Rimbaud's girl

She just passed her 6th birthday on June 15th, and she feels that she has "grown up".Gabriel sent her a birthday present from London: two unusually fine wooden fountain pens, some kind of mahogany wood, hard and carved, with shell and silver inlays on them.

The collection significance of these two pens is greater than the practical value. She tried to write with the pens: the nibs are of excellent workmanship and the writing is smooth.

Before she asked Gabriel to do something, he explained the progress of the matter in two letters.The exact address is of course easy to find. Paul Verlaine was indeed ill, but it was just a common flu, far from dying; the boy named Leopold stole Verlaine’s money and ran away, Verlaine Relying on the support of a few friends in London, he did not starve to death, but he did live in a difficult situation for a while; after he recovered from his illness, he found a job as a French tutor.

He asked Vitaly, what should we do next?Persuading Verlaine to die was not a very good job, that coward just refused to die.Vitaly wrote back, telling him not to let him go back to Paris, warning him that if he did, the police would be waiting for him.People who are afraid of death are also afraid of going to jail.

It wasn't a one-and-done solution, but as long as he didn't go back to France and harass Arthur, she could pretend he didn't exist.

Arthur didn't ask Verlaine, and he didn't seem to think about him anymore.He had a great time playing with Fran, who was proficient in the most fashionable game for young people nowadays, and taught Arthur a lot in "playing".Vitaly doesn't mind that Forlan teaches him some "not very good" ways to play. Arthur should play with his peers. Forlan is a young man with a plan for himself. He is determined to become a well-known painter within 10 years. It's a pity, and I don't know how to mess around, so I don't have to worry about him playing too crazy with Arthur.

Regarding the "future", Arthur Rimbaud, who is 18 years old and 9 months old, is actually still not very clear.

"I can't say," he said. "In Charleville, all I wanted was to get away from home, from that dead, boring little town, from my mother—"

"Why do you want to leave?" Flaubert asked.

"The air in there...the air is so unbearable that I wouldn't even want to go home for Christmas, if Vitaly hadn't insisted that I go back." He frowned.

"A person's hometown and family will have a great impact on him. You can hate it, but you can also love it at the same time."

"And you, monsieur? Do you like Rouen? Do you like—Crosswald?"

"Crossvale is my home. I don't like my family very much, but I like where I grew up. Here," he tapped the lawn at his feet with his cane, "have some happy memories, for these Remember, I'd love to live here, too."

Arthur nodded.Mrs. Caroline was a traditional kind old lady who gave all her love to her children and put no pressure on them.From this point of view, he envied Flaubert.

"I haven't thought about what the future will be like. I can go to Paris from Charleville to go to university, which is a good thing I haven't thought about before. It's Vitaly," he smiled and looked at the person who was sitting obediently not far away. In the chair, the younger sister of Forlan's model, "she insisted that I need to have a college degree. My family is very poor, sir, and I don't have a large inheritance to inherit. I have to find a way to make money so that my mother and sisters can Better off, having a diploma should get me there faster."

He was very blunt and did not think poverty was something to be ashamed of.

"Frederick has limited abilities and can only take care of himself. Vitaly - she is a different girl, she should not come to study with you, she is just a girl from a small frontier town, in her twenties Marrying a young man in the city with a similar family background is the way for a girl like her to go. But she has already arrived in Paris, and she will not go back, let alone she has decided to be either a writer or a painter. .She won't go back, and neither will I."

"What you said last time, you want to find a job in a newspaper, do you have any idea?"

"A few. I'm writing for some newspapers now, and they pay me by the word." Arthur was pleased. "Most of the manuscripts are not interesting, and I publish them under a pseudonym; the ones that are 'interesting', I use my own published by name."

That's not bad.Flaubert felt that the nature of the job suited the handsome young man.His temperament is unlikely to endure honestly staying in the office. This kind of work - Vitaly called it "freelance" - is more suitable for him. The disadvantage is that the income is not stable, but when he is familiar with giving newspapers After the way the feed works, there will be more job opportunities.

As for Vitaly, she is now busy playing, painting, and being a model for Foran, and she has temporarily put down writing.Still scrambling to find the right publisher to sell Arthur's poems.

Arthur has finished writing a collection of prose poems, the title of which is Season in Hell.He brought the manuscripts with him, sorted out some of the unsatisfactory ones, and threw them into the fireplace—there was no need for the servants to light the fireplace in July—the remaining poems were just stacked casually. Give it to Vitaly.

She asked if there was an order in the poems, and Arthur felt that no order was necessary, but wrote the page numbers on some manuscript paper anyway.

"You don't have to pay too much attention to the order, and you don't need the order. You should be able to read any page you turn, and—try to understand."

"You should know that not too many people can 'understand' your poems."

