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HUGO Victor (1802 - 1885) L.A.S. « V.H. », Bruxelles 8 août [1867], à Théo
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HUGO Victor (1802 - 1885) L.A.S. "V.H.", Brussels August 8 [1867], to Théodore de BANVILLE| 2 pages in-8, addressed.
Beautiful letter to the poet who had just published Les Exilés (Lemerre, 1867).
"O mon cher poëte, que de choses belles, et que de choses charmantes! Not a page that doesn't sparkle, not a word that doesn't sing and think. For to sing is to think. The hymn is the Word. I have your book, this living water, so sweet to the heart of the wretched, I drink from it, for I have suffered, and I am thirsty. I'm thirsty.
Glory to you, Poets, irrigui fontes! You are one of the purest and most exquisite springs, and your drops of water are pearls, and your pearls are tears, and your tears are my joy.
Such is the poet. He consoles with his pain. Touch his wound and you're healed. The magnificent poetry of the nineteenth century, daughter of revolutions and eternal liberty, places one of its most beautiful crowns on your bare head. I thank you and kiss you, o gentle poet of poets, o ideal exile and friend of Dantes and Homers.
Dantes and Homer. You have all the faults of the swan, you sing like him, but you don't die"...
Beautiful letter to the poet who had just published Les Exilés (Lemerre, 1867).
"O mon cher poëte, que de choses belles, et que de choses charmantes! Not a page that doesn't sparkle, not a word that doesn't sing and think. For to sing is to think. The hymn is the Word. I have your book, this living water, so sweet to the heart of the wretched, I drink from it, for I have suffered, and I am thirsty. I'm thirsty.
Glory to you, Poets, irrigui fontes! You are one of the purest and most exquisite springs, and your drops of water are pearls, and your pearls are tears, and your tears are my joy.
Such is the poet. He consoles with his pain. Touch his wound and you're healed. The magnificent poetry of the nineteenth century, daughter of revolutions and eternal liberty, places one of its most beautiful crowns on your bare head. I thank you and kiss you, o gentle poet of poets, o ideal exile and friend of Dantes and Homers.
Dantes and Homer. You have all the faults of the swan, you sing like him, but you don't die"...