Emil Zola: the writer who erected “ the highest heap of " sewage;? Part 1
“ Singer of a rest room “
it was called “ second-large “ writer of Europe. Nobody, except for Lev Tolstoy, could be compared to him in literary glory and the moral authority. It is difficult to believe that once the most outstanding and acute minds of France nearly unanimously declared that Zola has no talent at all that it, say, is too rough, and, above all, it is silly.
As soon as it was not called! “ Sramnopisets “ “ Singer of a rest room “ “ Pornographer “ … The journalist Edmon Sherer wrote that “ Zola with the same pleasure inhales smells of excrements as Louis XIV in due time loved aroma of comfort “. Even Anatole France, the hot fan of his creativity, wrote about it: “ Nobody to it erected so high heap of " sewage;.
Tomatoes were thrown not into actors, and into the author …
In the history of literature hardly the writer who at the beginning of the literary career took out so many humiliations and insults as Zola will be. When in theater gave its play, at the end of a performance the public floutingly chanted: “ The author is not necessary! “. When it mocked and catcalled, left theater, common people - the rack of street beggars and young idlers - hooted and threw into it rotten tomatoes. The recent audience, controllers and even actors occupied in a performance poured out on the street to take a look at this new, more spectacular performance. Zola`s
clenched fists and, without looking back, quickly left. Left, but never ran. “ I consider, - he those years, - wrote that insults are useful, lack of recognition - school of courage. Nothing so supports force and flexibility as a rappberry of fools “. Who could think then that ten years later Zola will become pride of all mankind, and his name - visiting card France?
When there is no trousers, necessarily you will write a masterpiece!
the Literary glory to Zola came not at once. For nearly two years, at once upon termination of study, it had to conduct the most cruel fight for existence. This fight was furious: one winter Zola ate only bread, dipping it in vegetable oil. It put a drag-net on a roof and caught sparrows. With tears in the eyes it turned off them necks and fried them, stringing on a steel rod from a curtain. Sometimes, having put the last clothes, even trousers, it, having remained in one underwear and having wrapped in a blanket, on the whole weeks stayed houses, trying to write a masterpiece which would relieve it of hunger and poverty.
If hunger - the best seasoning, then need - the best teacher: it is not enough - Pomala it begins to be printed, he is employed in the newspaper, he becomes the popular journalist.
He caught sea hedgehogs and right there ate them … Several years of desperate fight for a survival do not pass
completely. Zola turns into the terrible glutton. The lion`s share of the, now not small, earnings it spends for tamping of all house cases and buffets edibles. According to Maupassant, Zola could “ to eat one for three ordinary novelists “ which big gourmets, as we know, in itself and gluttons. He indulged in gluttony to such an extent that once, being by the sea, caught sea hedgehogs and right there ate these “ sea saucers “ tearing off them from rocks.
“ That will ruin me, so it is spicy foods, cockleshells and a heap of delightful nasty things which I eat in unreasonable quantity “ - he wrote. He, seemingly, did not pay attention to constant diarrheas - “ what trifle! “.
as a result, Zola terribly grew plump: with a small growth it began to weigh 100 kilograms, and his waist in volume reached 114 centimeters. “ Brain stomach “ - his friends so called. To Zola`s honor, he managed, having gone on a rigid diet, in a short space of time to bring the weight to 75 kilograms.
The pack rat
When material independence came, Zola found one more weakness - passion to any pseudo-art knickknacks. It turned the office into the real museum. Figurines Indian budd, ancient candlesticks, vases, bowls, cockleshells, snuffboxes, pipes, objects of church use, an armor, pseudo-antique rarities occupied all free space. On walls of an office the Persian carpets, the Scandinavian gobelins, a cold weapon from all parts of the world, pictures, engravings and even the Japanese kimono flaunted tracheny with a moth.
Zola`s Guests were surprised to bad taste of the owner who turned the house into the real flea market. Aleksandrina, Zola`s wife, did not lag behind the husband and, in turn, was mad about furniture and bed linen which filled all cases. After a lunch both, both the husband, and the wife, everyone in itself, ran on antique shops that by the evening to brag before each other of the next purchase - one more figurine or the whatnot.
The devourer of ink Edmon Goncourt wrote
about Zola: “ It seems to me by the car greased for continuous production - without respite, without rest “. Years of obscurity and vegetation really turned Zola into the literary car working without interruption, day by day, from year to year. Where it was, he never left the manuscripts and notebooks. And always, conforming to the rule written by gold letters at it on a fireplace - “ Not a day without a line “ - time since early morning to a lunch he steadily saw off behind a desk. Someone even counted what in a year Zola used up more than 2 - x liters of ink …
What can be more terrible than the first appointment?
Undersized, weak-willed, short-sighted, awfully lisping and having a burr, real “ mother`s darling “ Zola neither in youth, nor in maturity had no success in an opposite sex. Too shy and closed, it every time failed in communication with women. For the sensitive and not adapted for life young man to become the adult and to possess the woman - means to receive the certificate on a maturity. But how to receive it when he so is afraid of women?
the First attempt to receive such “ certificate “ came to the end with an embarrassment. Somehow, having taken courage, he retired to thickets of a dense garden with one “ pink hat “. Without knowing what in such cases needs to be done and speak, he for several minutes was lost in thoughts. Out of catalepsy he was brought by a request “ pink hat “. Having modestly lowered eyes, she whispered: “ The Monsieur, kiss, please, me on a breast “.
Such offer would delight any man. But only not Zola. It, having heard it, comes to indescribable horror. His already pale face in a flash loses the last signs of life and … our chaste hero turns the tail! Runs carelessly, destroying bushes and beds on the way … Alas, the baptism for a maturity had to be postponed until the best times.
However, unlike peers, Zola not especially was ashamed of the innocence. To the friend he admits the letter: “ I loved only in dreams, and I was never loved in a different way “. In other letter he writes: “ You ask me about my beloved. My beloved are my dreams “.
To be continued]