Charles Pierre Baudelaire
- Charles Baudelaire was born on April 9, 1821.
- He died on August 31, 1867.
- He was a nineteenth-century French poet, critic, and translator.
- Famous for his book of poetry Les fleurs du mal (The Flowers of Evil)
- Baudelaire's father, François Baudelaire, a senior civil servant and amateur artist, was 34 years older than his mother, Caroline.
- Baudelaire's father died during his childhood and remained very close to his mother.
- Charles Baudelaire's relationship with his mother was comlex and dominated his life.
- His mother married Lieutenant Colonel Jacques Aupick a year after his father's death.
- Charles Baudelaire was forced to to board away from his mother (even during holidays) and accept his stepfather's rigid methods.
- Baudelaire
- Baudelaire's stepfather was concerned about his future.
- At 18 years old, Charles was still undecided about his future.
- He began to frequent prostitutes.
- Trying to change Charles' mind and behavior, his stepfather sent him to India.
- The arduous trip, however, did nothing to turn Baudelaire's mind away from a literary career or from his casual attitude toward life.
- He retuned home and spent a life of and squandred his money and his inheritance and even gone into depth.
- The most important work Baudelaire wrote was "Les fleurs du mal". When it was first published it was criticised and found a small, appreciative audience. But later "Les fleurs du mal" was supported by a number of notables like Victor Hugo and Flaubert
Charles Baudelaire's Work
BEAUTYby: Charles Baudelaire
- AM as lovely as a dream in stone,
- And this my heart where each finds death in turn,
- Inspires the poet with a love as lone
- As clay eternal and as taciturn.
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- Swan-white of heart, a sphinx no mortal knows,
- My throne is in the heaven's azure deep;
- I hate all movements that disturb my pose,
- I smile not ever, neither do I weep.
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- Before my monumental attitudes,
- That breathe a soul into the plastic arts,
- My poets pray in austere studious moods,
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- For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts,
- Have pools of light where beauty flames and dies,
- The placid mirrors of my luminous eyes.
More poems here:
Poems by Charles Baudelaire
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