Baudelaire Without Benjamin

Comparative Literature
Sonam Singh
Baudelaire without
Benjamin: Contingency,
History, Modernity
HIS ESSAY SEEKS TO DEMONSTRATE how Charles Baudelaires vision of

modernity eludes Walter Benjamins influential reading of the poet. Because
Baudelaires poetics of contingency offers conceptual resources for exploring and
abiding the disorientations of modernity, its achievements are worth safeguarding
and distinguishing from Benjamins dismissive but almost unchallenged account
of the poets work. By highlighting a critical tradition that has recognized the
depth of Baudelaires aesthetic and intellectual modernity and another that has
posed serious questions about the modernity that Benjamin offers in its stead, I
hope both to demonstrate that the visions of the two thinkers are irreconcilable
and to encourage direct engagements with their actual words.
It is difficult to read Benjamin without wishing to fulfill his liberatory culturalpolitical project or remembering his tragic end. Doing so, however, impedes our
ability to understand his work and strengthens the sad hero of the age of Fascism flavor that makes so much of the Benjamin literature, as T.J. Clark candidly
notes, unbearable (45). Instead, I proceed by offering, first, an account of the
reception of Benjamin as a reader of Baudelaire; second, an account of Benjamins
literary-critical methodology as evidenced in his essays on Baudelaire; and third,
a close comparative reading of Baudelaires lyric The Swan and Benjamins
ninth aphorism in On the Concept of History. I stage an unexpected and revealing correspondence between the two works to show that The Swan offers rather
more stunning illuminations of the modern condition than does Benjamins aphorism. Both the poem and the aphorism feature incapacitated winged creatures,
debris, bad weather, and, most strikingly, a speaker who stands in the present,
considers the past, and ponders human disaster. However, the ethics and aesthetics that emerge in Baudelaires lyric could not be more inhospitable to Benjamins
messianism.
Benjamins Aura
There may be no better index of the reception of Benjamin than the collective
assent granted his ruminations on Baudelaire. Although Henri Peyre excluded
Comparative Literature 64:4
DOI 10.1215/00104124-1891414 2012 by University of Oregon
Published by Duke University Press
COMPARATIVE LITERATURE / 408
an essay by Benjamin from a 1962 volume of essays on Baudelaire on the grounds

that it was not judged to be so enlightening or so relevant as those which have
been retained here (2), by 1967 Richard Klein could claim that Benjamins
essay on Baudelaire is the most penetrating critical study of that author I have
ever read (88). Many familiar academic-cultural trends subtend the chasm
between Peyre and Klein, but no successive academic fashion has much blunted
the thrust of Kleins judgment. Indeed, over the past few decades, the most popular debates surrounding Benjamin have wrangled over proprietorship of his
legacy, not the content of his thought.1 Those who wish to downplay Benjamins
affiliation with the Frankfurt School will say (along with Michael W. Jennings)
that Benjamins first major work on Baudelaire is one of the greatest essays of
literary criticism from the twentieth century (Introduction 2). And those who
wish to bolster the affiliation will say (along with Robert Kaufman) that Benjamins second essay on Baudelaire, revised as a result of dialogue with Theodor
Adorno, is widely regarded as one of the great twentieth-century essays on modern poetry, social analysis, and critical theory (213).
I argue here that whatever claims may be made for Benjamin as a philosopher,
mystic, correspondent, revolutionary, martyr, memoirist, or stylist, his readings of
Baudelaire in both essays are inadequate. Benjamins critical methodology does
not fully apprehend the fantastical rhetoricity of Baudelaires language and disregards the cognitive-aesthetic practice of The Flowers of Evil. In Benjamin we find a
critic who selectively dismembers and sutures (often with little more than biographical gossip or historical anecdote) whatever elements of Baudelaires works
will support his overarching messianic ideology. Although he clearly assumes that
his constellations will form an arresting truth, we can choose to be wary of the
monster that arises: a pathetic Baudelaire who suffered and recognized others
suffering under capitalist markets and industry (or so Benjamin would ask us to
construe the raw information impressed in the poets lyrics), but was too overwhelmed to analyze or ameliorate his historical situation (or so Benjamin would
ask us to construe the poets critical writings). Benjamins Baudelaire is an historical cipher, an unwitting precipitate of his historical context. To say that all it takes
to reveal this is a careful reading of both authors is, however, to point to a not
incidental hurdle, given the nature of much of the critical literature on Benjamin.
Take, as exemplary of this literature, Jenningss Dialectical Images: Walter Benjamins Theory of Literary Criticism, which provides a lucid account of Benjamins
assumptions and operations as a reader. Jenningss clarity about the persistence of
a dialectic of nihilism and mystical redemption in all stages of Benjamins intellectual career offers a well-considered warning to materialists and nonfoundationalists alike who would turn to Benjamin for inspiration. Jennings even hopes
that this study will give some readers pause as they raid ... Benjamins works
1
Jeffrey Grossman sketches some key scenes in Benjamins Anglophone academic reception. He
notes how willfully critics select certain texts, emphasize certain concepts ... and certain definitions of those concepts, for which they can generally find justification in some moment(s) of his
writing (426). Udi E. Greenberg offers a critique of Benjamins reception in intellectual culture
more broadly. At his most provocative, Greenberg suggests that Saul Friedlnders critique of the
kitsch-ification of Hitler offers a model for understanding how the political signier Benjamin
acquired its unique appeal, and its status of cultural icon (67). These essays could serve as cornerstones for a full account of Benjamins reception.
baudelaire without benjamin / 409
for sentences and concepts (212). Still, Jennings calls Benjamins first essay on
Baudelaire one of our most authoritative social readings of modern lyric
poetry, an effort in which Baudelaire is seen for the first time as the quintessential modern alienated, spatially displaced, saturnine (21). Likewise, while
he acknowledges some of the essays weaker juxtapositions, Jennings nevertheless argues that it is constructed according to a rigorous structural principle (32,
26). I dispute this assessment below; here, I wish simply to note the marginalization of Baudelaires literary texts throughout Dialectical Images. Jennings quotes
only one line from Baudelaires lyrics in the book, and that line is quoted and
translated incorrectly.2
This lack of corroboration takes it for granted that, in all important respects,
Benjamin got Baudelaire right. I will turn to The Swan in the third part of my
essay to suggest the many ways that Baudelaires vision would challenge Benjamins, but for now I want to emphasize how commonly appreciations of Benjamins
literary criticism disregard the literature being criticized. Baudelaire, at least, is a
significant cultural presence in the Anglophone literary world, frequently translated and always in print, often in dual-language editions. However, the seventeenth-century German playwrights who are the chief subject of Benjamins earlier Origin of the German Mourning Play are not so readily available. Of the major
baroque tragedies, a determined search reveals only abridged translations of
Andreas Gryphiuss Leo Armenius (1646, published 1650) and Daniel Casper von
Lohensteins Sophonisbe (1669, published 1680) in the Continuum Publishing
Companys The German Library series. Additionally, Gryphiuss short comedy Die
geliebte Dornrose (1660), itself half of a larger dramatic unit, was translated as The
Beloved Hedgerose in a 1928 issue of the journal Poet Lore. I have located no English
translations of plays by Martin Opitz or Johann Christian Hallmann. This dearth
of translations is evident in the troubling but common incidence of literary scholars extolling and expanding upon Benjamins literary-critical insights in Origin
without adducing any apparent independent familiarity with or concern for the
actual plays. Jennings neither quotes nor cites any of them. In a similar fashion,
Samuel Webers two remarkable essays on the mourning play book contravene the
ethos of deconstruction by confidently forwarding Benjamins insights without a
single textual reference to a German mourning play, thus implicitly placing Benjamins philosophical commentary on a higher epistemological plane than the
literary texts that occasion it.3 Jennings and Weber are hardly alone in this deferential attitude towards Benjamins readings. In an analysis of the frequency of
2
Baudelaire did not write Tout autour de moi devient allgorie (Everything around me
becomes allegory) (174). The apostrophizer of The Swan actually exclaims: tout pour moi devient allgorie (everything for me becomes allegory). The point here is not that Jennings does not
know his Baudelaire; it is that he does not seem to worry about what the poet might say in response
to the critic.
3
In perhaps the most famous attempted rapprochement between Benjamin and deconstruction,
Paul de Man (after announcing that in the profession you are nobody unless you have said something about [The Task of the Translator]) insists than any messianic themes readers encounter in
that text (and that he admits he himself constantly re-encounters) must be explained away by a very
difficult attentive reading (it takes really a long practice) predicated upon a belief in Benjamins
extraordinarily refined and deliberate strategy, a strategy of echoing but then somehow displacing these themes (Conclusions 73, 103). A deconstructive regard for, and deference to, the deliberateness of a writers intended strategy is incongruous, to say the least.
author citations in Critical Inquiry from 1974 to 2004, Anne H. Stevens and Jay
Williams reveal that Benjamin was the fourth most cited author (trailing only Derrida, Freud, and Foucault) and note that, among major authors cited in that journal, it is our guess that perhaps only Benjamins works are cited nonargumentatively (223). Indeed, considering the often productive and always lively theoretical
debates that swirl around the genealogies, texts, and legacies of Derrida, Freud,
and Foucault, the tendentiousness with which Benjamin has been engaged is
remarkable.
Even though cogent critiques of Benjamin are available, often from European
scholars, these have not been systematically elaborated upon. Indeed, literary
critics who do not concern themselves with exploring the consonance between
Benjamins criticism and the literary objects of that criticism regularly denounce
anyone who addresses problematic aspects of Benjamins approach. An extraordinary example is Franoise Meltzers excoriation of Hannah Arendt. I take
Arendts characteristically dispassionate, sincere, and precise summary of Benjamins imperfect biographical and intellectual struggle with and against humanly
induced dark times as an unexhausted model for genuine critique. For example,
Arendts observation that the only world view that ever had a decisive influence
on Benjamin was Goethes conviction of the factual existence of an Urphnomen provides great purchase on Benjamins construal of Baudelaire as a minor
tragic hero in an era without access to such transcendence (12).4 Meltzer, for her
part, denounces Arendt for suggesting that Benjamin was (in Meltzers breathless paraphrase) politically nave and at times unreliable and eccentric and
inconsistent (if brilliant) (161, 151). In her view, Benjamin simply cannot be subjected to the kind of skepticism to which she subjects Arendt: she insults Arendts
critique as bizarre, irritat[ed], shrill, and misogynist, but never meets the
basic obligation of offering evidence that Arendt is wrong (142, 143, 144, 151).
Benjamins profundity is for Meltzer axiomatic; he offers not a text to be read,
but a life-work to be decoded.
Meltzer is also critical of Fredric Jamesons thoughtfully ambivalent take on
Benjamin, citing Jennings for support (151). Such critiques of Jameson are usually
predicated upon an entrenched polemic against Adornos objections to Benjamins cultural analyses. Indeed, defenders of Benjamin are rarely more exercised
than when evaluating Benjamins relations with Adorno and the other members
of the Institute for Social Research in Frankfurt. The Institutes editorial hand is
typically taken as a desecration of Benjamins purer vision, and the epistolary
intellectual exchange between Adorno and Benjamin is regularly reduced to the
level of a good soap opera or a bad tragic drama. Jennings is, again, exemplary.
Rather than engaging with the substance or possible validity of Adornos critique
of Benjamin, Jennings instead casts Adorno as Eve Harrington to Benjamins
Margo Channing: By the late 1930s, however, Adornos own intellectual accomplishments led to a change in tone and a perhaps necessary denial of Benjamins
4
Arendts insight helps explain why Benjamins translation Der Schwan (part of his famous
1923 task of translating Baudelaires Parisian Scenes) incorrectly renders Baudelaires formal
opening invocation (Andromaque, je pense vous!) as the intimate Ich denke dein, Andromache! (Gesammelte Schriften 4.1: 17, my emphases). Benjamin is likely paying homage to Goethes
lyric Nhe des Geliebten.
influence on his thought (Dialectical Images 3031). He also sensationalizes the

