Evening star., 1927-04-24
Translations Are Futile
- To Mind Of Claudel

of Frenchmen in general, and this one
in particular, including the young
footman.
but I did not find the delay at
all dull, Monsieur, this place is 30
beautiful and I was enjoying the
atmosphere of France"
"Ah, but 1t is bare and empty now"
he said. when my wife and chill.
dren come," he repeated. dwelling
upon the words, you must come
again when they are here" he added,
frightening up. But there is no
life here now. all is bare and empty"
And he looked wistfully about the gay
drawing room, missing something
which his visitor could not see.
Like most men of genius, he is
modest and unassuming, almost shy
in his demeanor. If he had not filled
so n4any important diplomatic posts,
exhibiting brilliant qualities in each,
one might attribute his shyness to
strange environment; but after China,
Japan, Italy, Germany and Brazil,
no land should seem out of the
ordinary. He has been q man of
affairs to such extent that 1t seems
a marvel how he has found time for
writing 10 dramas, nine volumes Of
poetry, philosophic treatise on the
art of poetry and various translations.
besides mass of uncollected period
ical literature.
A critic has described him as a
poet Of grand effects, q painter of
ensembles" and, in fact, one does
not think of words or details while
reading his creations, but of pictures.
the effects Of skies and stars, and
the Angelus pealing from the heights.
He is devout Catholic, and this
spirit breathes through all he has
written. 1t is interesting to know
how he became of the faith. When
very young man, and law gradu-
ate, he was an agnostic, finding him
self projected into the formularized
universe of the sos, an atmosphere
Of doubt and cold negation, taking
his place among the enlightened
minority" But, one Christmas day,
tired and bored with waiting for the
promised millennium, he wandered in.
to the Church of Notre Dame, not
for worship, but for inspiration from
the colorful ceremonies. And here
is his account of what happened:
"Then befell an event that has
Influenced my whole life; / suddenly
experienced a devastating sense of
the innocence and eternal childhood
of God. In an instant, my heart
was pierced, and / believed with a
complete surrender of my whole be-
ing, leaving no room for any species
of doubt, so that ever since all the
books and all the reasonings, and
all the hazards of a much agitated
life have not been able to shake or
touch my faith" So the shy, unas-
suming man is a strong man. And
all his work as poet dates from
that day Of his mystical experience;
as a biographer says, THE way Of
faith with Claudel is the way of
poetry"
He was born in 1868, in Villeveuve-
sur -Fere, little hamlet OF France
but since then the world has been
his theater. And now he is come
to mechanical America to represent
France and her problems.
So he comes to take up the diff
ficult duties Of diplomacy, so diff
cult in these parlous times. Per-
haps he would be happier at home
with leisure at last for writing his
poetry and dramas, his soul children
for which he never has had full
leisure, although the volume of his
work equals that of his cotem
poraries. Now. In the afternoon OF
| life, it might be imagined that he
would withdraw from the troubled
waters of diplomacy to pursue in
| peace his creative work. But, quot
| ing from one of his war poems, "Oh
France, as often as you direct"
HINDA BURKE.