The Symbolist Movement in LiteratureSymons, Arthur
History
The Symbolist Movement in Literature
Symons, Arthur
French literature -- 19th century -- History and criticism; Symbolism (Literary movement) -- France
And now all that laboriously acquired mastery finds at last its use,
lending itself to the new spirit with a wonderful docility. At last the
idea which is beyond reality has been found, not where Des Esseintes
sought it, and a new meaning comes into what had once been scarcely
more than patient and wrathful observation. The idea is there, visible,
in his cathedral, like the sun which flashes into unity, into meaning,
into intelligible beauty the bewildering lozenges of colour, the
inextricable trails of lead, which go to make up the picture in one
of its painted windows. What, for instance, could be more precise in
its translation of the different aspects under which the cathedral of
Chartres can be seen, merely as colour, than this one sentence: "Seen
as a whole, under a clear sky, its grey silvers, and, if the sun shines
upon it, turns pale yellow and then golden; seen close, its skin is
like that of a nibbled biscuit, with its silicious limestone, eaten
into holes; sometimes, when the sun is setting, it turns crimson, and
rises up like a monstrous and delicate shrine, rose and green; and, at
twilight, turns blue, then seems to evaporate as it fades into violet."
Or, again, in a passage which comes nearer to the conventional idea
of eloquence, how absolute an avoidance of a conventional phrase, a
word used for its merely oratorical value: "High up, in space, like
salamanders, human beings, with burning faces and flaming robes, lived
in a firmament of fire; but these conflagrations were circumscribed,
limited by an incombustible frame of darker glass, which beat back the
clear young joy of the flames; by that kind of melancholy, that more
serious and more aged aspect, which is taken by the duller colours.
The hue and cry of reds, the limpid security of whites, the reiterated
halleluias of yellows, the virginal glory of blues, all the quivering
hearth-glow of painted glass, dies away as it came near this border
coloured with the rust of iron, with the russet of sauce, with the
harsh violet of sandstone, with bottle-green, with the brown of
touchwood, with sooty black, with ashen grey."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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