In Oscar Wilde’s poem “The Artist,” there is inescapable intertwining of the eternal struggle of human experience– “The Sorrow that endureth forever”– and the brief moments of pleasure that allow it to continue– “The pleasure that abideth for a moment.” In this prose poem, the bronze acts the symbol for the artist’s personal experience, which is the only material from which he can fashion the work of art. The loss of love, a source of deep sorrow, experienced by the artist, is the altar to which he offers the image of Sorrow:
“Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned, and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life.”
What is truly fascinating is that this image is not transformed into that of pleasure until he fully accepts his loss: It is only then that he can set fire to the image, and harden into art the moment of pleasure. To me, this represents the artist’s way of crystallizing pleasure in such a way that it evokes joy for the spectator, but with the underlying knowledge that it comes from a place of tragedy (the bronze material).
In French symbolist poet Mallarmé’s “Apparition”, there is a sense that an aura of sorrow exists, from which a spark of beauty can be created. In the case of this poem, the “Sorrow that endureth forever” is represented through the description of beautiful things, and thus encapsulated into a piece of art.
“The moon was saddening. Seraphim in tears
Dreaming, bow in hand, in the calm of vaporous
Flowers, were drawing from dying violins
White sobs gliding down blue corollas –
It was the blessed day of your first kiss.”
Merely in this first stanza, the image of crying is superimposed onto gorgeous images of “blue corollas” and “vaporous flowers,” creating a beautiful scene out of a sorrowful moment. By presenting this continuous confusing, sorrowful existence through ethereal images, he exemplfiies the linkage between tragedy and beauty. It is difficult to imagine “dying violins”, but there a sense of decay, perhaps in a undulating minor scale which emerges from the instrument, creating a indiscernible marriage of melodic beauty with disintegrating emotion. One is immersed into a mythical garden which sensorily reflects the depths of this human feeling, when suddenly, it is punctuated by a moment of pleasure: The first kiss. This kiss represented to me the moment of joy, “The pleasure that abideth for a moment”, as Wilde would put it, of a desperate existence. This fleeting moment of pleasure is what artists forever seek to solidify, and what Mallarmé wishes to evoke from his reader.
The present post will address dualism in Mallarme’s poems, “L’Azur” and “Les fenêtres,” by analyzing the manner in which the poet uses the concept of fleeing to both distinguish and conflate these two worlds. In both poems, the verb “fuir” is repeated in various different conjugations and manifestations. This causes the reader to feel that the subject of the poem is trapped: he wants to leave where he is but finds that he cannot or that he does not know where to go. This, effectively, creates a dualism in both poems concerning where the subject of the poem finds himself and where he wishes to be (not there.) This distinction is then emphasized by Mallarmé with in more traditional dualistic terms, for example by reference to the soul and to different Ideal concepts, such as Beauty. In both poems, however, the distinction between these two worlds is blurred at the end and the reader is given to understand that the physical can be consumed by the Ideal and eternal. Let us now analyze some examples of this description, first in “L’Azur” and then in “Les fenêtres.”
In “L’Azur,” Mallarmé introduces the concept of fleeing in the second stanza, one may say, ambiguously. He begins the stanza with the word “fuyant” or “fleeing” but it is unclear to whom this word refers. It could refer either to the irony which was the subject of the first stanza or to the poet which is the subject of the second stanza. The reader is left feeling uncertain about what or who is fleeing. In the next line, however, we get a better idea of who is fleeing– the poet. The poet describes the irony as scrutinizing his empty soul and, one could say, it is for this reason that he wants to flee. In this way, we get introduced to the subject’s soul which is one of the traditional markers of dualism. It should be noted that this dualism is emphasized by the fact that it is irony, an abstract concept, that is scrutinizing in a personified way the soul of the subject. In other words, an Ideal (in the Platonic sense) concept is acting upon the soul, another Ideal concept. This, however, is causing the subject, a physical entity, to want to flee a word that usually refers to the physical movement from one place to another. In this way, we see Mallarmé blurring the lines between the Ideal and the Physical or Real through the use of the concept of fleeing.