Institutes routine demand for revisions (essentially a revise and resubmit) as a
process of dizzying reductions to which The Arcades material was subjected and
speaks stirringly (when discussing the pruning of a baggy 90page essay) of more
or less violent excisions of material from the larger corpus of the Baudelaire book
(On the Banks 93).
Barbara Johnson w ithin an otherwise very fine collation of the theories of
reification and alienation perpetuates the myth of Adornos uncomprehending
presumptuousness by offering the drama of the visionary, proto-deconstructive
Benjamin battling the doctrinaire, vulgarly Marxist Adorno. For example, she
reproves Adornos supposed obliviousness in claiming ... [Benjamin] was productive in spite of self-alienation (her emphasis) when the context of that phrase
(even in the translation Johnson cites) makes it clear that Adorno credited Benjamins productivity to his self-alienation (98). Shierry Weber Nicholsens superior
translation of this phrase die Produktivitt des sich selbst Entfremdeten (Briefe
14) a s the productivity of this person estranged from himself (Benjamin
23334) makes plain Johnsons basic error. In the same vein, Johnson infers that
Adornos call for mediation between economic features and social history
implies that the two domains are distinct and that there is a middle ground
between them, when, in fact, Adornos sense of mediation as needing to account
for the total process (his emphasis) clearly implies otherwise (105).5
This recurrent image of Adornos theoretical meanness (in multiple senses) is
bolstered by a misapprehension of basic philological details that reifies Benjamins
scholarly achievements. Johnson speaks approvingly of Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric
Poet in the Era of High Capitalism (1938), a book that was less than half written and
for which 1938 is thus an arbitrary ascription. She decries the rejection of The
Arcades Project, an act that never happened, since in spite of her italics no such
thing as an Arcades Project manuscript ever existed (94, 117). Johnson also does
not mention that Adorno and the Frankfurt Institute funded the Paris Arcades
research project and published the revised Baudelaire essay (along with others by
Benjamin). Because of his characteristically piercing responses to Benjamins idealisms, Adorno is regularly reduced to the role of villain in the Benjamin legend.
George Steiner goes so far as to insinuate darkly (and entirely speculatively) that
the sterile relation with the Horkheimer-Adorno Institute prevented Benjamin
from aligning with the Aby Warburg group, and then goes on to lament that an
invitation to London might have averted his early death (19). Even the extraordinarily shrewd Judith Butler, in an essay critiquing common sense, reproduces
the common knowledge of Adornos injury to Benjamin. Especially unwarranted
is her insinuation that Adorno withholds work and payment and even delays their
correspondence precisely at the moment in which Benjamins livelihood and life
are imperiled (21112). Her defense of what she takes to be Benjamins method
5
The full sentence is: Die materialistische Determination kultureller Charaktere ist mglich
nur vermittelt durch den Gesamtproze (Adorno and Benjamin, Briefwechsel 367; The materialist
determination of cultural traits is only possible if it is mediated through the total social process,
Complete Correspondence 283). Adornos rhetoric clearly demands the same attention to a socio-economic gestalt as is attempted in the third book of Karl Marxs Das Kapital, subtitled Der Gesamtproze
der kapitalistischen Produktion (1894) (The Total Process of Capitalist Production).
becomes entangled with her defense of the evanescence, if not the ineffability, of
Benjamins life (214). Like the vast majority of those who censure Adorno, Butler
proceeds here on the basis of little more than decontextualized readings of a
small, popular selection of his correspondence with Benjamin. In fact, Butlers
approbation of Benjamins method as one in which the concept appears to
become articulated only through its disarticulation as a figure is based not on a
reading of his criticism but on his own self-appraisal in these letters (21314).
Such uncritical and imprecise deployments of Benjamin have become routine in contemporary literary-critical discourse. Elissa Marders Flat Death:
Snapshots of History will serve as a final example. At one point, addressing Benjamins mistaken reference to the titular character of To a Woman Passerby as
a widow, Marder concedes that there is nothing in the poem to indicate that
the mourning woman is a widow (75). Although this imposition should be troubling, Marder insists nonetheless that Benjamins fabrication leads us to see
how the poem presents a vision of modernity that is permeated by the decay of
history (76). This is not in any way a reading of the Baudelaire sonnet, but
merely a recapitulation of Benjamins theory of history and his longstanding
account of modernity. That is, Benjamins explicit misreading is rationalized
because it validates Benjamins theory, with all of this based upon the faith that
Benjamin got Baudelaire right. The entire Baudelaire section of Marders book
is vexed by this kind of circularity. For example, in disagreeing with Hans Robert
Jausss objection that, when discussing Baudelaires theory of modern art, Benjamin ... turns the functional relationship of modernity and antiquity back into an
opposition of content (Reflections 179; see, also, Tradition 385), Marder
declines entering into the specifics of Jausss rigorous exposition, in order to
stress the fact that Benjamins argument is anything but self-evident (71). That is,
Jausss critique of Benjamins theory must be wrong because it fails to validate the
complexity of Benjamins theory. History especially the historicity of Baudelaires literary text does not perturb the closed circuitry of Marders criticism
machine.
As a result, we now inhabit a situation in which cultural critics regularly take
Benjamin to be beyond critical reproach. A return to Benjamins and Baudelaires
actual words is long overdue, as is a serious engagement with sympathetic critiques
of Benjamin. Adorno, Arendt, Jauss, and Jameson represent critics who honor the
resoluteness with which Benjamin refuses his cultures phantasmagorias, but who
do not allow themselves to ignore the chimeras he offers in their place. Adorno is
uncompromising on this point: Between myth and reconciliation, the poles of his
philosophy, the subject evaporates. Before his Medusan glance, man turns into
the stage on which an objective process unfolds. For this reason Benjamins philosophy is no less a source of terror than a promise of happiness (Portrait 235).
In this recognition of Benjamins catastrophism, of his disregard for the human
subject, the human condition, and human cultural objects, Adorno anticipates
the shudder of a reader no less scrupulous than Jacques Derrida. At the far end
of a careful deconstruction of Benjamins notion of divine violence, a terrified
Derrida finds himself forced to condemn Benjamins thought as too messianicomarxist or archeo-eschatological for me, as resembl[ing] too closely ... the very
thing against which one must act and think, do and speak (1045).
Benjamin against Baudelaire

