French · Parisian Scenes

Le Jeu

Gambling

24 lines · 20 notes

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1
In faded armchairs, aged courtesans,
DansIndans · prepositionpreposition marking fauteuils
des—un · determiner, pluraldeterminer of fauteuils
fauteuilsarmchairsfauteuil · noun, masculine, pluralobject of Dans
fanésfadedfané · adjective, masculine, pluralmodifies fauteuils
des—un · determiner, pluraldeterminer of courtisanes
courtisanescourtesanscourtisane · noun, feminine, pluralsubject of the sentence (continues into l4)
vieillesagedvieux · adjective, feminine, pluralmodifies courtisanes
Wordcourtisane (f.) «courtisane» is a courtesan — a kept woman or high-class prostitute, more genteel in register than «putain» (which lands in stanza 5). The poem opens on the faded glamour of the gambling den: once-courtesans, now «vieilles» (old), painted and ruined, presiding over the green tables.
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pale, eyebrows painted, eyes coaxing and deadly,
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simpering, and from their meager ears letting
Wordminauder (v.) «minauder» is to mince, simper, or put on coquettish airs; the present participle «minaudant» keeps the action ongoing. The verb «faire ... tomber» ('to make ... fall') begins here and finishes in the next line — the gesture of these old women is a hollow, affected flirtation, mere habit of seduction.
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fall a clinking of stone and of metal;
Wordcliquetis (m.) «cliquetis» is a clinking, jingling, or rattling sound. «faire tomber un cliquetis de pierre et de métal» = 'to let fall a clinking of stone and metal' — the earrings (jewels and gold) swinging from their ears. The sound of jewelry rhymes, ominously, with the rattle of coins and chips on the gaming tables.
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Around the green baize, faces without lips,
Wordle tapis vert «le tapis vert» — the 'green cloth' or baize — is the felt that covers a card or gaming table, and by metonymy the gambling table itself. Setting «verts» before the noun is a poetic inversion. Around these green tables Baudelaire ranges his gallery of the ruined: lipless faces, toothless jaws, fingers clawing at empty pockets.
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colorless lips, jaws without a tooth,
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and fingers convulsed with an infernal fever,
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rummaging the empty pocket or the throbbing breast;
Wordfouiller (v.) «fouiller» is to rummage, search, or dig through. The present participle «fouillant» keeps the gamblers' hands in restless motion: ransacking the «poche vide» (empty pocket) for one more coin, or the «sein palpitant» (heaving breast) where a last stake might be hidden. Empty pocket and racing heart together name the addiction.
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Beneath grimy ceilings a row of pale chandeliers
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and enormous oil-lamps casting their glow
Wordquinquet (m.) «quinquet» is an Argand oil-lamp — named for the pharmacist Quinquet who popularized it — with a bright, smoky flame. In the gambling hells of Baudelaire's day these lamps threw a harsh light. «projetant leurs lueurs» ('casting their gleams') sets the artificial glare over the brows of the ruined poets in the next line.
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over the shadowed brows of illustrious poets
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who come to squander their bloody sweat;
Wordgaspiller (v.) «gaspiller» is to waste, squander, or fritter away. «venir gaspiller» = 'to come [in order] to squander', the bare infinitive following a verb of motion. The «sanglantes sueurs» — 'bloody sweat' — are the agonized labor of these illustrious poets, gambled away in a night. The phrase recalls Christ's sweat of blood, lending the loss a blasphemous gravity.
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Such is the black tableau that in a night-dream
Wordtableau (m.) «tableau» is a painting, picture, or scene — the word that names the whole section, the «Tableaux parisiens» (Parisian Scenes). «Voilà le noir tableau» = 'There you have the black picture': the poet steps back and frames the three preceding stanzas as a single canvas glimpsed in dream, before turning, in the next lines, to find himself inside it.
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I watched unfold beneath my clear-seeing eye.
GrammarPerception verb + reflexive infinitive «vis» is the «passé simple» of «voir» ('I saw'). A verb of perception can take a bare infinitive for the action perceived: «je vis se dérouler le tableau» = 'I saw the scene unroll itself'. The pronominal «se dérouler» ('to unfold, unwind') makes the picture seem to play out on its own before the «oeil clairvoyant» — the clairvoyant, all-seeing eye of the dreaming poet.
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I myself, in a corner of the silent den,
