ARTHUR RIMBAUD – INSATIABLE DAMNATION

"This is from the LORD; we can say

nothing to you one way or the other.”

Genesis, 24/50, “NIV”

“God moves the player and he, the piece”

H.L.Borhes

Translation: Frank Thomas Smith

 Grand in scope, but short in time, a life path of a favorite of Gods, as crowded with viaducts and serpentines as only life of a cursed man can be; a bloody epopee from youthful oratory through to Hans Kastorp’s whiteness, is being crowned by the death’s insatiable desire – the only vice we are all slaves to. An astonishing truth is that there is a bride with a will to bridle her jealousy, mitigate a challenge and successfully resist all temptations. She is aware of her complete evolving during the revelry; she knows that in no possible way she could be the one to be played. The Fates granted her for her patience and perseverance a thundering suit of a Child which even Satan envied. She did not yet wait for long because of the more than hurtful provocations. The wait was over after 37 years. On November the 10^th 1891, the permanent captive of the Muse betrays his followers by transcending to eternal. That happens to be yet another undeniable proof that all but this black bride becomes someone else’s; only death is personal. Thanks to the richness of life of the grinning black demon shortly upon death legends begin to go around and a mythical epic equal to Homer’s starts to spin out. Nobody even imagined that a carefully nurtured cult of personality stands in visible contradiction with the values of that same person as a poet. Richness of life should primarily have as its task to facilitate the decoding of a rebus which gets all of its primeval might only upon merging of life and work. By no means have I wished the act of those good people who know how to express their gratitude for the Greatest to be negated, but their inexperience forced them do something they’d have never done had they been shown beforehand what adventure they had embarked on. Mysteries ought to be demystified, rather than made even more unattainable as they have done. All good intentions considered one cannot but be forgiving. Rimbaud himself said that writing and life are congruent and unified; that life is written, and poetry lived. Consequently every attempt to separate a homogenous unit as la poesie becomes absurd. The bleak spawn which grabs the respective information, due to focusing on spheres of strictly rational, comes to the conclusion that leaving out the legend would depreciate the work itself. Perhaps that very personality cult is what posthumely was awarded to him by the unknown Forces. The author himself emphasizes:

 “I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing,

  But endless love will mount in my soul;

  And I shall travel far, very far, like a gipsy,

  Through the countryside – as happy as if I were with a woman.”

 (As translated by Oliver Bernard, Collected Poems (1962))

I’m of the opinion that the aforementioned verses substantially contribute to what one could call a solution we’re after, understanding the poet. As if he had anticipated an obstacle he could’ve stumbled upon, for you must agree that is not easy to dethrone an image of Homeric figure of an old man poet and replace it with  the one of a young burning out torch. From the crystal clear verses stems the conclusion that a poet creates unconsciously, and by affixing to it the statement of one of the classics who among other things says he is most horrified by the conscience element in a poem, quite clearly is crystallized a thought ( even if  phantasmagoric, but it won’t be if we adjoin a transcendental dimension to the cognitive process) about a poet as a metaphysical link between the unknown to us Forces and the whiteness of a sheet of paper that needs to be given meaning. At one time somebody wrote down that Gods deliver the first verse, and that is upon us to develop it further in a song; weather successfully or not – that’s entirely up to us.

All of the above said could than be boiled down to a thought that poetry represents an interspace filled with  form of existence within whose ill intentions lies a weapon; the deadly weapon in the form of childhood.

 Upon reading the introduction I’m convinced the main thesis considered – “Artur Rimbaud – Insatiable Damnation” will have become closer to you, thus giving you an array of delights.

Damnation. Anathema. Having uttered those words one cannot but envision something so obscure by its definition and what comes to us as an echo of a Divine foul play. Still, there are ways to counteract this; that is, human ways. Sounds a little illusory, for who is man? Does one have any effect on Divinity? I am agreeable to his right, but nothing is solved by this because of the imposing question of ability. Intriguing as well, is the question of how to possibly mitigate damnation. Let’s begin with the premise that Anathema is not rooted condition. Arguably it’s rather acquired whether by imagination, religious upbringing from early age or yet again by autosuggestion. Consequently being cursed is only a feeling of a Presence which, once its origin is comprehended, is not difficult at all to get rid of. Also, it is not a rare occurrence to misidentify damnation as affliction and unhappiness. True, all three states of mind do exist in spheres of transcendental – metaphysical, which however does not confirm their identicalness.

Besides damnation one other feature characterizes creative people (artists), and which is most often referred to as poet’s doom. Poet’s – most probably because it is most transparent within that kind, but in no instance excludes other expressions of art. Having previously established the presence of metaphysical dimension, some applicable laws can be derived within. The effectiveness of Anathema manifests in several forms. It is most visible in the conflict and intertwining of two main principles and those are vita contemplativa and vita activa which German philosopher Nietzsche talks about in his work “The Dawn”, fragment 41, in which is said:

 “Let us not forget as men vita contemplativa what kind of evil and misfortunes as the result of contemplation consequently have come upon men vita activa – in short, what kind of contra account is vita activa to present us with if we arrogantly show off our good deeds before it. It’d show us, in the first place, so called religious natures who are predominant among the fans of contemplation, and who thus represent their most distinctive type. They have acted at all times towards making life of practical people ever more difficult and wherever possible sickening: to darken the sky, extinguish the sun, to suppress the joy, depreciate hope, to paralyze the working hands – all that they knew how to do, just as for difficult times and feelings they had their consolations, donations, benefaction and blessings. In the second place it can show us artists who are somewhat fewer than the religious natures, but still, however, frequent kind of people vita contemplativa...”

 By this quotation from Thomas Mann’s novella “Tonio Kroger” we learn some more  about manifestation of that mode of Anathema:

 “Do not mention vocation Lizaveta Ivanovna! Literature is not a vocation at all, but a curse - may it be known to you. When does one begin to feel it, that curse? Early, very early. At the age one should rightfully live in harmony with god and the world. One begins to feel stigma, a mysterious antagonism between self and the others, those selfish and righteous, deeper and deeper gapes this abyss of irony, distrust, opposition, knowledge which separates one from people, and there’s no more mutual understanding ever since...”

 The second manifestation would be the feeling of constant presence of Forces and the imposing notion of causality of all events. No one dares to defy the Gods. Who is oneself to do good. Is it not up to Gods to do that. Hindu mythology has an interesting demon by the name of Asara. It is situated in the stomach area and tortures ones the moment they begin to do good deeds and withdraws only after evil replaces the previous principle. Revealing secrets is just as punishable as doing good, and as a result of which Rimbaud lost his leg, and subsequently his life too. To most accurately portray the damnation of one of Gods’ favorites I’ll quote in detail from the “Foreword” to “Deserts of Love” allowing him to posthumously speak of himself.

 Foreword

 These writings originate from a young, very young man, whose life unfolded no matter where, motherless, countryless, careless for any establishment, escaping any pressure of morality, just like a life of quite a few pitiful young men. But he, so annoyed, and so perturbed that he only advanced to his death, as to one terrifying and fatal purity.  Since he did not like women – though full of blood – he nurtured his soul and his heart and his whole strength inside strange and sad delusions. Originating from the dreams that follow – his loves - that would possess him under his sheets or in the streets, of their succession and their climax tender religious considerations disengage. Perhaps some will recall the constant dream of legendary Muslims – brave however and circumcised. But since this bizarre suffering possesses certain unsettling power, one should wish sincerely that this Soul astray among us all with what seems like a death wish, finds in that moment true comfort and be dignified!

      By Emir Sokolović    Translated by M.C. .