The most adequate groundwork for analyzing Benjamins Baudelaire would
be a systematic reading of The Paris of the Second Empire in Baudelaire
(1938) and its partial revision On Some Motifs in Baudelaire (1939). I offer
here an abridged account of the structure and central claims of these essays
before considering their methodological and hermeneutic operations in greater
detail. The first essay was a submission during Benjamins Paris exile to the editors of the Journal of Social Research, who were themselves exiled in the United
States. As Ive noted, its rejection by Max Horkheimer and Adorno, communicated in a lengthy epistolary critique by the latter, is an oft-rehearsed episode in
the Benjamin legend. Benjamin envisioned this essay as the middle third of
Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era of High Capitalism, eventually to be bookended by sections on Baudelaire as Allegorist and The Commodity as a Subject of Poetry. This book would have been based on over a decades worth of
notes, drafts, and exposs.
The lack of theoretical mediation between singular cultural artifacts and the
overarching social analysis (Adornos chief objection to the first essay) notwithstanding, an editorial rejection on stylistic grounds would have been no less surprising, given that the essays three sections (totaling about 90 pages) unevenly
treat significantly divergent and often abruptly juxtaposed topics, ranging from
the tax on wine to the Parisian periodical market to the genesis of mystery stories
to flnerie in London and Berlin to Hugos natural supernaturalism to Second
Empire mens fashion to illustrator Charles Meryons urban imaginary, among
many others. While no one would deny the suggestiveness of the associations
that Benjamin limns, it is equally hard to deny the idiosyncratic and impressionistic nature of the results. The editors agreed to Benjamins proposal to revise
the central section, and Adorno sent another long letter offering detailed pageby-page commentary.
However, despite the fact that Benjamins thorough revision (On Some Motifs
in Baudelaire) surpasses its predecessor in clarity, continuity, and conceptualization, Baudelaire comes across in an extremely unflattering light in both drafts.
The three parts of The Paris of the Second Empire in Baudelaire strive to repudiate the possibility of locating any theoretical insight in Baudelaires verse, casting them instead as texts passively impressed by their encounter with the historical
forces of industrial capitalism. Even when certain lyrics are praised for capturing
the basic empirical facts of this history, Baudelaires attempts at analysis are dismissed. When Baudelaire dares to imagine, as in the essay The Painter of Modern Life, that the constant unchangeable forms of classical art are adaptable to
modern fashion, morality, and passions or, as in the review essay Salon of 1846,
that modern art can glorify the heroism of criminals and kept women above that
recorded in the Iliad, Benjamin avows that one cannot say that this is a profound
analysis (81, 78, 82). Instead, Benjamin insists that Baudelaires aesthetics do
not cope with modernitys loss of nature and naivet and do not provide the
genuine interpenetration with classical antiquity evinced in certain poems of
the Fleurs du mal, poems whose permanence is grounded only in the idea of
the decrepitude of the big city (82, 83). That is, Baudelaires lyrics are praised for
mimetically capturing, almost despite themselves and certainly despite Baudelaire,
the decrepitude with which Benjamins philosophy had always arraigned the modern world, whereas Baudelaires critical insights are denigrated for attempting to
transmogrify that sense of decrepitude into something productive.
On Some Motifs in Baudelaire retains the basic argument of the first essay
with two substantive alterations. First, it states early and axiomatically what was
only implied late in the first essay: shock-ridden modern experience (now categorized as Erlebnis) is a degraded fall from premodern experience (categorized as
Erfahrung). Second, Benjamin aligns two of Baudelaires key concepts spleen
and ideal w ith these two historical conditions, respectively. In support of his
axiom, Benjamin marshals contemporaneous representations (in Bergson, Proust,
and Freud) of memory and the discontinuous structure of consciousness. But
Benjamin also criticizes all three for failing to recognize that what they consider
universal features of human consciousness are actually cognitive limitations specific to a modern world in which man is increasingly unable to assimilate the
data of the world around him by way of experience (158). A search for something
irretrievably lost for a once-possible experience ... in crisis-proof form
becomes for Benjamin the true secret architecture of The Flowers of Evil and the
subterranean key to modern literature and philosophy (181, 182). Correspondingly, the experience of modernitys fallen temporality, the collapse of experience, is made to be the secret to Baudelaires spleen (184).
A systematic survey of Benjamins intellectual development would reveal his
uninterrupted belief in the inexorability of historical decline, a belief displayed
most prominently in Origin of the German Mourning Play. Baudelaire merely provides a ready nineteenth-century hook on which to extend a storyline that begins
in the seventeenth century and is now grounded in an overly literal conception of
industrializations shocks and an overly paranoid conception of urbanizations
crowds. It is undeniable that modern life is bound to appear barren, and its aesthetic glorification a desperate rationalization, if one sustains a metaphysical fantasy of a once and future socially and linguistically unmediated Erfahrung.6 This is
something Baudelaire already knew. In The Painter of Modern Life, he famously
notes almost as if in anticipation of Benjamin that it is much easier to decide
outright that everything about the garb of an age is absolutely ugly than to devote
oneself to the task of distilling from it the mysterious element of beauty that it may
contain (13).7 But Benjamins unwillingness to engage Baudelaires (or Bergsons
or Prousts or Freuds) counter-theories, or indeed to recognize any imaginative
artifice in The Flowers of Evil, renders the textual specificity of Baudelaires oeuvre
essentially inconsequential to Benjamins theoretical claims.
Almost all of the roughly forty-six poems and three prose poems cited across
the two essays are treated as self-evident support for the historical or theoretical
claim at hand. Benjamin is not in the business of close reading. Only three
6
On this point Jameson cogently notes: Benjamins work seems to me to be marked by a painful
straining toward a psychic wholeness or unity of experience which the historical situation threatens
to shatter at every turn (Marxism 61).
7
Photographer Diane Arbus movingly echoes Baudelaires quintessentially modern outlook when
she proposes to photograph the considerable ceremonies of our present because we tend while living here and now to perceive only what is random and barren and formless about it, while we regret
that the present is not like the past and despair of its ever becoming the future, its innumerable
inscrutable habits lie in wait for their meaning.
poems, The Ragpickers Wine, The Swan, and To a Woman Passerby (the
former two cited only in the first essay) are analyzed in a non-cursory manner. A
few are not quoted at all, a few are not even identified by title, and almost all are
considered as interchangeably sincere confessions directly attributable to the
historical poet. A typical engagement treats a given poem as a realist account of
mid-century Parisian life, according it a sociological and biographical literality
parried from the outset by the histrionic title Baudelaire gave the collection.8 In
this reductively historicist vein, Benjamin proffers, for example, that the lyric
Abel and Cain is actually about the proletariat, that Satan in The Litanies of
Satan is actually Louis Auguste Blanqui, that The Denial of Saint Peter actually mourns the culpably precipitous dream of a dictatorship of the proletariat
in June 1848, and that the acquiescence to a bruised heart in The Love of Lies
actually marks, quite astonishingly, the petty bourgeoisies declining purchasing
power (Paris 22, 23, 101, 59).
Much of this is arguable and appealing, offering surprisingly canny juxtapositions of text and context in a kind of cultural studies avant la lettre. Indeed, Benjamins charisma and endurance are in large part accounted for by his partial consonance with a modern critical practice that likewise gives significant weight to
historical context, traverses freely the demarcations of cultural canons and genealogies, borrows theoretical support idiosyncratically from across the humanities,
interrogates cultural objects more for their fissures than seams, and is animated
by a commitment to worldly justice. By posing the mourning plays and, later, Parisian consumer culture and Baudelaires writings as distinctive social-historical
phenomena, Benjamin helps inaugurate a criticism that exits the barren terrain
of arbitrary aesthetic valuations and instead appreciates the relation between economic, social, intellectual, and aesthetic production. Yet, given the widespread
appreciation for the questions Benjamin poses, it is surprising how incompletely
acknowledged, or even understood, the limitations of his answers are and particularly his inability to see Baudelaires poetry as something more than Les Fleurs
des Hochkapitalismus or a private journal of impressions on society and politics.
Svend Erik Larsen has argued that Benjamins essentially Platonic conception of representation leads him to treat literary texts, despite his keen eye for
surprising parallels or associative links, as mere epiphenomena: for Benjamin
literature comes to assume the role of an illustrative text, or of a cultural-historical source for an analytical thesis on the fragmented character of the city ... .
Thus, we can pass back and forth between the literary structure and the world of
actual experience without noticing any decisive boundary (149, 13637). This
conception of literature has two major implications. First, literatures textual
specificity is erased because the transformation from individual work into a
prototypical social object is grasped without consideration of all the textual
8
This problematic historicism is also evident in Benjamins proclivity for historical hyperbole,
particularly in the Arcades expos: the first establishments to; the first gas lighting; For the
first time in the history of architecture; the first prefabricated iron component; the first appearance of the panoramas; For the last time, the worker appears; for the first time, the lens was
deemed; for the first time a special display: the first of which takes place; the first physiognomist of the domestic interior (Arcades 313). Such hyperbole is particularly vulnerable to historical error and empirical correction. So, for example, to the claim that iron was the first artificial
building material, Adorno deftly rejoins, what about bricks! (Complete Correspondence 109).
details that distinguish the work both as literature, as an individual work, and as
a commodity, and which gives the various literary forms (genres, imagery, motif,
and so forth) a relatively independent historicity (139). Second, works or literary forms that take as their theme anything other than the gestural instant on
which Benjamin focuses, or that dont directly treat the city at all, although this
hardly prevents them from appearing and circulating in the urban culture
these works are marginalized in Benjamins oeuvre (140).
For example, Evening Twilight, the most cited poem in both versions of the
essay (four and three times, respectively), is adduced by Benjamin to prove the
incontrovertible: that Baudelaire was aware of the masses, registered the practice of prostitution, and expressed ambivalence about crowds (Paris 43, 57;
Motifs 172). Yet, he surprisingly neglects the fact that the practice of prostitution is registered as a personification (La Prostitution), a figure whose undertakings are elaborated via a jarring sequence of similes.9 Initially, the nightly commencement of Prostitutions trade is compared to an ant armys egress from its hill
(Comme une fourmilire). The army is then humanly re-figured as Prostitutions efforts are compared to an enemy combatant preparing a surprise attack
(Ainsi que lennemi). Finally, Prostitution is analogized to a worm that steals
Mans food (Comme un ver). An accounting for these three similes doesnt begin
to exhaust the figurative grammar of the seven lines devoted to La Prostitution.
Furthermore, Benjamin also leaves unnoted the fact that Prostitutions nightly
advent is figured as an illumination facilitated, seemingly, by gaslight ( travers les
lueurs); that its journey, far from corresponding to the street map, clears away new
occult paths (elle se fraye un occulte chemin); that all these movements and
transformations, far from effecting urban degradation, transpire at the heart of a
city that is already a mire (au sein de la cit de fange) (uvres compltes 1: 9495).
Instead, Benjamin simply comments that only the mass of inhabitants permits
prostitution to spread over large parts of the city. And only the mass makes it possible for the sexual object to become intoxicated with the hundred stimuli which it
produces (Paris 57). How this relates to Baudelaires lyric is never explained.
Compare this commentary with Jonathan Cullers, which does home in on the
occurrence of allegory. For Benjamin (when considering The Swan, for example) simply noting Baudelaires resort to allegory is prima facie evidence for his
thesis, the specific content being immaterial. Cullers attunement to rhetoric leads
him to consider allegorys possible functions less narrowly. He notes how the ideology of a culture may be most powerfully instantiated in its production of allegorical agents, and thus takes the unlikely personification the movement of
eerie abstraction o
f La Prostitution as a Baudelairean provocation, not merely
a Baudelairean report (Feminism 188). Culler seeks to understand the force of
this provocation, which is also present in other poems in L
es Fleurs du mal, not in
terms of a meta-history or meta-theory, but rather within the historically specific
discursive processes in which these poems, with their unusual thematic nexus of
eroticism, virginity, and barrenness, participate (192). In Evening Twilight,
9
But then, as Hansen makes clear, in Benjamins usage allegory is a trivial catch-all for the
language of fallen man: allegorys failure actively underscores the gulf between matter and transcendence by foregrounding the conflict between artistic form and transcendent or theological
intention (671).
Culler argues, Baudelaire counters both the religion of the virginal mother and
the reglementarian practices devoted to making the prostitute a public health
functionary, but in keeping the two most implausible qualities of the central figures in these discourses the virginity of the mother and the barrenness of the
prostitute he retains a transformative reference to them, redirecting them
toward a different result (193). For my purposes, what is most important about
this reading is that it grants Baudelaire an aesthetic competence that Benjamin
denies the poet at every turn: Culler emphasizes that in Baudelaires transformative use of allegory lies a good part of his modernity (191) and that, unlike
Benjamin, he does not prejudge this modernity pejoratively.
When context does enter the picture for Benjamin, it is generally in the way
that Adorno diagnoses: Benjamin gives conspicuous individual features from
the realm of the superstructure a materialist turn by relating them immediately, and perhaps even causally, to certain corresponding features of the substructure (Complete Correspondence 283). For example, Benjamins discussion of
The Ragpickers Wine proceeds via a brief social history of the mid-century,
since at that time motifs which appear in this poem were being publicly discussed (Paris 17). Benjamin covers the tax on wine, using as sources Karl
Marxs The Class Struggle in France 18481850, a police section head, and another
contemporary observer (1718). He appends eight lines of the poem to this
lesson with the perfunctory transition, Thus in The Ragpickers Wine (my
emphasis). The text of these eight lines is left unexamined. Instead, he provides
further citations regarding the sociology of the ragpicker (who fascinated his
epoch), bolstered in turn by additional contemporary accounts, including one
that gives the budget of a Paris ragpicker and his family for the period between
1849 and 1850, presumably the time when Baudelaires poem was written (1920).
This presumably fails to distinguish the historical stereotype from the literary
figure, making a cultures discursive agon an unwarranted unity and Baudelaires idiosyncratic deployment of discursive orthodoxies a mere symptomology.10 Marx, et al., explain a Baudelaire who exemplifies their observations in
turn. Again, compare this with the analysis of Baudelaire scholars who carefully
chart political and cultural contexts for The Ragpickers Wine, especially given
its multiple drafts, which were composed during the two decades spanning the
rise and fall of the Second Republic (see Pichois in Baudelaires OC 1: 1047).
Building on work by W.T. Bandy and Luc Badesco, Richard D.E. Burton provides
a detailed overview of contexts for Baudelaires revisions.11 In general terms,
10
Jennings is unperturbed: Benjamin resolutely refuses to attribute a single productive social or
political insight to Baudelaire himself; the achievement of Benjamins essays is their ability to
expose Les Fleurs du mal as uniquely, scathingly, terrifyingly symptomatic of Baudelaires era a nd
ours (Introduction 2).
11
Bandy distinguishes Baudelaires ragpicker from the protagonist of a popular 1847 play, The Ragpicker of Paris, noting that despite numerous descriptive similarities, dans le Vin des Chiffonniers, ce
nest pas le dcor qui importe, cest la vision hallucinatoire du vieillard, cest lantithse entre la
misre de son tat et la noblesse de ses rves (583; in The Ragpickers Wine, it is not the setting that
matters, but rather the hallucinations of the old man, the antithesis between the misery of his condition and the nobility of his dreams). Badesco draws attention to the imaginative transformations that
Baudelaires ragpicker undergoes in successive drafts, suggesting that the ralisme de Baudelaire, si
ralisme il y a, a ce souci dlevation, de transcendance et de mystre (83; realism of Baudelaire, if
realism it be, has this concern for elevation, for transcendence and for mystery). See also Avni.
Burton argues that readers alert to the political codes and contexts of midnineteenth-century France will not fail to notice how almost all the changes
Baudelaire made ... make of this definitive version of Le Vin des chiffonniers
one of the richest, most complex and most ambiguous political poems in Baudelaires entire work (Baudelaire and the Second Empire 242). What emerges in Burtons reading is a poem that deploys the convoluted representational history of
the ragpicker (the socialists mascot, the bourgeoiss bogeyman, the Marxists
scapegoat) to offer a cogent commentary on the failure of the Second Republic:
Baudelaires point seems to be that the (cynical) authoritarianism of Bonapart
ism is already contained in nuce in the (idealistic and Utopian) authoritarianism
of republican-socialist attempts to legislate for instant human happiness and to
shape human beings in accordance with some pre-existing ideological blueprint
(257). Building on Burton, Ross Chambers recognizes under the poems historically specific terms a compelling philosophy of history:
The vacillations and torment of those who, in reality, undergo the effects of history t hey are tourments par lge (ge in the sense, not only of old age, but also of the era, the epoch) like a lamp
tormented by the wind are contrasted with the illusory benefits associated with an active making of
(narrative) history. But these very illusions are simultaneously presented as compensatory indulgences or necessary self-deceptions on the part of those whose actual fate it is to be, not the producers
of history, but its ragpickers, those who stagger along, buffeted by events and picking up the dbris
that history throws up like a vomissement but attempting also to recycle the bits and pieces into a
form that might make sense of their experience. (Recycling 18990)
In essence, Chambers highlights Baudelaires penetrating vision of politics and

