But if he is not bold enough to commit crimes himself, he does not leave a moment’s doubt that he loves them, and much prefers them to virtue, just as he prefers the ‘end of autumns, winters, springs steeped in mud,’ to the fine season of the year (_Brumes et Pluies_). He is ‘hostile to the universe rather than indifferent’ (_Les sept Vieillards_). The sight of pain leaves him cold, and if tears are shed before him they only evoke in his mind the image of a landscape with running waters. _Madrigal triste_: ‘Que m’importe que tu sois sage? Sois belle! et sois triste! Les pleurs Ajoutent un charme au visage, Comme le fleuve au paysage.’ In the struggle between _Abel et Caïn_ he takes the part of the latter without hesitation: ‘Race d’Abel, dors, bois et mange; Dieu te sourit complaisamment. ‘Race de Caïn, dans la fange Rampe et meurs misérablement. ‘Race d’Abel, ton sacrifice Flatte le nez du Séraphin. ‘Race de Caïn, ton supplice Aura-t-il jamais une fin? ‘Race d’Abel, vois tes semailles Et ton bétail venir à bien; ‘Race de Caïn, tes entrailles Hurlent la faim comme un vieux chien. ‘Race d’Abel, chauffe ton ventre A ton foyer patriarchal; ‘Race de Caïn, dans ton antre Tremble de froid, pauvre chacal! ‘Ah! race d’Abel, ta charogne Engraissera le sol fumant! ‘Race de Caïn, ta besogne N’est pas faite suffisamment. ‘Race d’Abel, voici ta honte: Le fer est vaincu par l’épieu! [?] ‘Race de Caïn, au ciel monte Et sur la terre jette Dieu!’ If he prays it is to the devil (_Les Litanies de Satan_): ‘Gloire et louange à toi, Satan, dans les hauteurs Du Ciel, où tu régnas, et dans les profondeurs De l’Enfer, où, vaincu, tu rêves en silence! Fais que mon âme un jour, sous l’Arbre de Science, Près de toi se repose....’ Here there mingles with the aberration that mysticism which is never wanting in the degenerate. Naturally, the love of evil can only take the form of devil-worship, or diabolism, if the subject is a believer, if the supernatural is held to be a real thing. Only he who is rooted with all his feelings in religious faith will, if he suffers from moral aberration, seek bliss in the adoration of Satan, in impassioned blasphemy of God and the Saviour, in the violation of the symbols of faith, or will wish to incite unnatural voluptuousness by mortal sin and infernal damnation, though humouring it in the _messe noire_, in the presence of a really consecrated priest, and in a hideous travesty of all the forms of the liturgy. Besides the devil, Baudelaire adores only one other power, viz., voluptuousness. He prays thus to it (_La Prière d’un Païen_): ‘Ah! ne ralentis pas tes flammes! Réchauffe mon cœur engourdi, Volupté, torture des âmes!... Volupté, sois toujours ma reine!’