc:..= .:. - .--
Rimbaud is her principa, e:,:..,..' .- : ' : ..-
ror. Bays's discussion touches t-:-,..
the Dark Night of the Soul. n-li:::. -.'. --
:
sorting-house between nature mvs:::. .: -'
minated vision, and great spirits i:'.'.'=.. - .
to know (ltlysticism. 383). A poe: .....= --..' ' ,
used hashish and absinthe, as r,"'eli as :--. - '. , .
to disorder his senses, is seeking knorrleciEe. :i: j : '-
sion personally, rather than seeking true bei:-.. -:. :, - -
"erms, he is exploring his unconscious rati:er i..--.r- t-
 coming aware through his superconscious. ani must fail tion of the innocenc. :.-.:.-. r..:.-::-. --.= s'::-'ecled himself to
in trying to achieve the Absolute. the sufferir-rgs of tie p:.:-.:: Ti-e
This failure-or even apparent far.ure on rhe part of =ethod did culminate
in momentary sparklinr-= c: ceautl' and happiness: "En-
"great spirits" who eventuallv ri'i.- achiere the unitive fin,6 bonheur. o raison. j'ecartai du ciel I'azur. qui est
life-gives rise to the Dark \ighr oi the Soul. Psycho- du noir, et je r'6cus. 6tincelle d'or de la lumibre nature.
iogically, says Underhill. the Dark \ight is a period of De joie, je prenais une expression bouffonne et 6gar6e au
exhaustion of the nervous sl'stem. as the human body possible" (Oeuures, 232).34
cannot sustain the prodigious energy expended in the Il- It was, however, also mixed rvith horrors. As the
luminative state. The Dark Night is characterized by illuminations subsided, the sense of distance set in. and
"mental and moral disorder." in which the mystic (or in the method came to seem false to him: "l'action n'es:
Bays's terms. the seer) loses touch with both spiritual and pas la vie, mais une fagon de gAcier cuelque force. ,:-
lvorldiy affairs and things seem to go wrong generally. In 6nervement. La morale est la fa:: -=ss: --: -.- , =:-. . --.
the Dark Night the self realizes two significant things: 1)
a
the distance or absence of the Absolute which the self
has sensed in the Illuminative state, and 2) its own weak- menac6e." he sa.,'.. .. - - - --
ness and imperfection (Mysticism,387). In addition this FrL:-l-..:'. :... -.::' . --
state is characterized by a complete emotionai lassitude \\'€c.ll-:'- .--.:- --. ...'.'-
and ennui which seems insurmountable; a stagnation of a:'e t . . ... . ..'...
rvill or intelligence; and an acute desire to see God, which B ____ ._

is extremely painful when the mystics "begin to outgrou, Se:e.-::- - -:'- -:-
their illuminated consciousness [and] begin also to realize ct'-
- -.-
horr,partial and symbolic that consciousness-even at its
best-has been" (Mgsticism, 394). Il)OI'r' :-ji-:a -cl.l.' -..
\\'ith Rimbaud there is a clear sense of nervous ex- Bienl Orno,Bt..".. -
haustion in the later events of his relationship with Ver- =....
ined it $-ould be. rI i: :-::-.-.-.:.. ....:.-- : -.. .

iaine. In London and Belgium in the summer of 1873 it his personal ego. and unuranageab^e ir: :l.o,.e :e:;:-s. -d..
became clear even to Veriaine, who had clung to Rimbaud "immense" life is that generalized spiritual life rvhich he
rvith pathetic anguish, that he should ieave. In the emo- ]rad touched but, having plumbed his unconscious rather
tional disorder of the moment, Rimbaud in ietters tried than his superconscious, could not sustain.
desperately to call Verlaine back to London one day, then Similarly, through the chapter "Nuit de i'enfer." there
a ferv days later coolly reprimanded him for his erratic be- is a sense of his ou,n personal ego. his arrogance-.. ',r'irer'e
havior. When they met in Brussels in Juiy, Rimbaud, ex- itis the persistent "I" t'hicli crits hir:.r:1f: ... .-
hausted and fearful for Verlaine, insisted he u,as returning unitir.e experience. He i':.,-. .-,:---...
to France, and Verlaine pulled out a gun and shot him. '2-ll'.:9 :': "..- - - .-
Ir, a general sense, things had gone completell' wrong. a- ..'