poetics as necessarily provisional engagements with inexorable contingencies. He
recognizes, like Culler, Baudelaires modernity as something other than a fall.
Benjamin, however, is quite insensible to such secular meaning-making. This
tendency is particularly apparent in his discussion of the sonnet To a Woman
Passerby, which captures the experience of seeing a beautiful woman emerge
and disappear into an urban crowd. Benjamin insists on disabusing the poet
of his erotic delusion, since what makes his body contract in a tremor ... is not
the rapture of a man whose every fiber is suffused with eros but rather the kind
of sexual shock that can beset a lonely man. The poem reveal[s] the stigmata
which life in a metropolis inflicts upon love (Motifs 169). Since Benjamin
insists that sexus in Baudelaire detached itself from eros[,] ... that love which is
sated with the experience of the aura and thus inaccessible in atomized modernity, Baudelaires experience must of necessity be degraded (189). As before,
any possibility of Baudelaires poem having productive insight is slighted. Benjamin nullifies the poems primary apprehension: the inexorable sovereignty of
contingency in human affairs, amplified among other ways in the poem by the
pluperfect subjunctive of you whom I would have loved (toi que jeusse
aime), the tense and mood of unconsummated opportunity (uvres compltes
1: 93). Indeed, the sonnet does not represent the passing erotic spark as a stigmata, but as a bittersweet pleasure of the city, or even as a rebirth (renatre), a
perspective that Benjamins historical vision cannot abide.12
12
These tendencies are also apparent in Benjamins discussion of the erotic lyric Damned
Women (Delphine and Hippolyte). Benjamin takes a complex, and undeniably problematic, meditation on lesbian desire as essentially a journalistic expos of the masculinization of women in
factories (Paris 9394). That so much of Benjamins misprision of Baudelaires texts circulates
around representations of sexuality is surely not incidental. Benjamins historical nostalgia has its
correlate in psychological nostalgia as well.
There remains the common retort that Benjamin was not trying to offer close
literary readings but rather something else: a theory, a philosophy, a tool for the
revolution. For example, after acknowledging in a footnote t hat Benjamin
actually got Baudelaire wrong, Irving Wohlfarth offers a typical version of this
defense: Benjamin does not mention certain obvious ironies in [The Ragpickers Wine] which would surely complicate his reading of it if he were not proposing to use the poem rather than interpret it (149). It would behoove those who
have in turn found such great use in Benjamin to worry over a tool so carelessly
built. In all he says on the poet, Benjamin rightly highlights Baudelaires prodigious aesthetic labor in making sense of a modern world in the absence of any
visible or reassuring metahistory and metaphysics. But for him to characterize
Baudelaires claims for that labor, manifested, among other ways, by a commitment to form and technique, as less a great achievement of the will than an
indication of a lack of conviction, insight, and steadiness is, to say the very least,
to misunderstand Baudelaires accomplishment (Paris 94).13 Here is Burtons
rather more considered and generous assessment:
In attempting to explain these shifts and switches of meaning, it will not greatly avail us to fall back
on the proverbial waywardness of Baudelaires convictions, that alleged love of contradiction for
contradictions sake that has so often functioned as an all-purpose stand-by solution to any intractable problem arising from the poets work. Baudelaires mind proceeds by contradiction but wayward or whimsical it is not, and if it often seems capable of espousing antithetical positions virtually
simultaneously or of oscillating perpetually between affirmation and negation, it is not, as some
would have it, through sheer capricious perversity but as part of a tortuous life-long quest for synthesis and totality. (260)14
This process is vividly illustrated in The Swan.

