Rimbaud

Lives

I

O! The enormous avenues of the holy country, the temple terraces! What have we done with the Brahman who explained the Proverbs to me? Of that time, from there, I still see even the old ones! I remember silver and gold hours towards rivers, the countryside hand on my shoulder, and our caresses, standing up on peppery plains — A flight of scarlet pigeons thunders around my thoughts. — Exiled here, I had a scene to play dramatic masterpieces of all literature. I would point out incredible wealth. I observe history of the treasures you discovered. I see the continuation! My wisdom is as scorned as chaos. What is my nothingness compared with stupor that awaits you?

II

I am an inventor far more deserving than all those who preceded me; a musician even, having found something like the key of love. At present, gentleman of an embittered countryside with a sober sky, I try to be roused with the memory of starveling childhood, apprenticeship or arrival in wooden shoes, controversies, five or six widowings, and some weddings where my strong head prevented me from being in tune with my comrades. I don't regret my old part of divine gaiety: the sober air of this embittered countryside feeds quite actively my atrocious scepticism. But as this scepticism cannot henceforth be implemented, and besides, I am devoted to a new trouble, — I wait to become a very naughty madman.

III

In an attic where I was shut in at twelve, I perceived the world, I illustrated the human comedy. In a storeroom, I learned history. At some nocturnal festivity in a Northern city, I met all the senior painters' wives. In an old alley in Paris, I was taught classical sciences. In a magnificent residence surrounded by the entire Orient, I accomplished my immense work and spent my illustrious retreat. I brewed up my blood. My duty is handed over to me. I must not think about this anymore. I am really from beyond the grave, and no commissions.

I

This text figured in the poems collection entitled Illuminations, probably written between April 1874 and March 2, 1875. The poet, then 21, was living in London with another poet, Germain Nouveau, who helped Rimbaud to transcribe his manuscripts.

Although one year later, they didn't see each other, they were on good terms: in his letter of December 12, 1893, Nouveau was proposing to join Rimbaud at Aden. Unfortunately, that letter arrived two years too late...

In February 1875, Rimbaud worked as a private tutor at London. On March 2, Verlaine, freed from jail, visited him and went back with some Rimbaud's manuscripts:

“Verlaine arrived here the other day, with a rosary in hands... Three hours after, we renounced to his god and make bleed the 98 wounds of Our Lord. He remained reasonable for two days and a half and, on my argument, went back to Paris, to finish his study there, in the Island.”
(Rimbaud to Ernest Delahaye, February 1875)

III

The next poem — from the same collection — illustrates with a magnificent clarity that Rimbaud was saying the truth:

Depart
Enough seen. The vision met with all the airs.
Enough had. Rumours of cities, at evening, under the sun, and always.
Enough known. Stops of life. - O! Rumours and Visions!
Departure in new affection and noise!

Moreover, between March and October 1875, in a letter to his sister Isabelle, Rimbaud clarifies:

“... I am in a beautiful valley that will lead me towards Lake Maggiore and old Italy. I slept in the heart of Tessin in a solitary barn where a ruminating osseous cow agreed to yield a little of its straw to me”

Locate Arthur Rimbaud in history.