Chapter 22 1908

Roval, become Crupier's chief of staff!When I heard the news, my heart was surging, and I ran and jumped on the street like a child.I thought of Jael, Ruyter, and even Coppel, and I was going to tell them what happened, but I had to go to the ministry first, hoping to hug Eugene right away.The office is full of people, and Ou Ren has not taken up his post yet. I remember him saying to me last summer: "What can I do, man! There are only two things I've ever liked in life: One... and giving orders." Nothing in my literary life hurts me more than not being able to return a little of Grivan's appreciation for me.

Noah: That's what it was like to be a January gift, re-feeling his first poems, and every ten words my ears and my mind agree and hurt each other. There is, however, a certain nobility of character—that cannot be denied.If I were to write anything about him, I would admit that he was a great poet whose only fault was that he had to write in French. Yesterday morning, I watched "Eullaria" and "A Pot of Gold" at the Odeon Theater.For the first time, De Max tried to play what is commonly called a "joke" - and it was brilliant.It's a little too rigid about the details, though.I suspect that he could not achieve the simplicity of Nietzsche's words, this "serious corrosion of contours", without which no perfect work of art is possible.His pride defies criticism, but bows before the audience.These audiences—by which I mean mostly those in his box—pushed him irrevocably against his own aesthetic.

In his box yesterday, there were half a dozen worthless frivolous youngsters.Luckily there is also José de Charmois.Anyway, there's Breval, whom I only recognized through dialogue during rehearsals.She was not offended, and spoke to me of Copper very affectionately. Last night "King Candor" was performed for the first time in Berlin.Received this morning from Haggernan this telegram: Gurlitt (Nicia) does a great job of resisting half the audience with great success and the other half. The day after the premiere, the press was buzzing.Barnowski (the manager of the small theater) was terrified and hurriedly canceled the play from the playlist.

I corresponded frequently with Haggernan, and I was impressed by his loyalty at this juncture.An excellent article of his, published in ...(?), seeks to build an audience.Criticism of all sorts pushes back the faint desire that the audience might want to applaud. I'm worried that the performance of "Saul" will also be greatly implicated... This contest is very unfavorable.I have left a copy of Haggernan's letter for publication, in case it happens... Show more self-esteem than ambition, that's the whole recipe.And I've come to believe that justifiable accusations are more painful than unwarranted accusations.I've been told I'm a speculator... I've been accused of imitating Maeterlinck for a whore, a juggler, a burlesque writer!Or imitate Donnay, whose work I haven't read at all!To be honest, this kind of attack is simply pointless.

None of my criticisms did not pull out Hebel, and there is no doubt that it was these criticisms that killed Hebel during his lifetime.There was a lot of abuse, and the articles were surprisingly tedious, and only the first few were the ones I read from cover to cover.One begins: "The Reign of Candor was a great success in Paris. (!) We are not surprised by this... Wait,—einesolche Schweinerei... Wait." I couldn't sleep for a while at night, and the image of Luval appeared in my mind.During the day Coppel and I went to see him at the ministry, and he was talking to Ruyter.The four of us fled in a car and headed straight for Logier, where the von Reiselbergers were waiting for us.

I appreciate his ability to put on an annoying look—a look he dares now because there's nothing to gain in the conversation.His whole past seemed completely new to me.I believe I have sketched his image fairly accurately. Questionnaire for the Berliner Zeitung. On the twenty-fifth anniversary of Wagner's death, it is necessary to predict "what the masters and intellectuals of all Europe will think about the influence of Wagner's system, especially in France." I answer: I loathe Wagner himself and his work; and since my childhood my aversion has only grown stronger.This genius inspires not enough people but more than enough.He allowed a great many hipsters, literati, and fools to believe that they loved music, and a few men of art to believe that genius is learned.Never in the history of Germany, perhaps, has there been such a great and such a barbaric man.

I arrived too early yesterday, four hours and thirty-five hours before Mrs. Brownon's reception, and I visited the Trocadéro Museum.The critique and viewing arrangement is fantastic.Profitable. My visit was of little benefit to Madame Blancon: eight guests arrived in less than five minutes; the conversation was astonishingly empty.Mme. Brondon, however, talked mainly to me.When I got up to leave, she said: "There are very few people who have the pleasure of talking to..." What are the expressions of other people when they hear such compliments. "Frangi" magazine banquet.

I had promised Cobb never to leave him, but unfortunately I couldn't do it.The host kindly posed a problem for me by letting me sit to the right of Royeres (Ville-Grivan was on the left of Royeres, followed by Gustave Kahn).If I refuse, it will be unreasonable, and it will take a lot of lip service.On my right is Robert de Souza, then Gaion; at the corner of the dining table, Han Rinai, Apollinaire, Coppeau, John Schellenberg, and more than thirty other faces .About one hundred and fifty people attended the banquet.The beautiful hall on the second floor of the Cardinal's Palace.Food was passable; however I was nervous and couldn't eat much...