Throughout the rest of the poem, Mallarmé continues to develop this idea of dualism. The reader is given the idea that the cryptic Azur belongs in the Ideal world as it is described as “eternal” and, in the last two stanzas, as basically all-encompassing and all-powerful. Furthermore, l’Azur affects the soul of the poet as opposed to his body. The poet also realizes that trying to physically flee the all-powerful Azur is futile and, therfore, he gives in to the fact that he will be haunted by it. The repetition of “L’Azur” at the end, furthermore, gives the impression that the poet is not only being haunted by it, he is being consumed by l’Azur. This is, therefore, another instance of Mallarmé blurring the lines between the physical and ideal world as the poet, a physical being, is being consumed by L’Azur, an Ideal concept.
A very similar blurring of the two worlds is also seen in “Les fenêtres” where the concept of fleeing is, once again, prominent. In this poem, Mallarmé also makes a contrast between the idealized and physical worlds describing the setting in physical terms, as looking through a window, and describing the scene outside in great detail. This is contrasted by references made to the soul, the eternal and the infinite, as well as to other Ideal concepts such as Beauty and Bêtise (foolishness.) The reader is once again confronted with “l’azur” although this time it is in lowercase which implies that it is not the same all-powerful Ideal concept that one is introduced to in “L’Azur.” Mallarmé once again mentions fleeing which further emphasizes the dualism between the physical and Ideal worlds. Most importantly, at the end of the poem, he mentions fleeing with “two wings without feathers” and running the risk of falling into eternity. Much like “L’Azur,” “Les fênetres” ends with the hint of falling into eternity and being consumed by it. Once again, it would be a physical being that can fall into an eternal, Ideal realm.
In conclusion, Mallarmé often alludes to the idea of fleeing in his poems, especially in “L’Azur” and in “Les fenêtres.” The concept of fleeing usually has the effect of blurring the lines between the Ideal and physical worlds, a dualism which is also evident in much of his poetry. The use of “fleeing” also gives the reader the sense that the subject of the poem is trapped in the physical world yet could be consumed by the Ideal world.
– by MJL
Stéphane Mallarmé’s “The Windows” depicts a quest for “the Infinite” (“The Windows” 28), represented in the “deep azure” of the sky encased by the glass of window panes (9). Yet while Mallarmé describes this Infinite in Christian religious terms and separates it from both the physicality of the human body (excluding the sense of vision) and the artificial human construction of clock time, he also suggests that the Infinite constitutes a false temptation for the speaker. Despite its allure as an ostensibly pure place of spiritual knowledge, it in fact is accessed only through sin; the speaker’s search for the Infinite ends not in transcendence, but in his or her own corruption and fall from grace.
The Infinite, as constructed in “The Windows,” is defined by its religious imagery: the speaker perceives it as a “chaste” (28) gateway to a “previous heaven where Beauty flowered great” (30), and the dying man in the hospital views it as a dazzling “horizon of light” (16). The poem’s eponymous windows similarly gain spiritual power, “bles[sing]…in their glass” those who watch the azure (27). Under the influence of the Infinite, the speaker wishes to be “reborn” as an “angel” (31), perhaps evoking rebirth as a believer in Christianity and continued existence in the afterlife, while the dying man dreams of purifying himself and returning to his “virgin skin of long ago” (11). In accordance with this Christian vision, the Infinite seems to promise eternal life and transcendence of the physical body to the twin figures of the speaker and the dying man. The dying man “[s]ees” lavish, “golden” landscapes unfurl through the window (17), forsaking the tactile nature of “holy oils” (13), the gustatory element of “cordials” (14), and a body-wracking “cough” (15) in favor of vision alone; the speaker similarly “peer[s] and see[s]” (29) a “gilded” (28) vision of the Infinite in the azure. In addition to transcending the physical body, providing a space of pure vision, the Infinite escapes the confines of manmade clock time and becomes “eternal” (27), blurring the present with a “long ago” past (11) and transforming daytime’s “sunshine on the stones” into “evening bleed[ing] along the tiles” (15). The implication is that the Infinite offers the same sort of eternal life as religion itself.
Although this description appears to construct the Infinite as a religious paradise, Mallarmé instead suggests that accessing this space is far from a divine endeavor. Both the dying man and the speaker are corrupted by their efforts to access the Infinite: the dying man quite literally turns his back on Christianity and ignores what he considers a “great bored crucifix” (4), and his desire for the azure of the Infinite is “fevered” and “greedy” (9). Indeed, his devotional act of kissing the glass – an act that he hopes will restore the “virgin skin” of his youth – “befouls” the window (11), sullying the purity of this spiritual space with “bitter[ness]” (12).