Baudelaire without Benjamin
The Swan is especially useful for the purposes of this essay, not only because
it is among Baudelaires best-known lyrics, but also because it is central to Benjamins reading of the poet. Lines from The Swan provide the epigraph to the
Baudelaire section of both exposs for the Arcades project on nineteenthcentury Paris. Benjamin also claims that Le Cygne is paramount among
those certain poems of the Fleurs du mal that presented modernism in its
interpenetration with classical antiquity. Whereas the aesthetic reflections in
the theory of art wrongly promise modernitys potential co-equivalence with
13
Indeed, Benjamins assessment is indistinguishable from Henry Jamess: Baudelaire had a
certain groping sense of the moral complexities of life, and if the best that he succeeds in doing is
to drag them down into the very turbid element in which he himself plashes and flounders, and
there present them to us much besmirched and bespattered, this was not a want of goodwill in him,
but rather a dullness and permanent immaturity of vision (280).
14
A nostalgic search for synthesis and totality, as Jameson notes above, defines Benjamins work
as well (see also Marxism 82). One thus wonders how much of Benjamins animus towards Baudelaire is fueled by disidentification. T.J. Clark notes the strong transference: The verdict on Baudelaire as secret agent in the enemy camp ... is a verdict, hard won, on himself (44). In fact, a pastiche of citations from the first Baudelaire essay could be mistaken as autobiography: He usually
presents his views apodictically. Discussion is not his style; what impelled Baudelaire to give a
radical-theological form to his radical rejection of those in power[?]; To his end Baudelaire
remained in a bad position on the literary market; Baudelaire owned few of the material conditions of intellectual labour. From a library to an apartment there was nothing that he did not have
to do without in the course of his life (Paris 12, 24, 34, 72).
antique cultural achievement, The Swan correctly shows that, in fact, decrepitude constitutes the closest connection between modernism and antiquity. This
claim for the poems orientation is grounded entirely in this paraphrase: The
stature of Paris is fragile; it is surrounded by symbols of fragility living creatures (the negress and the swan) and historical figures (Andromache ...). Their
common feature is sadness about what was and lack of hope for what is to come
(Paris 82). However, while sadness undoubtedly figures prominently in the
poem, fragility, decrepitude, and hopelessness do not, even if they are central to
Benjamins theory of history. A comparison of the ninth aphorism in On the
Concept of History and The Swan makes this unmistakable.
Paul Klees watercolor Angelus Novus is the inspiration for Benjamins aphorist,
who describes in detail the expression and bearing of Klees angel, but then interposes the quasi-apodictic claim that the angel of history mu so aussehen (Gesammelte Schriften 1.2: 69798; must look like this). His next claim that the angel
hat das Antlitz der Vergangenheit zugewendet (has his face turned towards the
past) seems intended equally for Benjamins imagined angel and Klees; however, in the watercolor the angel seems to be looking off to the viewers right. For a
reader invested in Benjamins metaphysics, the misreading of the Klee painting
would be inconsequential to the aphorisms truth-content, which is not susceptible
(as is always true of metaphysics) to direct disconfirmation. Because Benjamin
presumably is not interpreting Klee, but using him, I will limit myself to elucidating the logical structure and aporias of Benjamins historical vision in order to
contrast it with Baudelaires. Klees distracted angel, then, is merely an occasion
for Benjamin to send his own imagined angel aloft into a metaphysical space.
Unlike us, with our earthly perspective of what vor uns erscheint (before us
appears), the angel is not limited in what da sieht er (he sees there) of humanity
(Benjamins emphases throughout).
In an anomaly characteristic of metaphysical accounts, the aphorist from the
human community is at this point imbued with the impossible power to focalize
his report from the supra-human angelic perspective. This contradiction persists
until the final sentence. For the magical angel, the spatial elevation and expansion
is accompanied by an access to an extended temporality, but one quasi-apodictically
limited to past time a nother imposition, here on the entirely formless, unmarked
space in which Klees angel floats. Against the fixed present of humans below, who
process historical time sequentially and cumulatively as eine Kette von Begebenheiten (a chain of events), the aphorists angel is accorded a comprehensive view
from Paradise to the present, seeing events as part of eine einzige Katastrophe
(one big catastrophe) whose temporal and spatial source is ein Sturm that
weht vom Paradiese her (a storm that blows from Paradise).
Thus, despite the angels redemptive wish to das Zerschlagene zusammenfgen (reassemble the smashed), the storm from Paradise sich in seinen Flgeln
verfangen hat und so stark ist, da der Engel sie nicht mehr schlieen kann (has
caught in his wings and is so strong that the angel can no longer close them).
Once these metaphysical and metahistorical coordinates are established, the narrative-semantic content follows readily: the loss of Paradise precludes human
endeavor, despite any good intentions, from being anything but a process that
unablssig Trmmer auf Trmmer huft (relentlessly piles rubble atop rubble),
resulting in a Trmmerhaufen that zum Himmel wchst (heap of debris that

