André Maurois biography read. Biography and books of the writer Maurois

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The real name of the person whom readers around the world know as André Maurois is Emil Solomon Wilhelm Erzog. This is a famous French writer, literary critic, historian; he is recognized as the consummate master of writing biographies of famous people in the form of a novel. The creative pseudonym after some time turned into his official name.

Maurois was born in Elpheb, a place near Rouen, on July 26, 1885. His family were Alsatian Jews who converted to the Catholic faith, who moved to Normandy after 1871 and became French subjects. In 1897, Andre was a student at the Rouen Lyceum, at the age of 16 he became the holder of a licentiate degree. After completing his studies at the Lyceum, he enters the University of Cannes. Almost at the same time, his career began: the young man got a job at his father's factory and worked there as an administrator during 1903-1911.

When World War I broke out, André Maurois took part in hostilities as a liaison officer and military translator. The impressions received in the war helped Maurois try his hand at the literary field and became the basis for his first novel, The Silent Colonel Bramble. After its publication in 1918, Maurois learns what success is, and his fame immediately went beyond the borders of his native country, the work was warmly received in Great Britain and America.

After the end of the war, André Maurois worked at the editorial office of the Croix-de-feu magazine. Inspired by the success of his first novel, the aspiring writer dreamed not of a career in a magazine, but of a professional career in literature. Already in 1921, his new novel, Speeches of Dr. O'Grady, was published. When his father died, Maurois, having sold the production, from 1925 devoted all his efforts to the creation of literary works. During the 20-30s. he wrote a trilogy about the life of the famous English representatives of romanticism - Shelley, Disraeli and Byron. He also wrote a number of other novels. On June 23, 1938, a significant event took place in the life of Maurois: his literary merits were recognized by his election to the French Academy.

When the Second World War began, the writer volunteered for the active French army, served with the rank of captain; then he was 54 years old. When France was occupied by Nazi troops, Maurois moved to the United States, where he worked as a teacher at the University of Kansas. 1943 was marked by the departure to North Africa; he returned to his homeland in 1946. During this period, Maurois wrote the book "In Search of Marcel Proust" (1949), collections of short stories.

The writer worked to a ripe old age. In the year of his 80th birthday, he wrote a novel, which became the last in a series of biographical works - "Prometheus, or the Life of Balzac" (1965). Just a few days before his death, the last point was put in his memoirs.

The contribution of André Maurois to national literature is truly great - two hundred books, as well as over a thousand articles. He was a multi-genre writer, from under his pen came out not only the biographies of great people who glorified him, but also fantastic short stories, psychological stories, novels, philosophical essays, historical works, popular science works. Maurois was elected Honorary Doctor of Oxford and Edinburgh Universities, was a Knight of the Legion of Honor (1937). The writer also led a fairly active social life, was a member of several public organizations, collaborated with publications of a democratic orientation.

Death overtook Andre Maurois in his own house, located in one of the suburbs of Paris, on October 9, 1967.

André Maurois

Letters to a stranger

LETTRES A L'INCONNUE

Letters to a stranger

You exist, and yet you are not. When a friend of mine asked me to write to you once a week, I mentally drew an image of you. I created you beautiful - both in your face and in your mind. I knew: you will not hesitate to emerge alive from my dreams and begin to read my messages, and answer them, and tell me everything that the author longs to hear.

From the very first day I gave you a certain look - the look of an extremely beautiful and young woman whom I saw in the theater. No, not on stage - in the hall. None of those who were with me knew her. Since then, you have acquired eyes and lips, a voice and become, but, as befits, you are still a Stranger.

Two or three of my letters appeared in print, and, as expected, I began to receive answers from you. Here "you" is a collective person. There are many different strangers of you: one is naive, the other is absurd, and the third is a minx and a mockery. I was impatient to start a correspondence with you, but I resisted: you had to remain all, it was impossible for you to become one.

You reproach me for my restraint, for my unchanging sentimental moralism. But what can you do? And the most patient of people will remain faithful to a stranger only on the condition that one day she will open to him. Merimee quickly learned that his stranger's name was Jenny Daken, and soon he was allowed to kiss her lovely legs. Yes, our idol must have legs and everything else, for we get tired of contemplating an incorporeal goddess.

I promised that I would continue this game as long as I enjoy it. More than a year passed, I put an end to our correspondence, there were no objections. An imaginary breakup is not difficult at all. I will keep a wonderful, unclouded memory of you. Farewell.

A. M.

About one meeting

That evening I was not alone at the Comédie Française. "They only gave Moliere," but with great success. The Lady of Iran laughed heartily; Robert Kemp seemed to be blissful; Paul Leoto attracted gazes.

The lady sitting next to us whispered to her husband: "I will tell Aunt Clemence on the phone that I saw Leoto, she will be delighted."

