To your romantic, whose... «The Black Book»
robot1 июля 2015To your romantic, whose mind is clouded over by his face values , the final tragedy of love is death. Not so. I protest immediately against this idea. Life is the one force which has power to suck tragedy from us - and however untimely the end, we may be sure it is not too soon. Life has always finished with us when we forsake it; death is merely the aesthetic convention which the sardonic playwright bows to. The final touch which shapes the piece - too absolute and perfect to have any relation to the play itself. What book is different for the word Finis on its last page? De Gourmont is right when he says that he who weeks for Ophelia has no aesthetic spence. True. What tears one has are stifled in the spectacle of her madness. Life had finished with her, poor wretch, before death dragged her downstream, a sopping lily among lilies. I leave Rimbaud to follow her downstream to the shallows, the white wretch among lilies, with the white lily-face turned up pointless under a thatch of flowing hair. The imagination is shocked numb by this vision of her floating away. Analyze it, and you will see this is still the reflection of her madness.
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