The Trip by Charles Baudelaire
"The Trip" is a poem written by Charles Baudelaire, included in the 1861 edition of his notable collection, *Les Fleurs du mal*. Composed in 1859, the poem serves as a reflective conclusion to the collection, weaving autobiographical elements with themes of memory, experience, and the duality of perception. It juxtaposes the innocent imagination of childhood with the sobering realities encountered in adult life, encapsulated in vivid imagery and symbolism. The poem opens with a nostalgic vision of a child's wonderment at the world, yet swiftly transitions into a more profound contemplation of the limitations of physical and emotional journeys.
Baudelaire draws on classical references, such as the figure of Circe, to explore the seductive dangers of experience, particularly in relation to women and the threat of losing one's identity. As the journey unfolds, the dialogue between the naive child and seasoned travelers reveals the underlying monotony and moral complexities of existence. The poem culminates in a poignant invitation to embrace death as a form of liberation, contrasting the darkness of the world with the light within the human heart. Through its rich, layered meanings, "The Trip" invites readers to reflect on their own voyages through life and the bittersweet knowledge gained along the way.
The Trip by Charles Baudelaire
Excerpted from an article in Magill’s Survey of World Literature, Revised Edition
First published: “Le Voyage,” 1861 (collected in The Flowers of Evil, 2006)
Type of work: Poem
The Work
Baudelaire wrote “The Trip” in 1859, and in 1861 he added this poem to the second edition of Les Fleurs du mal; he found in it the ideal poem with which to conclude this work. The overall structure of Flowers of Evil is loosely autobiographical, beginning with the birth of the poet in the initial “Bénédiction” (“Benediction”) and progressing through the emotional; the work also addresses the spiritual experiences of his life. “The Trip” begins again with the poet’s childhood and serves as a final summary of the work before it offers a new, concluding hope.
The initial image is that of the child who can travel only in his imagination: “For the child who loves maps and engravings/ The universe satisfies his vast appetite.” Yet immediately, the voice of the poet’s experience intrudes to declare that this naïve enjoyment surpasses the reality of actual travel: “Oh how big the world is in lamplight/ How small the world is in the eyes of memory.” The contrast of the vast and narrow perceptions of the world coincides with Baudelaire’s dual vision. The poet perceives the vastness, while the fallen man sees the world close in around him.
The first section of the poem narrates a joyful departure: “One morning we leave, our minds enflamed.” While the experience seems quite comfortable, the travelers find their will lulled to sleep: “Rocking our infinite nature on the finite seas.” The physical limits of the ocean are contrasted this time with the unlimited potential of the human soul, lulled into unconsciousness. Baudelaire’s choice of the verb “to rock” recalls his prefatory poem to Flowers of Evil, “Au Lecteur” (“To the Reader”), where the devil rocks the human soul before seducing it down to hell. As if this analogy were not warning enough, the following quatrain introduces the image of Circe, the seductress who sought to lure Ulysses to his doom in Homer’s Odyssey (c. 725 b.c.e.; English translation, 1614). In “The Trip,” however, Circe represents the danger inherent in all women, as men are “drowned in the eyes of a woman/ Tyrannical Circe with her dangerous perfumes.”
A technique basic to Baudelaire’s symbolism involves the progressive refinement of the definition of his central images as the same object or idea is repeated in varied contexts. In this final poem of his collection, much of the vocabulary has already acquired multiple connotations through previous usage. Thus, the woman’s eyes and dangerous perfumes have become negative in the sense of contributing to the poet’s seduction but remain positive in the appeal of their beauty. Such ambiguities caused the confusion that led the poet to lose sight of his ideal.
The travelers recognize the danger inherent in Circe, and “so as not to be changed into beasts, they become drunk/ On space and light and burning skies.” To avoid the woman’s domination, the “being changed to beasts” that threatened Ulysses and his crew, they become drunk. Yet this drunkenness, too, has been predefined in Baudelaire’s lexicon as a source of danger. Already in “Benediction” the child-poet “disinherited becomes drunk on sunlight” as he enters the hazardous world, and the clustering of images of sun and drunkenness has been in several poems linked to dangers. Thus, while “The Trip” recapitulates to some extent the life of the poet, it draws on the poems that have gone before to give very precise definitions to its terms.
The central segment of the poem narrates the voyage, first, in part 2, still in Baudelaire’s voice, and then in parts 3 through in a dialogue between the naïve child and the experienced travelers. In response to the child’s repeated questions, the travelers finally declare that all that they have seen has been “the boring spectacle of immortal sin.” Again, the language carries multiple meanings. While sin, especially oft-repeated, may indeed be boring, “Boredom” was also the name of the monster who, in “To the Reader,” seduced men into losing their souls. Parts 7 and 8 return to the poet’s own voice, providing in these two final sections a symmetry with the two opening sections of the poem. Baudelaire’s conclusion concerns that “bitter knowledge that is gained from travel,” and he compares the long frustration of travel to the story of the Wandering Jew. After relying on his own symbol vocabulary in the earlier parts of the poem, Baudelaire now expresses himself through traditional myth.
His last scene, paralleling the earlier use of Circe, is that of the Lotus Eaters, another of the perils that faced Ulysses. Their song invites the poet once again, “Come to get drunk,” but he recognizes the danger: “By the familiar accent we recognize the specter.” This ghost is that of the seductive woman: “Swim toward your Electra!/ Says the woman whose knees we used to kiss.”
The voyage ends with the poet seemingly alone, though he still speaks in a plural “we” that potentially incorporates all humankind. In the final section, composed of only two quatrains, the poet invites death: “Oh Death, old captain, it is time! raise the anchor!/ This country bores us, oh Death! Let us set sail!” The maritime imagery redefines death. It will be a departure like any other, and as such it is nothing to be feared.
The vocabulary continues to draw on Baudelaire’s previous usage, where sea voyages have been numerous and “boredom” has acquired multiple associations. Similarly, the next lines draw on the contrasts of light and darkness that have characterized Baudelaire’s dual view of the world—“If the sky and the sea are as black as ink,/ Our hearts, you know, are filled with light”—and his call for poison in the last quatrain repeats another recurring motif. This repetition of the familiar seems to reassure the reader that there is nothing new in this latest voyage.
Bibliography
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Bloom, Harold, ed. Charles Baudelaire. New York: Chelsea House, 1987.
Carter, A. E. Charles Baudelaire. Boston: Twayne, 1977.
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