:..a:.-c:eristic of personal events in the Dark Night.
Tire "rnental and moral disorder" Underhiil describes :--- .

is particularll' acute in Rimbaud because he had been

cultitating these things as part of his purgative prograrn.
\\-hen he reached the stage of the Dark Night. he had .

constructed for hirnself an almost impossible situation t.- '

in ri'hich he had achieved illumination by means of the ., :

disordering of his own mind, or in Ba1,s's tertns, uncon-
scious, from which the Absolute is unattainable. One rea- ._.

son Rimbaud's biography is so compelling is his almost l-.,r:,::'.--:-: -: - - -:--

Faust-Iike insistence, for three years. on a spiritual pursuit
whose rnethods seem almost fore-doomed to ultimate fail-
ure. (Intelestingly, Rimbaud was reading Goethe's Fausl
during the summer of 1873.)
Une Sai,son en enfer, rvhose draft title lvas Fausse
conuers'ion, recounts the entire project. Particularly
salient is Rimbaud's figurative analysis of his own weak-
ness and imperfection, and especially of the imperfec-
tion of his method. Where in "X"Iatin6e d'itresse" he
extolled the success of the method ("Nous t'affirmons,
m6thode!"), in the section of Une Saisor't titled "Alchimie
du verbe" Rin-rbaud recounts ''L'histoire d'une de mes
folies,"33 rvhich is his life as a t'oyant \\'hile this sec-
tion is often in:erpre:ed as derision of his occult poetic.
there is also a...:-:: :: i.ls asto:tishutent at the realiza-
Ceilil--,<:l'i:.i,,. -,,i. - : --- -,,--: --,-:-.' '€ l)t'-
cause. ri'i.e:-;::-a-.t :t--.,,.:tas,_;::'aie il,.- .. '..-. ..: ..tures of
a leligiou,. or at ieast a sociai backgror-rr-u. R;ntbaud put
himself completell' outslde all spiritual. nroral and social
experience. and had nothing io fa]l back on in I'ris agonies.
Although all mystics express a sense of abandonment and
aloneness during the Dark Night, Rimbaud is particularll'
isolated because of his nearly total alienation.a0 The dif-
ficulty Rimbaud has to grapple u'ith at this tnonrelt ;r.
the mystic rvay' is u,hether to proceed throriglt i .: :
agonies-in the face of real despair or to t.'-::.' ---
project as impossible. He chalts the a.::r:'.:,:.-
itr.oir},es1tr.ratioil.itlthecha:ll.:l.''L.]:..:--
..--:- t,i, ., .:. -:-,'. :- -'- - ' '...--..
l- -' :: - .i -,.---.-.- - ---

I
 depuis cette d6claration de Ia science' -e tl:'s-
tianisme, l'homme se joue. se :rc -\'t 'es
6vidences, se gonfle du plaisir de rep6ter des
preuves. et ne vit que comme cela? . Torture
subtile, niaise; source de mes ditagations spir-
ituelles. La nature pourrait s'ennuver' peut-etre!