Wordantre (m.) «antre» is a cavern, lair, or den — often with a sinister or beastly connotation (the lair of a monster). «taciturne» means silent, taciturn. The gambling hall becomes «l'antre taciturne», a hushed cave, and the poet places himself «dans un coin» (in a corner) of it — present at his own dream, watching.
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saw myself leaning on my elbows, cold, mute, envying,
GrammarReflexive «se voir» + past participle «je me vis» = 'I saw myself' — the reflexive «me» turns «voir» back on the speaker, who is both dreamer and figure in the dream. «accoudé» (past participle of «s'accouder», 'to lean on one's elbows') describes his pose. The three adjectives «froid, muet, enviant» (cold, mute, envying) freeze him, and «enviant» carries over into the next stanza as its first word.
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envying in these people their stubborn passion,
GrammarDisplaced complement «de ces gens» Normal prose order would be «enviant la passion tenace de ces gens» ('envying the stubborn passion of these people'). Baudelaire fronts the «de ces gens» before its noun «la passion» — a poetic inversion that also suspends the sentence, holding off the object of envy. The repeated «Enviant» (from the line before) hammers the verb that drives the rest of the poem.
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in these old whores their funereal gaiety,
Wordfunèbre (adj.) «funèbre» means funereal, mournful, deathly — belonging to a funeral. Yoked to «gaieté» (gaiety, cheerfulness) it forms an oxymoron: 'funereal gaiety', the deathly merriment of the old prostitutes. The shock of the pairing is the point — even their joy is a thing of the grave, and the poet envies it.
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and all of them briskly trafficking before my face,
Wordtrafiquer (v.); gaillardement (adv.) «trafiquer» is to traffic, deal, or trade (often shadily). The adverb «gaillardement» means jauntily, robustly, briskly — with bold good cheer. «à ma face» = 'right before my face, to my very face'. The gamblers boldly barter away, under the poet's eyes, the only things they have left — named in the closing line of the stanza.
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the one his old honor, the other her beauty!
Grammar«l'un ... l'autre» — 'the one ... the other' «l'un ... l'autre» distributes between two members of the «tous» (all) of the previous line: 'one ... the other'. Each «de» depends on «trafiquant» — they traffic «de son honneur», «de sa beauté». The man stakes his «vieil honneur» (old honor), the woman her «beauté» — what each is selling at the table is, in the end, the self.
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And my heart took fright at envying many a poor wretch
GrammarPronominal «s'effrayer de» + infinitive «s'effrayer» is a pronominal verb, 'to take fright, to be frightened'; «s'effrayer de» + infinitive = 'to be frightened at [doing] something'. «mon coeur s'effraya d'envier» = 'my heart was terrified at envying'. The «passé simple» «s'effraya» marks the sudden recoil: the poet is horrified to catch himself envying even the most wretched of the damned.
Wordmaint (adj.) «maint» is a literary, slightly archaic word for 'many a', used here in the singular: «maint pauvre homme» = 'many a poor man'. It lends an old, almost ballad-like solemnity to the line and gathers the whole crowd of gamblers into one representative figure, racing toward the abyss.
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running with fervor toward the gaping abyss,
Wordbéant (adj.) «béant» means gaping, wide-open (present participle of the old verb «béer», 'to gape', used as an adjective). «l'abîme béant» = 'the gaping abyss' — damnation, the void, the open mouth of hell. The gamblers run «avec ferveur» (with fervor) toward it, their ruin pursued like a passion. The «abîme» prepares the poem's final, despairing choice.
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and who, drunk on his own blood, would in the end prefer
GrammarConditional «préférer A à B» «préférer» constructs with «à»: «préférer A à B» = 'to prefer A to B'. The conditional «préférerait» ('would prefer') projects the wretch's choice, spelled out in the final line: «la douleur à la mort», «l'enfer au néant». «soûl de son sang» — 'drunk on his own blood' — paints him intoxicated by his own ruin, choosing pain over death itself.
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pain over death and hell over nothingness!
Wordle néant «le néant» is nothingness, the void, non-being — the bleak final term of Baudelaire's spleen. The closing antithesis is the poem's verdict: the damned gambler would choose «la douleur» over «la mort», and «l'enfer» over «le néant» — suffering and hell, because at least they are *something*. Even torment is preferable to annihilation: that is the horror the poet envies.

The particulars

The text: Les Fleurs du mal, Charles Baudelaire. Parisian Scenes.
Words: Every word of the text, by letter.
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