grows skywards). This positing of an intractable supernatural force, this angelology, would definitively re-enchant contemporary understandings by pointing out
that was wir den Fortschritt nennen, ist dieser Sturm (what we call progress is this
storm). Unfortunately, this fairly simple story is not without problems, two disjunctions between the semantic content and the deictics of this aphorism being the
most notable.
First, Benjamin draws great power from his dismissal of naive social and historical positivisms that view history or society as allowing a linear progression into
ever-greater freedoms and achievements. Yet he also refuses any alternative visions
of progress. By simply re-nominating progress as this storm, he replaces positivisms naivet with a temporal schema that is no less naively linear in the path it
draws from Paradise through the present to an implied future. Indeed, a heavenly
storm lacking crosswinds and eddies has no correlate in the fluid dynamics of this
world and even suggests a hidden wind machine within Benjamins metaphysical
system. Benjaminians may want to worry over this homology between positivism
and theology, over the great power Benjamin draws from the positivistic anti-positivist biblical cadences in which he phrases his concern.
Second, the sweeping historical argument offered is at odds with the presentism
of the aphorisms temporal markers. Where we might expect that a storm has
always been blowing from Paradise, and that the allegorical angel of historys wings
have always been immobilized in its current, we are instead offered the familiar
scene of a supposedly world-historical dynamic that just so happens to reach a
crisis point in the writers lifetime. Once again, a Benjaminian may have cause to
worry given yet another universal theology whose rhetorical force hinges on the
exceptionalism of a present that within the logic of that theological frame has
no exceptional status.
No adequate perspective on the events of human history could produce an
allegorization as linear and presentist as this. What, exactly, does this angel of
history represent? Conventionally, angels are relays between heaven and earth,
endowed with agency, and at least potentially susceptible to Satanic influence.
Benjamins angel, however, does not move between God and man, Paradise and
Earth, desire and actuality. This is a strange angel, indeed: incapacitated by the
force of a transcendental order of which it might, on the one hand, be a part;
and lacking all agency in the terrestrial order, whose activity, on the other hand, it
might personify. It is neither an angel who personifies human history nor an angel
entrusted with the care of human history. Lacking both transcendental power
and terrestrial agency, it is ordained to impotence.
In The Swan, Baudelaire offers a less simple account of the entanglement of
the present with the past (uvres compltes 1: 8587). The present in this case is
the Paris emerging from the urban renovations supervised by Baron Haussmann
during the Second Empire of Napoleon III. The poems speaker, contemplating
his sense of displacement, is situated at the site of a completed renovation: the
Place du Carrousel between the Louvre and the then-standing Tuileries Palace.
The poem commences in the midst of this rumination with an invocation ( je
pense vous!) of an anguished exile, the Andromache of Virgils Aeneid, the Trojan hero Hectors widow, carried to Greece as a slave of Achilles son Pyrrhus. The
apostrophizer emblematizes her grief by imagining her tears formerly ( jadis)