N,'I. Prudhomme est n6 avec Ie Christ'
(Oeuures,235, 236)41
In these lines a spiritual life seems to be hopeiessly over-
fo*."a by the world at large. and he.thought (previ-
tusty) tnat everyone was damned in it' The rvorld of rvest-
ern tuiture seems to present an im^possible spiritual situ-
ation: "Les marais occidentaux!"42 and the impossibility
:s precisely that "Par l'espr^it on va d Dieul D6chirante
ir:tltuneli (Oeuures, 237).43
The Game of Love
But this chapter, which follows "D6iires" (including
"Aichimie clu verte"), indicates a turning point ol a shift
out of the darkest part of the Dark Night and a return
to a more hopeful disposition. Underhitl ca1ls the play of
hope and hopelessnesi, llght and dark, presence and ab-
,.l,... of ,oytii" awareness which occurs through all stages
lfr. ,ryrti" way, "The Game of Lot'e'" As Rirnbaud
"i
.,rorks his ro,a.v* through his Dark Night' the GanTe of Love
. - I::-:''s=,b]." t..'.,,.,.,.s. atrd a kind of faith is restored'
-. , 1-... . : Lc,''e ls plaved out not only inter-
'- . ...:--,::-.---'.' - ::-:ls tlle u'riting of Une Sai-
' : -r: --= '-..i .:--.--':--:::g heard b1' Ritnbaud's sister
:.--:: ,,-r-- .-,,.--, i: -:. ::, -.1:e sufferitlgs he felt, it is iden-
-r
tica, :o :l--: .-;-, ;::,":-::llg: his spilitual u'ork is literally
his poetic rvork. a Process of unfolding and recurrent illu-
rnination and darknessl nearlless and farness of the Ab-
solute, rvhich in a ferv pages rvill transiate into the more
graspable moral and social ideals, truth and justice'
" The faith which begins to be restored at the stage of
"L'Irrpossible," however, drives him not toward the "be-
ing" desired by the great spirits Underhill speaks of, nor
toivard the desire for knorvledge. (He says at the outset of
the chapter: "Je m'6vade . . . je m'explique.")aa Instead,
thoroughly modern, he abandons the original method'
rvhich was poetic, and resolr'es to live in the fallen, corrupt
world-the "Occident." A spiritual world' cottespond-
ing ideally to the Garden of Eden-or in "L'Impossible."
th; "Orient"-is impossible. not a reality: "L'esprit est
autorit6, il veut que je sois en Occident," he says in
45
"L'Impossible.''
lrr the r-rext chapter. ''L'Eclair"' the new vision is
cl-..-:.. :=::zed as an inclusive unification of worldly and
.' ..: -.-- '.'.'o:k and suffering: the Occident is the neces-
.'..'.' ....,- -egitin-rate place of spiritual rvork: "Le travail
,. :::-.a.ll c'est l'explosion qui 6claire mon abime de temps
e:r ientps'' (Oeuures,238).46 His project now rvill be, not
to disoider all his senses and suffer the foredoomed defeat
of dqlving into the unconscious. but instead to rn'ork in the
world. "ie ne sais plus parler!" he sa1's in "N'Iatin,"47 ar-
ticulating the sense that the alchemy of t'ords is behind
him. Hels still a spirituai being. but accepts the fact of
his own bodl'. his o*'n ph1'sical existence: he speaks of
"les trois lrtages. le cceur. I'ame. i'esprit" which are not
E.
!
moved, or in more philosophic :=---'' "'--'e-l:ging'.and
ends the chapter in i validati'-'r'- : : ''-.-rie in all its
,a-ifications, "Esclaves, ne 11-'' - --:: '-- : " -a vie" (Oeu-
ures' 239)-'aB
Finally, the last chapter rll : r- ' 't' ..Adieu.,' ex-
:' ---- '':-i spirit, and in
p..rr.. a Leiief in the realitl' ':'
ihe validity of work as a nl'-rr:-'-- -= iolllbat spirittiel
est aussi brutal que 1a ba-:.----, - -- ::-:r-es: nrais la vision
.^- ^ ::"t-"
a" f":".ti." est 1e pla:sl: -. ' Oeuures' 247),4e
he savs. The well-inc'.' :- .=:--:r:--ce "Ii laut 6tre absolu-
,nentLoderne"50 reflec:s i-::-'l'a'.rd s acceptance' in mod-
ern material terms. o: .- .r-::c of prilnacl' of the physical
u''orld. In this sense il:t sp:r'itual u'orld and the physi-
cal u,'orld are interreiatec. atld the rvork and sufferings
of physical life are d.rir-en bv spiritual need' His last sen-
tence is, "il me sera loisibie de possdder la adritd dans une
6,me et corps" (.Oeut'res.241).51 These are tire words
un
of someone rvho has come through spiritual devastation'
the Dark Night of the Soul. without the safety nets of
societl'. He seizes the modern beiief in
religion o.
".i"n of physical reaiity and translates it into a
thelmportance
nerv spiritual project. In this he exemplifies alienated, in-
dustrial humanity, and devises a u'ay of continuing on a
spiritual path, although he is ng longer part of the mys-
tic u,ay described by Unclerhill. Instead, he rledicates the
rest oi his life, unlucky as it continues to be, to escaping
the "Occident" by rvorking through it.