Description interrupted.There is no need to repeat the details.Apollinaire's appearance is very interesting and quite attractive.During the toast, a foolish young man, who had no opportunity to speak during the meal, to recite Royère's poems, went to the back and broke a mirror in the private office. "Very Dostoevsky," Kopp said as we walked back. ... Alas, my temperament always rises against any restraint, any rule my mind tries to impose upon it.What do I do about insomnia, or this nameless restlessness that keeps me from falling asleep?When I wake up tomorrow, do I know how I feel?After a night of anxiety and anxiety, can you devote yourself to work as sincerely as if you got enough sleep?I dream, I have always dreamed, that there is some way, that even my wild thoughts will be contained, that will allow me to be the best I can be; and that way, every day I must change.Yesterday afternoon, I couldn't have made it through the night without sleeping for two hours. --And so on.

Had a pretty good night last night, so this morning has been pretty good at work (foreword to Emmanuel Signore) - also able to take an hour to re-practice the piano.I have resolutely given up practicing piano for nearly two months because of my ailing writing envy. Johann Schellenberg had trouble sleeping and eating his plays. He revised and rewrote them according to the effect of his readings and everyone's good suggestions; Greeted him with a smile. "I don't think I'm good enough to be unappreciated," he said, and Cobb relayed it to me. "Hey! Hey! That's not a bad word..."

