BANVILLE (Théodore de). - Lot 33

BANVILLE (Théodore de). Born in Moulins (Allier). 1823-1891. Poet, playwright and literary critic. Friend of Victor Hugo, Charles Baudelaire and Théophile Gautier. His collection "Odes funambulesques", published by Poulet-Malassis in 1857, shortly before Baudelaire's Fleurs du Mal appeared with the same publisher, brought him acclaim. POEM A. S. "Théodore de Banville" titled "Au Public". 3 folio pages. Beautiful prologue of 80 lines, written in honor of the reopening of the Théâtre de l'Odéon in Paris:...When the intense heat made you flee Paris like a penance, In Trouville, in Deauville where the bitter sea laughs, / Breathing the pure, salty sea air, / The poet forgot his divine madness (...) / And the nimble Parisienne, with her soft poses, / On the blonde cliff strayed her pink stockings. (...). / But after this leisure, it's time / For the Muse to tie her girdle again, / And the Odeon reopens tonight. Oui le gaz se rallume et nous vous revoyons, / Paris, soumes, beaux que dorent les rayons, / Penseurs qui de l'esprit subir les brûlures, / Femmes aux doux yeux clairs, aux belles chevelures, / Car le vieil Odéon vous aime, et vous l'aimez! / Ah! Disdainful of words as of music, / Lover of every ideal or physical intoxication, / Able to savor all as to conceive all, / The true Parisian of Paris loves to see / Noble Poetry in its prime splendor, / The brow girded with laurel, living in the light. / For the goddess dwells in this clear monument, / Always protected by her charming smile, / Proud-sounding singer, whose mother is a goose, / Bohemian with a celestial brow, she's at home here. / But, tell you what her jealous whim wants / And how this winter will you woo her? / It's been said all along: "Liar like a program". / So we won't. Jesters and dramatists, / Comedy alert with a beautiful ingenuous laugh, / We'll welcome all that lives, / Even the tragedy where Romeo sighs, For that word never frightened Shakespeare! (...). Any subject suits us where passion vibrates (...). / This is the home of Molière, of the great / Corneille, of Racine to the soft murmuring flow / Of Hugo, whose seas have shivers of copper, / And of the first comer, if he aspires to follow them! / O Public! Our actors in the enchanted land / Are arriving, all full of good will. / They will be, if they can, charming, sublime, funny, / Unprepared; in any case, they will know their roles well, / And will even endeavor, at any event / To speak without emphasis and naturally, / Our actresses remedy for your melancholy, / If I believe the public rumor, are pretty, / (...). Just think, / That, thanks to your inventive and subtle mind, / You can transform vile lead into beautiful pure gold; / That applause, which lulls and flatters us, / Turns poor fabric into scarlet crimson, / And becomes, without enchantment, a talisman for us! / Accept our glass necklaces and our pebbles / As if they were diamonds from India, / And let your soul be like a Rosalinde / Who complacently reads Orlando's sonnets! / But that's enough talk. Let's get on with it. To the curtain!