The overwhelming presence of the self also upends any notions of spiritual transcendence. In “Crisis in Poetry,” Mallarmé remarks that “[t]he pure work implies the disappearance of the poet as speaker, yielding his initiative to words” – privileging intangible, nonphysical entities over the self (“Crisis in Poetry” 75). The speaker of “The Windows” uses the Infinite not to transcend his or her own self, but to be more grounded in it. At what should be the peak moment of spirituality, when the speaker has been “blest” (“The Windows” 27) and “gilded by the Infinite” (28), he or she instead repeats the word “I”: “I peer and see myself an angel! I die, I long” (29). Later, he or she refers to the self as a sort of deity and replacement for God, using the invocation “oh Self” to beg for assistance from a higher power (37). Although the speaker blames the witchcraft-like “spell” of the “World Below” for his or her inability to fully transcend the physical senses (33), the reference to the “Self who knows gall stings” (37) connects the speaker to the dying man with his “bitter” kiss (12) suggest that the speaker’s self, like the dying man’s, is the chief source of corruption. Much like Lucifer in Paradise Lost, the speaker is doomed to “fall through eternal skies,” exiled from this religious paradise of the Infinite that he or she attempts to reach only through corruption (40).
Word Count: 725
Mallarmé’s two poems set in the symbolist style, L’Azur and La Fenêtre, explore the artist’s relationship between the mundane and the ideal.
La Fenêtre begins describing an old man in a hospital, near death. The opening stanza ties in the oppressive smell of the hospital and outside environment with religious imagery, as the “fetid incense arising like the banal whiteness of veils To the great bored crucifix on the empty wall, The crafty dying man his back sets straight.” The fumes that move toward the crucifix may indicate the inability of religion to create an ideal for the dead man. Instead the crucifix is “bored on the empty wall,” neglected and barren.
The window, which the old man hungers for, represents the threshold between the ideal, or “beautiful” and the mundane reality of his death. He longs to “see the sunshine on the stones,” perhaps indicating his search for truth in the sun. His mouth is even described as being as avid as a younger person, connecting to the obsession with youth and dying which consumes many authors of decadent literature.
The ideal on the other side of the window is filled with images of beauty, “golden galleys, beautiful as swans, On a ruddy, perfumed river, cradling to sleep The tawny, rich light of their echelons.” These images are also ‘in vast nonchalance charged with memories,” which connects the ideal with a kind of nostalgia, the beauty that ignores present circumstances and instead remembers a sweeter past.
The poet then attempts to reach outside of the window and attain the ideal himself by being reborn through art or mysticism. The poet gambles that he may reach this state by breaking the glass of the window and flinging himself into the unknown void of the ideal. However, the ability of the poet to reach this state is questioned by Mallarmé, as he says that there is a “risk of falling through eternal skies.” This fall both indicates the tenuous position of the artist, but may also question the existence of the ideal at all. There is a possibility in Mallarmé’s poem that all that is on the other side of the mundane is the void. A similar question is brought up in Flaubert’s Temptation of Saint Anthony as the gods are one by one cast unto the void.
The second of Mallarmé’s two poems, “L’Azur,” shows a much more pessimistic take on the relationship between the artist and the ideal. In this poem, written several months after the first, Mallarmé is filled with the fog that besets an artist struggling to reach beyond mundane reality. In this poem, the “eternal Sky” that the poet formerly wanted to leap into, now “depresses” and the “the powerless poet who damns his superiority Across a sterile wilderness of aching Despair. This passage encapsulates the struggle of the artist to combat ennui and the terrible realization of his lack of power. Here the poet asks, “Where can I flee?” The ideal no longer is just through the window. Now the poet is beset by the fog and “ashen haze” which clouds his vision, as he says “Unceasing let the dismal chimney-flues Exude their smoke, and let the soot’s nomadic prison Extinguish in the horror of its blackened queues The sun now fading yellow away on the horizon!” The fading yellow sun contrasts to the direct ray of light which is prominent in “La Fenêtre.” Now the artist “no longer has the art of decking tearful plaints, To yawn lugubrious toward a humble death…” The blue color of the azure sky now takes over. It “penetrates Like an unerring blade your native agony.” Now the poet asks “Where flee in my revolt so useless and depraved?” and the horror now takes the shape of “The Sky! the Sky! the Sky! the Sky!”