"Yeah, maybe. But it's not my fault, those people are stupid!"

"I can't understand it very well either. I know you write very well, but if you want me to analyze why you write like this, I can't explain it clearly."

Arthur looked at her and smiled, "Why do you want to analyze it? A poem should touch you from the bottom of your heart, or make you resonate and think about it. You don't really need to 'understand' it."

She thought for a while, then nodded, "Poetry is different from poetry, you need people to understand what you're talking about."

"No, it may be that there is no clear story."

Vitaly was stunned, and said hesitantly, "Is it okay?"

"Why not? It's just a form of creation. In fact, the main purpose is to serve creators. I think it's fine if I say what I want to say. I don't have to consider whether readers can understand."

"It's true to say that, but isn't one of the purposes of creation so that others can understand what you want to express? The story you want to tell, the thought you want to express, you write, you just want to have readers , otherwise you only need to put those things in your head, why bother to write them out?"

Arthur thought about it for a long time, "You are right. Creation should not only be written for yourself, but also for others. I want others to understand what I am talking about, but I will not To make it easier for others to understand, and to change the way I write. Of course I can write that way, and I can still write very well, but if 'creation' is not for being able to speak freely and write what I want to write, then it is completely meaningless Already!"

"However, if you have no readers, it means that no one will buy your poetry collection or."

This is a very real problem. "Maybe I will be the kind of author who can't sell a collection of poems during his lifetime, but can become a little famous after his death." Such authors are not uncommon.

He said it lightly, as if he had already thought about this issue.Vitaly was very sad, "You won't, an excellent and clever poet cannot be buried because his works are too advanced, 'talent' or 'talent' is always a scarce commodity, a smart head should Get what he deserves—status."

"Don't cry." He said softly, "I don't really care about myself, I mean, I know that someone will recognize my work in the future, so whether someone will recognize my creation now, I don't care much .”

"I thought you, you should want to be recognized by others, so think about it now."

"That's what I thought at first, yes, but it was hard." He sighed, reaching up and gently tugging at her braids, "I'm just an Ardennes country boy, I'm a genius, yes, I Clear enough about myself, but geniuses are not uncommon. I want to be famous, yes, but I care more about who I am, and I need to be clear enough about myself before I can let readers Go—to recognize me and my work. Creation is a lonely thing, whether you write drama or poetry, it is the same. You said that 'a thousand audiences have a thousand Hamlets in their hearts' , I see what you mean when you say that, everyone's 'experience' is different, that's the word, isn't it?

"I am only 18 years old. For most writers, they don't know what they will do when they are 18 years old. In fact, most people don't know who they are and what they want to do when they are 18 years old; and I , I knew it at the age of 15 -->>

What do I want to be? I am a genius, and I want to be a lauded young genius.Verlaine—" he smiled a little, "he said I was 'Son of the Sun', and although most of what he said was bullshit, I liked that word.I may be destined to be a person who longs for the sun's rays. I am not Icarus. I am not afraid of being burned by the sun. Same, aimless life. "

Arthur is right. For a genius, the fear is a lifetime of mediocrity.

He is proud and has the qualifications to be proud. It's not like he doesn't know how to "compromise". For example, he has already contributed articles to several newspapers. Should he be regarded as the earliest "freelance reporter"?His heart is full of passion, but he also knows that he has to take on the responsibility of his brother, and wants to make as much money as possible so that she can live more comfortably.

His male chauvinism is still quite serious, and he has already considered her future marriage. He is worried that she will not find a good marriage partner because of the small dowry, and he is very concerned about saving her dowry; You still have to get married, except that soldiers and poets are strictly forbidden to consider it, as long as the other party is good-looking, has a small family fortune, and treats her well, then you can consider it.

Vitaly didn't comment on his idea, and didn't respond: What are you talking about?Although France's current civil law stipulates that women can get married at the age of 15 with the consent of their parents, but who the hell wants to get married at the age of 15?Just like Mathilde, who got married at the age of 16, didn't she just meet a scumbag?Is it bad to be single?Wouldn't it be nice to make money and spend it yourself?Why do you want to get married? !

She was busy looking for a suitable publisher, collected advertisements from newspapers, transcribed the names of the publishers and the types of publications one by one, selected a few of them, sent them letters and some poems, and asked if they would like to publishing.After all, there is no better way of self-promotion in this era. Most people who want to publish poetry anthologies can only rely on self-recommendation, except for recommendations from acquaintances or works that have already been published.

Vitaly didn't hold out much hope for this kind of self-recommendation.