He rvrote no poetry after this, not because he re-
nounced literature in a graud gesture of disdain, but be-
cause he abandoned that method of spiritual develop-
ment. Poetrl' r'vas a method of living for Rimba"rcl l:
put him in an Illuminated mystic state :c': a- ie" "''-'':s'
ancl it reflected progress along the cltrs-':c l-- :'-- r':]" as
evidenced in the poetrl'. But it was ulls.;ccc-..:.i' :n strip-
ping away the entire self as preparatioll for the unitive
iife, partly because it r.vas an exploration of the uncon-
scioui rat,her than a route through the superconscious,
and partly because, working completell' alone, he had no
geneiatizecl spiritual support from church or anv other
social institution.
Rimbaud's experience is compelling partly as per-
sonal instruction about spirituai development. and partll'
as general instruction about the reiation ofthe poet to the
*ol".rl lvorld: being perpetuallr'outside his culture' soci-
ety and religion, he exemplifies the conplicated and ardu-
ous difficulties of spiritual actir':l',' :tl o',lr tille As Hellr'''
N'liller forcefully perceives, "His -a':,:. :.-ile :s tile lallg'-ia':'
of the spirit. not of rveights. lll€r:- lr ' :. - i.t -Il'i'rl :'-
tions. In this alone he revealeci i- "' - - --=-" :'- '
he was" (The Time of the Assc..', li -:--' ' - :
mained interested in publishing Ie ' --
he remained interested in spiritua- :-: -'-:
is not a "farelell" to literature. bu:--- ---
-
an old and dangerous \\ray of comit.,=
American Uniuersi,tY in Bulgaria
 Notes recline in shil after=;--: i:;---= J^5 .
1 Henry N,{iller,
15
A categorl' C-e-=:-:= ':"r::on-s from \\-.H. Auden:
Time o/ l:. : --l ; s : s :irLs: A Stud,u
The see Poetry of Conterr,pi:::--:. 9-10. 1i-1. and also -A.uden's
of Rimbaud (New York: New Direcr:ons. i956). gg; here- "Four Kinds of \I1'stica- Experience.'' in Understand,ing
after cited parenthetically. Mysticism. Richard \\bods. ed. (Garden City. NY: Image
2 See Enid
Starkie's summaiJ' of these arguments in Books, 1980). 379-99.
part two, chap. 6, 213-12. of -lrthur Rimbaud. A,{ost of 16
Trarrs., I embraced the summer dawn.
the biographical information giren throughout this essay 17 Tlans.: Nothing stirred. even in
front of the
is drawn from this book. palaces.
3 Evelyn Underhill, lvlysticism:
A Stud,y i.n the Na- 18
ture and Deuelopment oJ Man's Sp,irr,tual Consciousness
(1900; repr., New York: E. P. Dutton, 1961); hereafter
I cited, parenthetically.
a Original quotations from
Rimbaud, hereafter cited
t parenthetically, are from Oeuures, ed. Suzanne Bernard
. (Paris: Editions Garniers FYdres, 1960). N,Iost of the
translations are taken from Wallace Fowlie, translator.
Rimbaud: Complete Works, Selected Letters (Chicago:
Univ. of Chicago Press, 1966); translations not marked
as Forvlie's are my orvn. tans.: "Really, it's stupid, tliese bodr'
village churches / Where fifteen ugly brats dirtying the
pillars / Listen to a grotesque priest whose shoes stink 1
As he mouths the divine babble."
5 Trans.: I will be a worker: this idea holds
me back
u'hen mad anger drives me toward the battle of Paris
. . . Work now?-never, never, I am on strike (Forviie,
303).
6
Tlans.: Norv, I am degrading myself as much as pos-
sible . . . It is a question of reaching the unknown by the
derangement of ali the senses. The sufferings are enor-
mous, but one has to be strong, one has to be born a
poet, and I know I am a poet. This is not at all my fault.
It is rvrong to say: I think. One ought to sa1,': people
think me (Forvlie, 303).
7 Tlans.: Universal intelligence has alrr'a1's rhron,n
-'^: ::s ideas naturally (Forvlie, 307).
t ^:'ans.: The first study of the man r.,'ho -'-.'.::. :,
ie .. r-,.!.: :s the knowledge of himseif. corlpiere. I= - .:.