At the end of L’Azur, the artist has given up hope for his ability to fly into the ideal. The poet is now left in the empty void, as all that is on the metaphoric other side of the window is the mundane fumes of the everyday. These two poems explore the power of the artist, and show a progression in Mallarmé’s poetry as he questioned the role of the poet.
Word Count: 707
In his discussion a “Crisis in Poetry,” Mallarme discusses how poetry is a way to express the intangible– the emotional truth, to say, behind spoken language. He calls languages imperfect, in that “the diversity of tongues on earth keeps everyone from uttering the word which would be otherwise in one unique rendering, truth itself in substance” (75, Mallarme.) This eternal imperfection of expression between human beings (through verbal conversation) struck me as the driving force of the poet. The dissatisfaction with common expression is so deeply rooted in us, as spoken word is momentary, sometimes careless, and often hastily crafted. The poet, according to Mallarme, seeks to crystallize the pure emotions that day-to-day speech cannot quite catch.
One never can say what one means to say, or it would lose its “charm,” a word so often used by the charismatic Lord Henry in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. This charm that Lord Henry speaks of: is it the masking of the intangible? Is it the packaging itself of this emotional truth, as unsettling or wonderful as it might be? In a certain way, poetry is the “perfected aesthetic” of modern language– the superficial beauty, if translated to physical terms, which can evoke that slippery, inexplicable emotion that the poet, the artist, is constantly attempting to capture. The reader looks to poetry as a sort of mirror, and instead finds a depth that must be scavenged for the “pure notion” that Mallarme prizes.
“You noticed, one does not write luminously on a dark field; the alphabet of stars alone, is thus indicated, sketched out or interrupted; man pursues black on white” (76).
The blackness of this ink on paper can be interpreted as the deep well that is created with each poetic phrase, the realm in which the emotional truth exists. The reason why one does not write “luminously,” or completely revealingly, is because the poet shades and masks his truth in his art, and the reader seeks out this dark, mysterious space with the desperate hope of finding the intangible.
By reading Mallarme’s discussion, I was brought back to Lord Henry’s influential speeches to Dorian Gray in The Picture of Dorian Gray.
“But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a particular poem that you can come across again, a cadence from a piece of music you had ceased to play– I tell you Dorian, it is on things like these that our lives depend.” (155, Wilde).
Here, Lord Henry refers to several sensations that are converted to triggers for a memory: the waft of a perfume is considered analogous to the line of a forgotten poem; similarly, both can arouse dormant sensations and thoughts that are often hidden in oneself. Once again, this idea of a elusive, masked truth arises again: There are inevitably thousands of feelings and memories that are so deep seated within the body’s “slowly built-up cells,” (155) that we can easily forget or misplace them. The role of the line of poetry is to not only to inspire sensation, but also to revitalize potentially tucked-away truths. So much of the objective “beauty” or charm of a poem is the packaging, which can be created through form, phrasing, and emphasis. This aesthetic mask ultimately serves to stir the reader in a particular manner, such that he/she can reveal the intangible, unspoken truth to the self.
Mallarmé’s poems, particularly “The Windows” and “The Azure”, dramatize the poet’s continued struggle to access and embody the Eternal and the Ideal in his poetry. In both poems, the sky and the personified Azure symbolize the Eternal and the Ideal. While in “The Windows” the poet is portrayed as relentlessly searching for a means to access the Eternal, in “The Azure”, perhaps as a consequence of realizing the impossibility of his quest for the Ideal, the poet seeks refuge from the “unerring blade” of the Eternal. These conflicting attitudes towards the Ideal, one of obsessive seeking and one of despondent fleeing, can be interpreted as symptoms of the poet’s frustration with not being able to employ words / language in order to express the Ideal and the immaterial realm which symbolist poets such as Mallarmé sought to capture in their poetry. In Crisis in Poetry Mallarmé states that “verse makes up for what language lack, completely superior as it is” (75). Yet, by the end of the poem “The Azure”, in face of the triumphant Azure, the poet has no option but to “flee in… revolt so useless and depraved”, and accept his failure as a poet.