enlarging a Greek river lyingly renamed after the Trojan Simois (Simos menteur). However, upending the traditional valorization of origins, the apostrophizer proclaims that, in fact, his memory is made fecund and his poetic statement is inspired by this ersatz river of tears (par vos pleurs grandit). In a poem
awash in waterways, the impoverished and sad (Pauvre et triste) Simoiss metonymic inspiration initiates a refiguration of the conventional links between origin, loss, melancholy, and creativity.
What Andromaches sorrow brings to fruition is a succession of earlier visions of
the Carrousel. The poet accentuates the disorientation of finding his habitual
environs even with the foreknowledge of their imminent metamorphosis
made spectral (Je ne vois quen esprit) by nostalgically recalling a site already
characterized by jarring contrasts produced by the renovation in progress.
Unornamented capitals and neoclassical column shafts heaped alongside stone
blocks (tas de chapiteaux bauchs et de fts ... les gros blocs) all awaiting
employment a re juxtaposed with the makeshift premises (ce camp de
baraques) and teeming commerce (brillant aux carreaux, le bric--brac confus) that characterized the network of cramped city blocks that had over time
encroached into the plaza.15 A further effort of imagining animates an earlier
Carrousel that is even more inaccessible: though of the poets lifetime (la
forme dune ville / Change plus vite, hlas! Que le cur dun mortel) it is
both thematically mythe trange et fatal a nd temporally jadis a ligned
with the distant past of Andromache, its inhabitants blurring into quasi-mythic
daemons (le Travail sveille).
In brief, the poet remembers a menagerie that stood there once, and an escaped
swan that dragged its feathers along a dry, rough path near a waterless gutter,
opened its beak, and anxiously bathed its wings in the dust. And then the swan
spoke, demanding to know when rain, thunder, and lightning will return (Eau,
quand donc pleuvras-tu? quand tonneras-tu, foudre?). At this point, a reader
taken with the wrenching account of the swans home-lake-sickness (le cur
plein de son beau lac natal) m
ight extend the chain of displacements from new
Paris to old Paris, from human settlement to a menagerie, from a dry gutter to a
beautiful lake, from city to country, from culture to nature in other words, all
the way back to a Paradise. But the desire for the redemption of a supposed Paradise is decisively ironized by the swans anthropomorphization.16 Even readers
15
Praising new buildings, an 1855 guidebook notes that where these now stand, dark and filthy
streets, and mean-looking houses, defiled by their presence the magnificent buildings around,
while the carriage-way to the Louvre was lined with unseemly booths, where the thrifty citizen
might find any kind of commodity, from the second-hand book to the rusty nail. In the short space
of five years, all this has been swept away, and the noble structures now in progress date but from
the beginning of 1852 (Galignanis 170). Haussmann himself remarks: Depuis ma jeunesse, ltat
dlabr de la Place du Carrousel, devant la Cour des Tuileries, me semblait tre une honte pour la
France, un aveu dimpuissance de son Gouvernement, et je lui gardais rancune (40; Since my
youth, the dilapidated state of the Place du Carrousel, before the Court of the Tuileries, seemed to
me a shame for France, a confession of the impotence of its government, and I resented it).
16
Katherine Elkins notes that, unlike Horaces conventional account in Ode 2.20, Baudelaires
figuration is no longer a prophecy of his own immortality but reveals a strange and fatal mortality (4, 910), thus also helping to foreclose a reading that locates ultimate meaning in the swans
autochthonous yearnings.
deaf to the homophony of the Swans Eau and an apostrophizers O (see

Culler, Apostrophe 64), or unmindful of Baudelaires earlier figuration in The
Albatross of poets as pitifully incapacitated birds, might pause at the moment
before the swans speech when the poems focalization blurs the apostrophizers
consciousness with the content of the birds heart. The swans trudge and plaints,
far from voicing a natural desire, more plausibly disclose a figurative arraignment of lyric poets pseudo-shamanistic histrionics. Just meters from the waters of
the Seine, this metaphysically oriented poet-swan musters little more than self-pity
to alleviate the drought from which it suffers.
Thus, instead of linking Andromache and the swan as twin figures of loss and
grief, as Benjamin would when arguing for their common feature[s], the rhetoric of the poem encourages us to view their aquatic yearnings as disparate aesthetic practices. Andromaches generatively re-signifies and re-assembles a future
out of memories of a lost past and the materials of the present: a lying Troy on
the banks of a lying Simois. The swans futilely engages in an other-worldly
attempt (Vers le ciel ironique et cruellement bleu) to redeem inexorable losses
like man in Ovids cosmogony, fashioned from mud, but commanded always to
glance skyward (Vers le ciel quelquefois, comme lhomme dOvide).17 Furthermore, Andromache and the swan do not simply represent this aesthetic fecundity
and sterility; within the structure of the poem their invocations perform it. Just as
reflection on Andromache initiates the poems conceptual motion, so reflection
on the swan engenders conceptual paralysis, when the poet-swans celestial convulsions (son cou convulsif) bring the first section to an abrupt and inconclusive
end. Section 2 resumes with the poet fixated in his melancholy (rien dans ma
mlancolie / Na boug!), burdened by his memories, and oppressed by a vision
of the swan. Only a recollection of the no-less-grieved Andromaches resilience in
abiding her inexorable losses of status, freedom (Vil btail), homeland, husband, son releases the poet from solipsism into an ethical concern wrung from
a terrestrially oriented (en extase courbe) distress.
Starting with an asymmetrical third Je pense , quickly followed by four elliptical invocations of that syntax, the conceptual ground fertilized by the proxy
Simois takes full flower (see Burton, Baudelaire in 1859 165). Against the abrupt,
inhuman break that sends the angel of history aloft, divorced from the human
cultural object that merely occasioned his invocation, Baudelaires expansion of
conceptual scope is achieved through a multiplication of associations that simultaneously extend farther into the profane world and deeper into the poets psyche.
The wife Andromache (femme dHlnus) generates another phantasmatic
woman (la ngresse), who also yearns for a scene (Les cocotiers absents) from
a beau pays natal (de la superbe Afrique). This gaunt (amaigrie) woman
unfurls imagery of gaunt orphans (maigres orphelins) who are dessicated
(schant) like the dry lane (pav sec) on which the swan plods. The disorienting fog (brouillard) behind which the black woman treads suggests the disorienting forest (fort) in which the poets soul (mon esprit) exiles itself (sexile).
This imagery of exile recalls the swan, ridiculous like an exile (Comme les exils,
17
I thank an anonymous reader for this journal for pointing out a further way in which this line
supports a reading of Baudelaires entirely terrestrial concerns: lurking behind the metaphysical
homme dOvide stands the homophonic homme de vide (empty man).
ridicule), and calls forth the abandonment of shipwrecked sailors (matelots