:;:' 1::s sc -11. inspects it. tests it, Iearns it. --\: :- t. -
lrc it-i-.'.': ::. he rnu:t cultir-ate itl h .eertrt --..'-.
elerv nrind a natural development takes place: ,<,1 :-::l
egoists call themseh'es author): thele are rnai.r' .:..... .
rr'Lo attribute their intellectual progress to thernsch'r.i - :
But the soul nrust be made monstrous . . . I sa1'or-e 1r'. r:-
beaseer.lnakeonese]faseel'.ThePoetmakes}lirrlse.:.
seel b1' a lorrg. gigantic and lational derangenrcnr of e... :..:-_.. :.:.. . ....... . ..- : ::...
the senses (Fowlie. 307). brain. (Fon-lie. 199,1
e Tlans.: the black cold puddle (Fowlie, 121) 36 Trans.,
10
/ \Iv health lr'as threatened. Terror came
Arthur L. Clements. Poetry of Contemplation: (Fowlie, 201).
John Donne, George Herbert, Henry Vaughan and the 37 1yans.: I had been damned by the rainbow. Hap-
Modern Period (Albany: State Univ. of New York Press, piness was my fatality, my remorse, my lvorm. \,,Iy life
1990),.6-7. would always be too i--"r." to be devoted to strength
11 Trans., It's found again.
f What? Eternity. I and beauty (Fowlie, 201).
38 Ttans., I possesi every talent!-There is no one
It's the sea gone / With the sun.
12 Trarrs., Duty is
discharged / Without saying: fi- here and there is someone (Fou,lie. 185).
nalIy.
13 Trans.: "'Traus.:I should have hell for ut1'arrger. fu:;:. .-
Agonl,'s certain. and the hell of caresses: a concert oi he-ls. I al:- .' ...- :
14 Trarrs.' It is the most delicate. the most tremu-
rveariness (Fowlie. 187).
lous of garments-this drunkenness induced b1' r'irtue of 4o Henrr'\Iiller. in The T
that sage of the g-aciers. absomphe 'absinth)l In order to gests that .o.i"t',' is as much :o'
| !
--
-
-
for this isolation, and in this sense Rimbauo exe:-'p^iies'
or is for Miller, the essence of modern man atlci lie true
moderu poet.
41 tlarrr.' Heavens! Aren't there enough of us n'ho
are damned here below? (Fowlie, 203): sir-rce the decla-
ration of science, and Christianity. man deludes himself,
proving obvious truth, puffing up rvith the pleasure of re-
peatinE his proofs, and-living onlf in this wa1'? A-subtle,
iidiculout torture; source of m1' spirituai meanderiugs'
Nature might be bored perhapsl \I' Prudhomme \vas
born with Christ (Fowlie, 203)'
42 tans.' The western s\'\rampsl (Forvlie, 203)'
43 Trans.: Through the spirit one goes to God' What
heartbreaking misfortune! (Fowlie, 205)'
aa Trans., Am I escaping? I am explaining (Fowlie,
2031.
' a5 Trans.: The spirit is authority' It wants me to be
in the West (Fowlie, 203).
a6 T.u.rs.' Work of man! This is the explosion which
lights up my abyss from time to time (Fowlie, 205)'
- nt'Tturt., i hur. forgotten how to speak! (Fowlie,
-"
207\.
''48
Trans.: The three magi, the heart, the soul, and
spirit (Fowli e, 207) Slaves, let us not curse life (Fowlie'
207).
