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| Henri Fantin-Latour The Corner of the Table 1872 oil on canvas Musée d'Orsay, Paris |
Pictures within the Picture
Of Fantin-Latour's many works, perhaps the three best known are group portraits which at least in some sense hark back to the tradition of Frans Hals: A Studio at Les Batignolles (the modern painter, as embodied by Manet and certain of the future Impressionists), Hommage to Delacroix (a painter of the previous generation), and this one, The Corner of the Table (literary figures). Discrete to the point of timidity, Fantin-Latour, with his subdued palette, is the opposite of a Van Gogh. Facing the viewer in this corner of the hotel dining-room is a black-framed painting; centered within a wide mat, the blue-green image is indecipherable. On the wall at left a partially visible gold frame leans outward. It evidently contains another painting, even though the dark sliver we can see reveals nothing at all. Fantin-Latour thus celebrates – but humbly – the art he practices.
Rimbaud's Gaze
Several objects are arranged on the table surface: at right, a large bouquet in a vase, bowls of fruit, a decanter with some sort of alcohol, a liqueur glass. At left, where Verlaine and Rimbaud are seated, a carafe of wine, a coffee cup and sugar bowl, two isolated pieces of indeterminate fruit.
All those present are writers of the day, with the exception of Camille Pelletan, politician and journalist, seated at far right. They seem to be posing, as if for a photograph. We notice the long pipe of Ernest d'Hervilly, suspended in the air, his other hand occupied with an open book. Émile Blémont, standing, wears a fob-watch with conspicuous chain. These gentlemen find themselves here, at ease, after a good meal, striking their poses for a posterity who, on the whole, has forgotten them.
The only two we still remember are, as mentioned, seated at left: Verlaine, smaller than the rest but with his enormous forehead, and next to him Rimbaud. This is one of the most attractive extant portraits of the latter. He seems to be staring hard at something. The others are looking more or less in our own direction, but not with the same intensity.
Butcher's Hands
His hand is colored a darkish pink. Mallarmé in Quelques médaillons et portraits en pied (A Few Medallions and Full-Length Portraits) wrote that Rimbaud had the hands of a laundry-maid. When we consider the Rimbaud-Verlaine couple today, it is the younger who seems "masculine," whereas his mentor tends to be regarded as a poet of "feminine" sensibility. But at the time of their meeting, and in the eyes of their contemporaries, it was the opposite. Mallarmé compared Rimbaud to a peasant girl because of his reddened hands. He added that they "suggested the worst occupation a boy could have." He meant that Rimbaud had the hands of a butcher's boy. An angel with the hands of a butcher. The delicacy of the face is set against the forcefulness of the hand. Behind the veil of femininity, virility seethes.
Vilains Bonshommes
This is a group of relatively solid citizens, but with a bohemian edge. All were participants in the dinner-meetings of the Vilains Bonshommes at the Parisian Hôtel des Étrangers in the late 1860s and early 1870s. Members shared tastes and views that were mildly (and fashionably) outrageous. Rimbaud, still shy at this early stage, and brought into the circle by Verlaine, made efforts to play the bad boy – as when he wrote Sonnet du trou du cul (Sonnet of the Asshole) – but the performance felt forced. Before long, though, he would create a genuine, large-scale sensation, as he would also break with Verlaine. It was during their travels through Belgium and England that the power-dynamic reversed itself: Rimbaud seizing the initiative and Verlaine increasingly overwhelmed by events. The situation famously culminated in the summer of 1873 when Verlaine wounded Rimbaud with a pistol shot, an incident that ended their connection and resulted in jail time for the older poet.
Melancholy
If all are projecting melancholy, Rimbaud projects it most palpably, as expressed by that hand supporting the weight of a head simmering with unrealized impulses. The overall mood is undoubtedly connected as well to the prevailing political situation – the uncertainties and dissatisfactions following on the defeat of the Commune in 1871.
Today, of course, Rimbaud is the one who attracts general attention, but at the time of the picture he had published nothing and was unknown – except within this one small circle, where his meteoric promise was recognized. Fantin-Latour knew he was painting a gathering of writers few of whom were much read. What he captured was an atmosphere of unobtrusive creation, and he clearly valued that no less than glittering fame. He was as ready to immortalize those who might gain renown as any who already had it. Rather than established fact, he set himself to reveal smoldering potential.
– translated and adapted from Le Musée imaginaire de Michel Butor: 105 œuvres décisives de la peinture occidentale (Paris: Flammarion, 2019)