In “The Windows”, the window functions as “art” and as a “mystic state” becoming an interface between the physically experienced and observable “life” of “fetid incense” and “banal… veils” and the mystical unseen and the unknown. The dying man drags himself to the window in order to “see the sunshine on the stones” and to feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He is also “greedy for deep azure”, indicating his yearning to access the azure sky, which is an extended metaphor used to signal the Eternal and the Ideal. As he contemplates on the “vast nonchalance charged with memories” triggered by the view of the azure, he is “filled with disgust for the man… [who is] sprawled in comforts” and who is preoccupied with the material needs of his wife and offspring. At this point, the first-person “I” poet-narrator’s voice becomes interchangeable with that of the dying man in the hospital: “I flee and cling to all the window frames / Whence once can turn his back on life in scorn”. The window definitively becomes an access point to the Eternal and a means through which to escape mundane reality. Yet, despite this discovery, the poem does not end in triumph for the poet. As “The Windows” concludes, the poet realizes that his wings are “unfeathered” and that he is at risk of “falling through eternal skies”, prefiguring the poet’s changed attitude in “The Azure”.
The possibility of escape from reality and the hope for potential access to the Ideal present in “The Windows” are entirely replaced by negativity and pessimism in “The Azure”. The poem is saturated with words connoting negativity (depresses, damns, sterile, aching, Despair, destructive, powerless, empty, scorn, distressing, monotonous, Lethean, maliciously, Boredom, dismal, horror, dead, prison, cruel, tearful, wicked, agony, useless, depraved). At the very outset, the poet is portrayed as “the powerless poet” who, above all, now seeks refuge from the “Azure’s tranquil irony” and “the cruel Ideal”. For all his yearning, the poet has failed to access the Ideal, and the Azure has triumphed with a “wicked victory”, which penetrates the poet “Like an unerring blade”. He is haunted by this impasse and concludes the poem with a desperate cry to “The Sky”. Thus, “The Azure” can be interpreted as a poetic acceptance of Mallarmé’s incapability to pierce the veil of language and to create verse that can adequately embody the Ideal. The two poems “The Windows” and “The Azure” can therefore be read as expressions of the poet’s conflicting attitudes vis-à-vis the Ideal realm that he sought so hard to embody in his poetry.
Word Count = 631
Blogged by Lana
In “The Azure,” Stéphane Mallarmé uses apostrophe, a device of figurative language whereby the poet addresses an absent person or force that is often an abstract concept, to invert the typical effect that beautiful things have on the viewer. While a typical person would take comfort or happiness in the sight, of, for instance, a clear sky, the subject of “The Azure” feels the opposite. The far-superior aesthetic tastes of Stéphane Mallarmé’s subject causes the sight of beautiful things to depress rather than inspire because they remind him of the world of ideal Platonic forms that he will never reach: “The everlasting Azure’s tranquil irony/ Depresses, like the flowers indolently fair,/ The powerless poet who damns his superiority” (Mallarmé 1-3). Here, the “powerless poet” is doomed by “his superiority” in that his good taste sentences him to a life of longing for something that he can never possess. In the following excerpt, the poet calls on the fogs to obscure his vision of the sky, in an inversion of the typical human-aesthetic desire to see clear skies: “Oh fogs, arise! Pour your monotonous ashes down… To darkly drench the livid swamp of autumn days” (9, 11). The divergence between the desires of the poet and the average man is probably designed to highlight the “superiority” that is articulated in the first stanza. Further on in the poem, Stéphane Mallarmé makes yet another inversion—he addresses (and adds a positive epithet to) a force of nature that mankind typically scorns: “And you… Sweet Boredom, to block up with a never weary hand/ The great blue holes the birds maliciously have made…” (13, 15-16). In conjunction with personification of the birds (assigning a malicious intent to nature), an atypical apostrophes functions here to set the poet apart from the reader. Maybe it will make the reader question his happiness the next time he or she looks up and is comforted or made happy by the sight of a beautifully clear, blue sky. Maybe the reader will be reminded that the beauty signifies a world of ideal Platonic forms of which he or she will never be a part. Towards the end of the poem, the poet sort of gives up on the idea of ignoring or forgetting about the beauty that is all around him. The blue sky “triumphs” and seems to gloat in its possession of an impossible, unobtainable beauty: “But vainly! The Azure triumphs and I hear it sing/ In bells, Dear Soul, it turns into a voice the more/ To fright us by its wicked victory…” (27-29). The use of apostrophe recalls the dichotomy between material and immaterial realms. That is the dichotomy that brings pain to the poet. Apostrophe is a call from across that chasm, from the poet in the material world to the siren call of the immaterial world as it is represented in a beautiful sight like the sky. One can only wonder why “the powerless poet” keeps writing about what is distressing him so much.