The reason why Arthur sent letters to the seniors in the poetry circle everywhere before was that he wanted to get into the circle first and get acquainted with each other. However, since he gradually alienated from the small circle of the Parnas faction, this road is not easy to go. pass.After he got acquainted with Verlaine, he only published two poems in newspapers, which did not receive any strong response. The essence was that his poems were not as "easy to understand" as those of the Parnasian poets, such as Sully Prue. Dom, the first winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in the future, published the collection of poems "Lonely Collection" in 1869, including "The Broken Vase":

"The fan cracked slightly

A vase of withered verbena;

This is but a light touch;

Didn't make any sound.

But this slight crack,

nibbling away at the crystal vessel every day,

Covertly but truly extended,

Slowly crack the walls of the bottle in circular motions.

Cool drops of water seep out,

The sap of the flowers is all dried up,

No one has discovered this yet;

Don't touch the vase, it's cracked.

So often is the hand of a lover,

Bruise the heart, leave traces;

Then the heart broke itself,

The flower of love withers and dies;

On the surface it looks intact;

Feel the scars grow deep,

The heart weeps and mourns;

It's broken, don't touch it. "

Vitaly couldn't write poetry herself well, but that didn't stop her from laughing at the serious poetry, thinking that no one could compare with her brother. "Talent" is such a rare thing. Once you have seen those poems full of inspiration, and then read those "bland and boring" poems, you will feel weak and incomparable.

In "A Season of Hell", I randomly pulled out a poem manuscript, which is the shining text:

"Have I not a heroic, beautiful, and illusory youth, Luckily written on the gold plates? From what madness, what error, that in reality I am so weak? You say that beasts weep with sorrow, and sick people despair, The dead are tormented by nightmares, so please also tell me the reasons for my sinking and drowsiness. I can no longer explain myself, just like beggars can't explain the "Our Father" and "Half Mary" they recite. No more words!

But today, my fate with hell is over.That was a hell indeed; the ancient hell, whose gates the Son of Man has opened.

The same desert, the same night, I opened my tired eyes again under the silver starlight, but the Lord of life, the magi who worshiped the newborn Jesus, remained indifferent in heart, spirit and mind.When can we pay tribute to new labor and new wisdom on the beach and the peaks!Hail the flight of tyrants, devils, and the end of superstition—be the first messenger—for Christmas on earth!

Song of heaven, footsteps of the people!Slaves, we never curse life. "

She read Arthur's poems to Flaubert, surrounded by Zola and Turgenev.

It was in Paris, Flaubert's first trip to Paris after his mother's funeral.

Vitaly advised him not to stay in the manor all the time, but to go out and relax, so he decided to bring the Rimbaud brothers and sisters to Paris to meet old friends.

Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev is a descendant of Russian aristocrats. He is 55 years old this year and has an extraordinary appearance. Emile Zola is 33 years old. He is in his prime. He married 3 years ago and started saving Beard, now a handsome middle-aged man with a nice beard.

Friends all know that the Rimbaud brothers and sisters are considered Flaubert's students, and Vitaly is both a student and a companion. She is very necessary in the Crosval Manor, which can prevent Flaubert from being immersed in the loss of his mother all day long. In grief.So Flaubert was willing to introduce young students to his friends, and they all found it understandable and acceptable.

Turgenev himself is a poet, with a high level of appreciation, and immediately realized the beauty of these poems: it is a kind of surging youthful passion, sharp, and the words flow out of his pen, pure and natural, leading the youth to grow The tearing pain of stepping into youth, the uncertain youthful agitation of questioning everything and hating everything—

"In the fields of concern...Satan, Ferdinand, ran with the wild seed...Jesus walked on the crimson bushes, and did not bend them....Jesus stepped upon the turbulent waters, the lamp The lamp shows us his figure: white, with brown sash, standing among the emerald waves...

I want to unravel all mysteries: the mysteries of religion and nature, life and death, the future, the past, the origin of the universe, chaos, emptiness.I am the master of phantoms.

listen! ..."

Zola, needless to say, also felt the passion in poetry at once.

The author of these poems was right in front of them, unbelievably young, with the fat of a teenager on his face, so immature that it was impossible to connect the real person with the poem.

Vitaly's voice is very nice, and it's still a girl's sweet and crisp voice, which is in the period of voice change, but the voice change period of girls is not as dramatic as that of boys.She read her brother's poems softly, full of emotion, cadence and rhythm, full of music.

After reading, she put down the manuscript, looked at Flaubert, and then at Turgenev, Zola, Arthur, Furlin, and Arthur's good friend in Charleville, Ernest Drahel.

Flaubert didn't speak, just looked at Turgenev with a smile, his face was full of complacency.

Turgenev smiled very restrainedly, "Look! You have found a great student!" His voice was low and he spoke fluent French.

Resisting the urge to laugh out loud, Flaubert looked at Zola again.

Zola leaned back on the sofa, tapped her fingers on her knees, "It's amazing!"