You were sitting in front, wrapped in polar fox furs, and, as in the days of Musset, a selected "black braid on a wondrous flexible neck" swayed before me. During intermission, you bent down to your friend and asked briskly: "How to become loved?" In my turn, I wanted to bend over to you and answer with the words of one of Moliere's contemporaries: “To please others, you need to talk to them about what is pleasant to them and what interests them, to avoid disputes about unimportant subjects, rarely ask questions and in no way the case does not give them the suspicion that you can be smarter than they. "

Here are the tips from someone who knew people! Yes, if we want to be loved, we need to talk to others not about what takes US, but about what takes their. And what occupies them? They are themselves. We will never bore a woman if we talk to her about her character and beauty, if we ask her about her childhood, about her tastes, about what makes her sad. You also never get bored with a man if you ask him to talk about himself. How many women have earned the reputation of skillful listeners! However, there is no need to listen, it is enough just to pretend that you are listening.

"Avoid disputes about unimportant subjects." Arguments presented in a harsh tone drive the interlocutor mad. Especially when the truth is on your side. “Any sensible remark hurts,” Stendhal said. Your interlocutor may have to admit the irrefutability of your arguments, but he will never forgive you for this. In love, a man strives not for war, but for peace. Blessed are gentle and meek women, they will be loved more. Nothing drives a man out of himself more than a woman's aggressiveness. Amazons are deified, but not adored.

Another, quite worthy way to please, is to speak flatteringly about people. Telling them this will give them pleasure and they will feel good about you in return.

I do not like Madame de ... - someone said.

What a pity! And she finds you simply charming and tells everyone she meets about it.

Really? .. It turns out that I was mistaken about her.

The converse is also true. One sarcastic phrase, moreover retold in an unkind manner, breeds the worst enemies. "If we all knew everything that is said about all of us, no one would talk to anyone." The trouble is that sooner or later everyone will find out what everyone is saying about everyone.

Let us return to La Rochefoucauld: "Under no circumstances should they be suspected of being wiser than they are." Isn't it possible to love and admire someone at the same time? Of course, you can, but only if he does not express his superiority with arrogance and it is balanced by small weaknesses that allow others in their turn to patronize him. The smartest man I have known, Paul Valéry, showed his intelligence quite naturally. He clothed deep thoughts in a playful form; he was inherent in both childishness and cute pranks, which made him unusually charming. Another smartest person is both serious and important, but still amuses friends with his unconscious arrogance, absent-mindedness or quirks. He is forgiven for being talented because he can be funny; and you will be forgiven for being beautiful because you keep simple. Even a great man will never get tired of a woman if she remembers that he is also a man.

How do you become loved? Giving those you want to capture with good reasons to be happy with themselves. Love begins with the joyful feeling of one's own strength, combined with the happiness of another. To like is to both give and receive. That's what, a stranger of my soul (as the Spaniards say), I would like to answer you. I will add one more - the last - advice, it was given by Merime his stranger: “Never say anything bad about yourself. Your friends will do it. " Farewell.

About the limits of tenderness

Paul Valery was excellent at talking about many things, and in particular about love; he liked to talk about passions in mathematical terms: he quite reasonably believed that the contrast between the precision of expression and the elusiveness of feelings generates an exciting incongruity. I especially liked one of his formula, which I dubbed Valerie's theorem: "The amount of tenderness radiated and absorbed every day has a limit."

In other words, not a single person is able to live all day, let alone weeks or years, in an atmosphere of tender passion. Everything is tiresome, even the fact that you are loved. It is useful to recall this truth, for many young people, as well as old people, apparently do not even suspect about it. The woman revels in the first raptures of love; she is overwhelmed with joy when she is told from morning till night how beautiful she is, how witty, how blissful it is to possess her, how wonderful her words are; she echoes these praises and assures her partner that he is the best and smartest man in the world, an incomparable lover, a wonderful companion. And to both this and the other is where it is pleasant. But what's next? The possibilities of the language are not limitless. “At first, it is easy for lovers to talk to each other ... - said the Englishman Stevenson. "I am me, you are you, and all others are of no interest."

You can repeat in a hundred ways: "I am me, you are you." But not for a hundred thousand! And there is an endless string of days ahead.

What is the name of such a marriage union when a man is content with one woman? a certain examiner asked an American student.

Monotonous, she replied.

So that monogamy does not turn into monotony, one must vigilantly ensure that tenderness and the forms of its expression alternate with something else. The love couple should be refreshed by the "winds from the sea": communication with other people, common work, spectacles. Praise touches, being born as if by chance, involuntarily - from mutual understanding, shared pleasure; becoming an indispensable rite, it becomes boring.

