Paris Spleen: Little Poems in Prose (review)

Before I examine this excellent translation, I disclose that I have also translated the collection, which I entitled The Parisian Prowler: Le Spleen de Paris: Petits poèmes en prose (University of Georgia Press 1989; new edition with additional preface on the illustrations 1997). Keith Waldrop's version is the most recent among several available translations into English, beginning with the outdated version of Louise Varèse (New Directions 1947), still the most obtainable in mass market bookstores; see also F. Scarfe (1964; bi-lingual), R. Lloyd (1991), W. Crosby (1991; with the poetry, bilingual), R. McKenzie (2008), and of course Arthur Symonds (1905) and Aleister Crowley (1928). Supplementing these translations, recent book-length critical studies confirm that Baudelaire's prose poems are no longer his neglected masterpiece.

Keith Waldrop is an expert translator from the French and is an award-winning poet in his own right. His translation of Baudelaire, The Flowers of Evil appeared with Wesleyan University Press in 2006. His approach to the poetry is original, namely to translate not in verse form, but as brief prose paragraphs corresponding to each stanza. This policy works well, in my opinion, since it more readily retains the metaphorical system without having to do acrobatics with rhymes or line breaks.

Waldrop calls his companion volume Paris Spleen (Le Spleen de Paris was named by Théodore de Banville and Charles Asselineau, editors of Baudelaire's posthumous Œuvres complètes), with the apt subtitle, "Little Poems in Prose." The translator's introduction is suggestive in terms of Baudelaire's development of this new genre, although it is misleading to suggest that "For neither collection had Baudelaire left very precise instructions (in spite of various lists) and the contents for both were arranged by the editors" (vii). In fact, for their 1868 edition of Les Fleurs du Mal, Banville and Asselineau inserted new poems into the 1861 second edition, which has remained definitive; whereas Baudelaire did in fact leave a handwritten table of titles for fifty prose poems, most of which retained previously published sequences; to this list the editors added as a preface the "Letter of Arsène Houssaye," which in 1862 had introduced a sequence of twenty-six pieces for the periodical La Presse – which Baudelaire had not included on his memorandum. In my view, this putative "preface," while giving generations of scholars heady material for theoretical reflections, has distorted perceptions of the collection as one hermeneutic entity as well as a string of somewhat arbitrary, contiguous pieces.

Waldrop's translation flows well and is essentially accurate in its renderings. Only the slightest differences of opinion or lost opportunities struck me as betraying a leaning toward gallicisms rather than contemporary American diction. For example, why not "Witches Sabbath" instead of "sabbat"? (43); why "I rest attached" instead of "remain attached"? (77); why "in such a low quarter" instead of "house of ill repute, i.e. whorehouse"? (88); why "I gave him forcible signs" instead of "I made a mighty number of signs"? (95). Compare Waldrop's ending of "The Bad Glazier" (no. 9) – "These are nervous pleasantries are not without danger, and sometimes quite costly. But what is an eternity of damnation to one who had found in such an instant infinite satisfaction?" (17) – with Lloyd's more precise rendition: "These nervy pranks are not without peril, and one can often pay dearly for them. But what does eternal damnation matter to one who has found in a second an infinity of pleasures?" (Lloyd 41).

That being said, Waldrop usually does justice to the endings, some ironic, like punch lines, others lyrical. He sensitively conveys the rhythm and pathos of "Widows" (no. 13), one of the collection's central pieces, as it probes the inner life of a bereaved mother with her little boy: "And she will return, on foot, thoughtful, dreaming, alone, always alone; for children are turbulent, egotistical, ungentle and impatient; and cannot even, like a mere animal, dog...