"O Poland, thou wilt remember thy great son!"] [Footnote 6: Apollinaire wrote to his friend André Billy: "Was I not too a master of rhymed verse?" This brief couplet, paraphrased from: Luth! Zut! marked a point of departure toward _Calligrammes._] [Footnote 7: This "absolute" poem, "freed from the restrictions of even language" may be profitably studied for its positive suggestions. The Dadaists, whose godfather Apollinaire was, took up this form with a passionate conviction that terrified the populace after the war. "Is not every art-theory, every school, only the triumph of an individual's taste, the imposition of a stronger mind upon the weaker ones?" Nonsense-poems, were the reductio ad absurdum of all literary artifice. The final word, the ultimate bankruptcy. Apollinaire's intense desire to negate literary precedent and to innovate, led through the stimulus of the Cubist painters to _Calligrammes_, which contains his calligraphic poetry. The typography is arranged most intricately, with regard to its pictural or abstract effect. Apollinaire hoped ultimately to unite poetry and painting, in fact his last critical writings in the Mercure de France are filled with amazing conjectures as to the future of art. The "poèmes conversations" of Calligrammes, as André Billy relates, may well have originated in the following manner: "He, Dupuy, and I are sitting at Crucifixe with three glasses of vermouth. Suddenly Guillaume bursts out laughing--he has completely forgotten to write the preface to Robert Delaunay's catalogue, which he promised to mail that evening. 'Quick waiter, pen and ink. Three of us will get through with this in a jiffy.' Guillaume's pen is off already: 'Of red and green all the yellow dies.' His pen stops. But Dupuy dictates: 'When the arras sing in our natal forests.' The pen starts off again transcribing faithfully. It is my turn: 'There is a poem to be written about the bird with but one wing.' A reminiscence from _Alcools_--the pen writes without a stop. 'A good thing to do if there is any hurry,' I said, 'would be to send your preface over the telephone.' And so the next line became: 'And we shall send this by the telephone.' I no longer remember all the details of this singular collaboration, but I can state that the preface to the catalogue of Robert Delaunay came out entire."] [Footnote 8: This chapter is obviously written in an entirely different period. The Poet Assassinated, composes, if we choose to believe so, Apollinaire's vision of his own life. The book was collated from many fragments, many beginnings, and published in 1916, by "_l'Édition_," for the so-called "_Librairie des Curieux._" In the opening passage of this chapter part of the influences of the Cubist painters, and their inventions are particularly apparent.]