Octave Mirbeau has a short story, written in the form of a dialogue between two lovers who meet every evening in the park by the light of the moon. A sensitive lover whispers in a voice even more tender than a moonlit night: "Look ... Here is that bench, oh dear bench!" The beloved sighs in despair: "Again this bench!" Let us beware of benches that have become places of worship. Gentle words that appear and pour out at the very moment of manifestation of feelings are charming. Tenderness in hardened expressions is annoying.

LETTRES A L'INCONNUE

Héritiers André Maurois, Anne-Mary Charrier, Marseille, France, 2006

Translation. Y. Lesyuk, 2015

Russian edition by AST Publishers, 2015

Letters to a stranger

A. M.

About one meeting

The lady sitting next to us whispered to her husband: "I will tell Aunt Clemence on the phone that I saw Leoto, she will be delighted."

Here are the tips from someone who knew people! Yes, if we want to be loved, we need to talk with others not about what occupies us, but about what occupies them. And what occupies them? They are themselves. We will never bore a woman if we talk to her about her character and beauty, if we ask her about her childhood, about her tastes, about what makes her sad. You also never get bored with a man if you ask him to talk about himself. How many women have earned the reputation of skillful listeners! However, there is no need to listen, it is enough just to pretend that you are listening.

"Avoid disputes about unimportant subjects." Arguments presented in a harsh tone drive the interlocutor crazy. Especially when the truth is on your side. “Any sensible remark hurts,” Stendhal said. Your interlocutor may have to admit the irrefutability of your arguments, but he will never forgive you for this. In love, a man strives not for war, but for peace. Blessed are gentle and meek women, they will be loved more. Nothing drives a man out of himself more than a woman's aggressiveness. Amazons are deified, but not adored.

Another, quite worthy way to please, is to speak flatteringly about people. Telling them this will give them pleasure and they will feel good about you in return.

- I do not like Madame de ... - someone said.

- What a pity! And she finds you simply charming and tells everyone she meets about it.

- Really? .. It turns out that I was mistaken about her.

How do you become loved? Giving those you want to capture with good reasons to be happy with themselves. Love begins with the joyful feeling of one's own strength, combined with the happiness of another. To like is to both give and receive. That's what, a stranger of my soul (as the Spaniards say), I would like to answer you. I will add one more - the last - advice, it was given to his stranger by Merima: “Never say anything bad about yourself. Your friends will do it. " Farewell.

About the limits of tenderness

In other words, not a single person is able to live all day, let alone weeks or years, in an atmosphere of tender passion. Everything is tiresome, even the fact that you are loved. It is useful to recall this truth, for many young people, as well as old people, apparently do not even suspect about it. The woman revels in the first raptures of love; she is overwhelmed with joy when she is told from morning till night how beautiful she is, how witty, how blissful it is to possess her, how wonderful her words are; she echoes these praises and assures her partner that he is the best and smartest man in the world, an incomparable lover, a wonderful companion. And to that and to the other it is as pleasant as it is. But what's next? The possibilities of the language are not limitless. “At first, it is easy for lovers to talk to each other ... - said the Englishman Stevenson. "I am me, you are you, and all others are of no interest."

You can repeat in a hundred ways: "I am me, you are you." But not a hundred thousand! And there is an endless string of days ahead.

- What is the name of such a marriage union when a man is content with one woman? A certain examiner asked an American student.

“Monotonous,” she replied.

Octave Mirbeau has a short story, written in the form of a dialogue between two lovers who meet every evening in the park by the light of the moon. A sensitive lover whispers in a voice even more tender than a moonlit night: "Look ... Here is that bench, oh dear bench!" The beloved sighs in despair: "Again this bench!" Let us beware of benches that have become places of worship. The tender words that appear and pour out at the very moment of manifestation of feelings are charming. Tenderness in hardened expressions is annoying.

A woman who is aggressive and dissatisfied with everything quickly bores a man; but an undemanding woman, who innocently admires everyone, will not retain her power over him for long. Contradiction? Of course. Man is woven from contradictions. Ebb and flow. “He is condemned to constantly go from seizures of anxiety to numbness of boredom,” says Voltaire. Many representatives of the human race are so created that they easily get used to being loved and do not value too much a feeling in which they are too confident.

One woman doubted the man's feelings and concentrated all her thoughts on him. Suddenly, she finds out that he reciprocates her. She is happy, but if he repeats all day long that she is perfection, she will probably get tired of it. Another man, not so accommodating, piques her curiosity. I knew a young girl who sang with pleasure in front of guests; she was very pretty, and therefore everyone praised her to heaven. Only one young man remained silent.

- Well, what about you? - she finally broke down. - Do you not like the way I sing?

- Oh, on the contrary! He replied. - If you also had a voice, it would be just wonderful.

It was for him that she married. Farewell.