-\ spiritual battle is as brutai as a battle
'.':=:::-. :: ':.:ice is the pleasure of God
=
Parisian Hermeticism:
Fi,n- de- Si6cle
Hermetic and Alchemical Publications in the
Bibliothbque Sainte- Genevibve
by
John F' Moffitt
11 /f arcel Duchamp (1887-1968) has been called' ap-
J,VIparently without signiflcant objection frotl the aca-
demic estabiishment, th6 ''Artist of the Century."1 Since
most readers of Cauda PaLonis have other. more literar;'
interests. I rlainll' mention that honorific title in order
:, i::'::::er:t the faci that some rrell regarded art histo-
:...-:- ::-.=:- -,:, :dl1' proclaim that Duchamp rvas and is a
'..=;-.- ;lr-portant person. This appraisal is. moreover, as
-:;c:: quantitatire as quaiitative: no$' it seems that more
,in quintity, if not in qualiti') is currentll' being pub-
Iished about Duchamp than almost an1' other of his artis-
iic contemporaries-including Picasso!2 Certainly, any
knowledgeable person must admit that s'hereas the name
of Picasso is rarely heard todaf in art schools of the
progressive persuasion, Duchamp's certainly is, in fact
is almost used as a shibboleth' Therefore, so the aca-
demic avatars of Duchampiana must agree, any sort of
10
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research-especially thelrs-dealin' =.:::- :--= enigmatic
(u,.,i the a,:::3uous a:: ::' :'rced by it)
;;;.;; ",r"o
must likervise represent a s:5r-:i'-''::: =:----'':-.''or' particu-
Iarly as a potentiaily pertinent :=" ''''-":- :o: our present
postmodernisi condition.
' As readers of. Caud,a Pat'o-": ::':"'. lecall (since my
to this eiei: .''':s published in this
very first publication
journal in 1983), for some tir:-t I l'a-i'e been preparing a
'*or.og.uphlc study exan:l,:l--a ::-e that the nolv much
"''a)'
u'as directly based on
discuied art of N{arcel D --:i-alrp
alchemy.S In order to n.iake lllv case credible, and the issue
is very-controversial in Duchaurp scholarship, it seemed
obligatory to situate Duchatlp's essentially amateurish
kinJ of hLrmetic research in the quasi-intellectual milieu
documented by esoteric u-ritings demonstrably popular
in France during Duchamp's youth, that is during the so-
called Symbolist era (1887 to ca. 1910)' Although this
is neither the time nor the place to prove my point in
detail, I do find that the poets of the Symbolist period,
ever-r the art critics in France, commonly employed con-
ventional alchemical imagery in order to make their var-
ious artistic points.a As I nou'find, and as I r,''ill norv
briefly demonstrate in partibus by examining only one
site, a public library, fin-de-sidcle Paris inust have been a
veritable hotbed of herneticism.
Following his return from a sotr'eu'hat mysterious
visit to \,{unich (Ju}y-August 1912), N{arcel Duchar.r:1
initialiy trainecl for a librarian's position at the Ecole ie'
Chartres (Nov. 1912), and then actualiy got a regular
job as a librarian in the Bibliothbque Sainte-Genevibte irr
Paris (Iday 1913 to XIay[?] 1915). N'Ian5'scholars a'<s"-::''
that he was not just earning pocket tlloller tl--t:'= - 'li
instead u'as perhaps pursuing some (as let '-i:'::r'::ied)
serious "research." As my orvn research on Duclltrrlp had
suggested, from the outset, at lemt as ear^r' as August
igll, tire evasive, eveu secretive. artist had been specif-
ically pursuing hermetic researches. As I reconstruct
the icenario, immediately follorving his first knou'n flirta-
tion with specifically alchemical iconographl-, appearing
in a painting called .gpring (executed July-August 1911),'
Duchamp evidently began to realize that the "Royal Art''
of the Aichemists merited some serious investigation' It
is a fact that only a few months later Duchamp actu-
ally did become a librarian iu the Bibliothbque Sainte-
Genevibve, rvhich itself is a significant example of pre-
moderuist, metal and glass architecture (as desigued ancl
bui1t, 1838-50, bv Henri Labrouste).
The question that then occurred to me (r'vhich is per-
haps more of iuterest to the Cauda readership) \vas: er-
actly what u,as there in the coliections of this libra:"
as opposed to some others, that would warrant tl-'
timely submission of a job application iti 1912 by \Iar'-'
Duchamp? I made my first bibliographic reconnaissa:'.
through the card-catalogues of the farnous Parisiarl -
brary in November 1981, and later re-cotlfirrned this .-."
ing in June 1995. N'ly second visit. after many of : '
holdings in the Iibrary had been filed into a compu:-i:-
ized systern some time after 1981, reveais -'orne 13-i--
tles listed under ", lch'imie," but none of t}:ese titles :'-
aIly proves pertinent to this study. i'e., or.re p:llpoill'-' :