Le Larron (the Thief) belongs to the insurmountable Alcools, a collection spanning fourteen years of some of Gustave Apollinaire’s sharpest Cubism. Not until my last year’s discovery of Apollinaire did Cubism’s poetic potential even dawn upon me.
Now there might be nothing recognizably Cubic within Larron. To the contrary, it respects a very traditional form as does much of Alcools. It’s something else. And it fascinates.
Le Larron is one of those contextual amalgams - not from every angle conceivable, as Cubism might warrant, but in the sheer assemblage of symbolic arsenal deployed. Not sure if the distinction is clear.
I’d gone through some seven or eight reads, considering the poem a parody of short lyric drama. Though I’d still remain obscure if not for the Gothot-Mersch paper I dug up, an entertaining read in its own right.
What we have is an encounter: the voluptuous pagan antiquity vis-à-vis the rigid Christianisme, the age of wisdom - modernity.
First off, the very structure evokes the Greek drama tradition, written as a dramatic dialogue between entities, much by way of the Chorus. Manifest are the refrains, clever repetitions, strophes and antistrophes otherwise lacking explicit delineation.
The farce places a ‘marauder’ sea drifter, stranded at the shores of some Pagan society of ambiguous origin; accused of stealing fruit - much of it already in the apparent state of decomposition: the farce places this masculine Christian barbarian at the mercy of a theatrical kangaroo court.
For the record, I gather fallen apples here in Poland all the time. Apple harvest is plentiful around these parts. Regretfully, crows, vultures and winged devils anticipate most stock before us quadrupeds have a chance, as the marauder doesn’t fail to assert.
At various points I could have plausibly challenged some jurisdictional boundary. Though I’ve yet to be engaged by authorities; neither religious nor secular.
Across much of every religious doctrine, there’s inevitably some primeval essence to Mediterranean fruit trees (in both syntactical senses of those three words). The Garden of Eden connotation counterpoises well with a proceeding of a quickly developing profane character.
We discover a sinister quality to the court intent on initiating the drifter into their ranks, their cult, their debauch. A woman tries to charm the accused. The whole assembly seems intent on seduction into their perversities. But the accused doesn’t seem interested. Monotheism stands firm.
Meanwhile, the amalgam develops. What cults, ceremonies, idols, signs, superstitions or general pagan practices don’t get evoked in course: ie, the cult of Mithra, Socratism, Pithegarism, Orphism, the Tanagre, Zacinthe, Cyclades civilizations; the river Euphrate, Lydian and Chaldean customs …
It’s really quiet hysterical.
The heavily symbolic poem can probably be interpreted allegorically at some level, in addition to a satire, parody, or even drama read with a straight face.
In its hyperbolic character the poem reminds me of Edgar Poe’s Tale of Jerusalem, which clashes Judaism with Pagan Rome in a similar manner. A similar spirit marks fragments of Don Quijote. Molière naturally, comes to mind: the musical sections of his Comedy-Ballets in particular.
I quiet encourage the interesting exercise of this poem. If you read French anyway.
References
Gothot-Mersch, C. (1967). Apollinaire et le symbolisme: “Le Larron.” Revue d’Histoire Littéraire de La France, 67(3), 590–600. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40523066
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