Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-1898)

• Posted by mgr on January 19th, 2008 filed in HISTORISCHES
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He had already won them over, and they sat listening to him charmed by his courtesy, his affability, and, of all, by the pure Voltairean French that came off his tongue like silk. It seemed as if they were listening to French for the first time, and their pleasure was heightened by the contrast his spoken word presented to his written; one was so difficult, the other so easy, and his naturalness so insidious that already they had begun to think he did not seek the contrasts that surprised and almost repelled them at first.

A French peasant he seemed to them; a handsome rustic of middle age and medium height, but on looking closer they had to acknowledge that his features were finer than a peasant’s. The nose showed some beautiful modelling, and the pale, kindly eyes lighted up an oval face, framed in a close-cut brown beard. He wore a flowing, almost military, moustache, and Lucy watched him take tobacco out of a rare Oriental pot. While he rolled his cigarette she noticed how carefully clipped his nails were, and it was his nails that decided her that the real man was a dandy. Lewis came to the same conclusion almost at the same time, saying to himself, “he wears rough clothes,” and overlooking the trousers and the hang of the jacket, he added: “He’s just one of those men who would go to a first-class tailor and say: ‘I want you to make me a suit of peasant’s clothes.’”

From: George Moore: Lewis Seymour and Some Women. New York: Brentano’s, 1920.

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