oublis dans une le). The womans searching (cherchant) evokes a universal
experience of loss (A quiconque a perdu ce qui ne ce retrouve). The resultant
tears (sabreuvent de pleurs) recall not only the flooding tears (pleurs grandit) of Andromache that populate her Simos, but also the rain the swan wishes
for (pleuvras-tu?) in the dust (dans la poudre), which has become Ovidian
mud (dans la boue) for the black woman.
The final stanza makes unmistakable the rewired connection between loss,
memory, melancholy, and ethics. An old memory leads not to mute paralysis but
rather to an eloquent cry of concern for the inhabitants of a radically heterogeneous world from an individual, presumably known woman (la negresse) to a
vague but finite group (quiconque) to, in the final invocation in the fourth Je
pense, a proliferation of the downtrodden (Aux captifs, aux vaincus! ... bien
dautres encor!). Melancholy is not overcome, but its resounding echoes draw the
mind to an ethical concern outside its parish. In this narrative submission to the
historical and geographical vastness and heterogeneity of the world; in the speculative outward, not upward, projection of correspondences into obscure consummations; in the endless displacement of origins; and in an anticlimax of unknowability ( ... ) rather than a confident universal truth (see, also, Chambers,
Writing 169) Baudelaire marks his crucial difference from Benjamin. Here there is
no angelic view, no cogent meta-narrative; the poets vision and knowledge give
out at an earthly distal, temporal, and historical range, and in this sputtering in
the face of an earth ridiculous and sublime the poem acquires its distinctive conceptual power.18
One neednt subscribe to every detail of this reading to agree that The Swan
formulates human afflictions no less comprehensively than Benjamins aphorism. The poem does not, however, offer in response escape routes to the transcendental. Baudelaire stages the formidable challenge of practicing aesthetics
and ethics in a world whose contingencies and diverse extent defeat all attempts
at mastery. He overcomes both the narcotic rigidity of an allegorical vision
(tout pour moi devient allgorie) in which temporal events merely reflect other
worldly meanings and the temptation of casting a loss of metaphysical confidence as Benjaminian decrepitude. Instead, he offers a non-allegorical figure
for signification in Hectors cenotaph (un tombeau vide): a woman-made
construction marking an irrecoverable loss that incites, rather than deters, the
poets creation. The swan in Le Cygne serves to ironize a transcendental
model of le signe. If, as Benjamin says, it is no accident that it is an allegory,
it is not a record of decrepitude, and to the extent that it has the movement of
a cradle rocking back and forth between modernity and antiquity, it is not
bounded by Benjaminian teleologies, finding continuity instead in the intrinsic melancholy of the human culture-making project (Paris 82; Arcades 356;
cf. Nelson 345).
18
Paul de Man notes similar nonfulfillment with similar effect in the closing of Correspondences: Instead of analogy, we have enumeration, and an enumeration which never moves beyond
the confines of a set of particulars . ... For what could be more perverse or corruptive for a metaphor aspiring to transcendental totality than remaining stuck in an enumeration that never goes
anywhere? If number can only be conquered by another number, if identity becomes enumeration,
then there is no conquest at all (Anthropomorphism 250).
Conclusion
Benjamin writes in a note that es hat wenig Wert, die Position eines Baudelaire in das Netz der vorgeschobensten im Befreiungskampf der Menschheit einbeziehen zu wollen (Gesammelte Schriften 1.3:1161; it has little worth to want to
include the position of a Baudelaire in the network of the most advanced in the
liberation struggle of mankind). My aim in this essay has been to expose the
unfounded severity of such a judgment, as well as highlight the costs of automatically endorsing it. Both Adorno and Derrida have alerted us to the danger
of taking Benjamins messianism as something more hospitable to human interests than its eschatological rush to foreclose the realm of human endeavor warrants. Martin Jay echoes their warnings:
Benjamin may have wanted to salvage the redemptive project by secularizing it, but how successful
he really was remains very much in dispute. Benjamins critique of the impoverishment of experience ... has been frequently admired, and his search for a way beyond the dualism of subject and
object has often struck a respondent chord. But the ultimately theological premises of his alternative have rarely been scrutinized with any rigor ... . Frankly dogmatic and based on a doctrinal
belief in the Absolute, which could somehow manifest itself in mundane experience, Benjamins
maximalist definition of genuine experience could only be a utopian counter-factual to virtually
everything that is normally understood by the term. (34142)
I have tried to argue that an analogous caution is warranted in considerations of

his readings of Baudelaire, especially in their denigration of Baudelaires compelling attempts to transcend the easy pathos of historical decline and nostalgia
for a golden age.
The attraction, in our current theoretical imaginary, of Benjamins promise
to reconcile literary culture, socialist politics, and messianic faith is undeniable.
In Wendy Browns words, It is an opening for both the messianic dreams and
the human crafting that are erased by progressive historiography and politics.
Thus does postfoundationalism potentially become at once spiritual and historical: its challenge to historical automatism reactivates the figures banished by
that automatism conscious and unconscious memories, hopes, and longings
(143, 160). Her rhetoric does not, however, disguise the illusoriness of such a
reconciliation f or instance, in the figurative slippages in lauding the grounds
or at least handholds or windows on possibility thus offered. The closer we look at
Benjamins words, the more elusive these possibilities become.
To endorse Benjamins vision of modernity is to refuse an alternative genealogy
of modernity that could well take, once free and clear of Benjamins shadow,
Baudelairean contingency as its watchword and Baudelaires complex staging of
irresolvable psychic and social antagonisms as its praxis. It is to endorse a mode of
thought in which the human and the cultural are slighted as an incidental ground
on which to posit an inevitable transcendental condition. It is to risk rendering
our dark times a celestial affliction that is not susceptible to human comprehension or intervention. Baudelaires alternative puts forward a vision in which great
cultural achievements emerge from wrestling with, instead of wishing away, the
ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent (Painter 13). Just as every old master
has had his own modernity, so, he suggests, our own will only emerge from grappling with our eras contingencies, however disorienting and however demoralizing. In a trenchant passage, seemingly aimed squarely at his most influential twentieth-century reader, Baudelaire warns that the transitory, fugitive element,
whose metamorphoses are so rapid, must on no account be despised or dispensed

with. By neglecting it, you cannot fail to tumble into the abyss of an abstract and
indeterminate beauty, like that of the first woman before the fall of man.
Cornell University
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HIS ESSAY SEEKS TO DEMONSTRATE how Charles Baudelaires vision of

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COMPARATIVE LITERATURE / 408

an essay by Benjamin from a 1962 volume of essays on Baudelaire on the grounds

Published by Duke University Press