"But, as I told you," continued Coppel, "he talks best about his weaknesses." "That's not a bad word." Reread Francis Jam's tribute to Charles Guerin (Mercury, 1 April 1907).He has never written such a bad article.I don't like the way he celebrates Henri de Regnier as a sublime example, and a few months ago said he was a pretentious idiot. "With his slender fingers, grasp the wings of a sphinx that has escaped onto the street lamp." I can be sure that it is not a sphinx. --why? ——Because the wings of the sphinx do not close, and the sphinx does not stop falling... let alone! This last clipping, which completely sums up the stupidity of all other German newspaper clippings, I just want to keep this one and translate it as follows: "In Hebel's play," the article begins, "Condor is a savage king, and Giggs is a gentle Greek; Giggs is a savage, and the refined man is Condor... A few sentences are enough to show that M. Gide has not understood his subject at all." Verhaeren came and read me his highlights. Everyone talks about Debussy. "What a soulful man he is!" said Madame X. "Oh! No, Madame: he likes to caress," Madame Debussy interjected. Go to the Odeon Theater with Eugène Roval to hear a lecture by Maureas - followed by a performance: Euripides' Electra in prose by Ferdinand Errol pull".Many friends came to join in, and the lecturers had three curtain calls.I also applaud sincerely, but it is obvious that everyone is applauding the poets who wrote "Group of Poems" and "Chao Pilgrim".As for the lectures, they were long and tiresome, indescribable.Moreas's voice, which is very pleasant in a living room or a café, is low, monotonous, and pretentious in the theatre.In fact, he didn’t have many ideas, and he was afraid of lack of content, so he rambled as much as he could, aimlessly, shaking out all his old stories, and didn’t talk or rarely talked about Electra or Euripides. Instead of talking about Corneille, Shakespeare, Nietzsche, Malebe, Aristotle, Otway, Voltaire, and so on—often contented with reading old newspaper articles, I basically Remember, hear the words quoted and what follows.In those articles, what at first seemed delicate and prudent to me, is now innocuous, and no matter how well-intentioned I am, I can't taste anything in them.Many viewers took out books or newspapers.A few people made a lot of noise and simply stopped listening.It was almost noisy. We couldn't bear the actor's slurred speech and lack of acting skills, and left shortly after the curtain opened. A speech's own usefulness; must be understood. Moreas by no means exhausted the subject, but exhausted himself.One feels that he has said everything, and when he is done, he has nothing more to say. I really didn't know that Molière wrote very slowly!Very much, Le Maitre quotes Grimaster in his third lecture: "He does not write fast, but he is not annoyed that he is thought to be fast." Andrei related to Marcel Derouin that he had had the opportunity to read Nietzsche's unpublished letters for various reasons.After reading it, you can understand that he was not at all successful in teaching at Balle.It can also be seen that he has no respect for his sister at all: Eine dumme Gans, that's what he calls her. "These people have their butts in the church and their heads in the French Academy," Valery said. Went to "Wonderland" last night and managed to forget for a while the letter of Louis Roire Jr.: This letter kept me awake.We both had a noble (political) animosity for each other a few years ago, and it would have been easier to just cut things off then.Our friendship is like those suffering consumptives whose life is prolonged with care and lived only to suffer.This friendship brought me no joy, provided me with very little reason for self-respect, taught me nothing, and hurt me, as I tried to let it sink into my heart again. Louis Roire's visit was excellent, and I'd like to note that, just because I've written the blatant words up front. ... In the Mercury magazine (February 16th issue), I read a rather stupid article talking about and Punic archaeology. "Flaubert's fallacy," he said in the article, "where Flaubert got it wrong..." I'm still not sure if the author of the article, Mr. Peyzar, is even more wrong after reading it.It is very meaningful to write an explanatory essay. While in Italy last month, I happened to read this wonderful book again, not paying enough attention to it at first.The book may be a little childish, but it is a kind of childishness of the poet that cannot be reproached.I think that what Flaubert was looking for throughout the sources he relied on was not primarily a document but a kind of authorization.He abhors the reality of everyday life and is fascinated by things that are different from reality, which is especially evident in this book.Did he really believe, as Theophrastus did, that dark rubies were made of lynx urine?of course not!However, he pretended to believe this, and so did the rest, with the permission of a text of Theophrastus. Sublime style - the direct outlet of the heart; only the deep one can be achieved. I always dream first and then fall asleep.I fell asleep with the aid of dreams and truncated dreams. Stay for a week in Bagnoles-de-Grenade. Look at Bengesen's book ("Creative Process"), -- not too deep.The amazing importance of this book: Philosophy can escape here again. Let our intellect cut off a few pieces in the constant outer world, so as to be able to work on it, focus only on this little bit, and leave the rest to him... These poems by Valéry Larbeau are very interesting.After reading it, I realized that mine can be written even more brazenly. Speaking of Valéry Larbeau, Philippe said to Ruyter: "It's always a pleasure to meet someone who makes Gide look poor by comparison." Paul Laurent visited and stayed from October 2nd to 12th. I went back to Paris for a week.I just felt exhausted, and this state continued even after the Laurents left.However, on the 15th, I finished writing and went to shave on the 16th.I was taken aback by the lack of expression on the upper lip (as if something that had never been spoken suddenly sprang forth).How old I am! "My poor Andre!" Em exclaimed when he saw me; and added, "You'll surely see that you're wrong." (I didn't find out that quickly.) For at least three weeks, the weather has been surprisingly nice and the temperature has been hot.I'm going back to Paris tomorrow. We have been careful to protect the nests, and now the thrushes and blackbirds are raiding the fruit trees.I came into the garden with my little carbine, and had better luck than I had done a few days ago, and hit a blackbird with my first shot.Oh, God!I really don't have the mind of a hunter!I saw the poor bird, falling off the yew tree it was pecking at, and going the other way... Followed three little dolls yesterday and it wasn't long before they followed me. ... Fourteen (just arrived), thirteen and eight.The youngest and oldest are brothers.Soon we were sitting on a bench, them at one end and me at the other, and chatting. (The beginning is on the boulevard parallel to the Seine River, the bus stop: Auteuil, Saint-Sulpice in both directions; then it goes to the end of Mozart Street; this day is Halloween, the crowd coming out after mass , heavy traffic.) The oldest told me he was a "mechanic" and the second laughed... "He has long since ceased to be a mechanic." "So what is he doing now?" "Another line of work. But he won't tell." The boss looked like a ghost, and he also laughed, and when the other one went on, he didn't refute: "He does it with Mister." "What sir?" "You don't need to ask! If you are willing to do it." "What are you doing?" (The two children bent over with laughter.) "Dirty business." At this time, the younger brother hit the second child with his fist: "Not really! Not really." Unfortunately, the boss did not refute.The second child is getting more and more excited: "He even reprimanded people!" These children lived in the same house with their mother (what mother??), and they only stayed up for one or two o'clock in the morning, hanging out in cheap taverns and cafes, playing cards with the older children. Alexander Nathanson picked me up at about 2:30 and took me to see Nadelman, a young Polish sculptor. If it wasn't hostility, he just casually glanced at Pio's mural.We got into the sixty-horsepower car he was testing and drove to the Rue Boissonnade. Here are a few sentences of his conversation, but what should be noticed is his tone of voice, every sentence seems to be supplemented with tone: "I am such a person!" "As soon as I part with you, I must go to Billancourt," he said. "Yes: Visit a jam factory. They take a whole new approach to making jam..." "No fruit?" "That's not true. However, the fruit does not need to be boiled, but is frozen and placed at minus one hundred and ten degrees. One day, they let me taste... a strawberry; it's amazing, as if it was just picked; Yes, really, there is no difference at all." "Are you going to invest in this business?" "Well! No... Besides, I can't say for sure; with me, it's never easy to say; with me, the only thing you can be sure of is that I will never take care of the same thing for a long time... You know, There are very few people like me in the world! For example: In my purse, only bad securities are kept: Securities that can never be sold again... oh! Can only be used to paste the wall of my toilet! Sometimes, my brother Tad got mad at me: 'What are you doing with these dirty securities, aren't you asking for trouble?' I replied, 'Don't worry, my friend. I won't suffer. It's very simple. : Me, I never cared.'" In Nadelmann's engraving room, Nathanson leaned over me from time to time while the master was speaking, and said quickly and in a low voice: "People are cute! Isn't it?" And, very warm to me; make sure we meet again.I told him that I would be very busy for the next half month..."I will make arrangements as soon as I am done, right?" In the end, he just shook hands with me without saying goodbye. Interesting, rare--as Albert said of his cousin Isabel: "You should get in touch with her!"