About the immutability of human feelings

I'm back in the theater; this time, alas, you are not there. I am sorry for myself and for you. I want to shout: "Bravo, Russen, this is a glorious comedy!" One scene particularly amused the audience. A certain young man rewarded his father's secretary with a child. He has no position, no money, she is clever and earns her own living. He proposes to her and is refused. And then the mother of the young father bitterly complains: "My poor boy, she seduced him and left him ... Compromised and refuses to cover up the sin!"

The classic situation is reversed. But these days, economic relations between both sexes are often, so to speak, turned inside out. Women earn much more than in the past. They are less dependent on the desires and whims of men. At the time of Balzac, it was difficult to think of something better than marriage; at the time of Roussen, this is still a question. In Philip Eria's Immaculate, a young girl turns to science to help her give birth to a child without the help of a man.

In fact, science is still powerless to fulfill this unusual desire, although biologists have already embarked on very strange and dangerous experiments. In his book Brave New World, Aldous Huxley tried to draw exactly how the offspring would be born in a hundred years. In this best of worlds, natural conception is ruled out. The surgeons remove the woman's ovaries, they are kept in a proper environment, and they still produce eggs that are fertilized by insemination. One ovary can give birth to sixteen thousand brothers and sisters - in groups of ninety-six twins.

Love? Attachment? Relationship romance? The rulers of the best of worlds have a deep contempt for this dilapidated rubbish. They feel sorry for the poor guys from the twentieth century, who had fathers, mothers, husbands, lovers. In their opinion, there is no wonder that the people of the past were insane, vicious and insignificant. Family, passions, rivalry led to collisions, to complexes. The unfortunate ancestors, willy-nilly, were deeply worried, and the constant acuteness of feelings prevented them from maintaining peace of mind. "Facelessness, Similarity, Equanimity" - this is the triune motto of the world where there is no love.

Fortunately, this is just a fantasy and humanity is not following this path. Humanity in general is changing much less than people think. It is like the sea: on the surface it boils and worries, but it is worth plunging into the abyss of human souls - and the invariability of the most important human feelings is evident.

What are our youth singing? Song of Prever and Cosmas: “When you think, when you think that your youth will last forever, oh girl, you are cruelly mistaken! ..” Where did this topic come from? From a poem by Ronsard, who is already four centuries old:

Taste youthful delights!

Do not expect joy in old age:

The beauty will fade like a flower. Ronsard. "Towards Cassandra".

Almost all the motives of the poets of the Pleiades, or, say, Musset, are still heard today; on their basis, it would be possible to compose many songs for every taste for Saint-Germain-des-Prés. Play this game: it's simple, fun, and good for you. Stranger dе mi alma My soul (Spanish)., you should decide on something. The arrogant secretary from Roussen's play ends up marrying her “victim,” and you are still a copy of your 16th century sisters. Farewell.

On the necessary measure of coquetry

“Slander, sir! You just do not understand what you decided to neglect, ”says one of the characters in The Barber of Seville. I am often tempted to say to a woman who is too trusting and direct in love: “Coquetry, madam! You just don’t understand what you are condescending to ”. Coquetry was and is an amazingly powerful and dangerous weapon. This set of clever tricks, so carefully studied by Marivaux, is to first captivate, then repulse, pretend to give something, and then immediately take away. The results of this game are amazing. And even knowing in advance about all these traps, you will still get caught.

If you think about it, this is quite natural. Without a slight flirtation, which gives rise to the first timid hope, most people do not wake up to love. "To love means to feel anxiety at the thought of a certain possibility, which then develops into a need, an insistent desire, an obsession." While it seems completely impossible for us to please such and such a man (or such and such a woman), we do not even think about him (or about her). You are not tormented because you are not the Queen of England. Every man finds that Greta Garbo and Michelle Morgan are extremely beautiful, and admires them, but it never occurs to him to be killed by love for them. For their countless fans, they are just images that live on the screen. And they do not promise any opportunities.

But if we only take at our own expense someone's gaze, smile, phrase, gesture, the imagination, against our will, already draws to us the possibilities hidden behind them. Has this woman given us a reason - albeit a little - to hope? From this moment on, we are already in the grip of doubt. And we ask ourselves: “Is she really interested in me? How will she love me? Incredible. And yet her behavior ... "In short, as Stendhal used to say, we" crystallize "at the thought of her, in other words, in our dreams we color her with all the colors, just as salt crystals in the Salzburg mines make all objects that are placed there shine.

Little by little, desire turns into an obsession, an obsession. For a coquette who wants to prolong this obsession and "drive a man crazy", it is enough to resort to the old human tactics: to run away, having made it clear before that she has nothing against persecution, to refuse, leaving, however, a glimmer of hope: "Perhaps , tomorrow I'll be yours. " And even then the unlucky men will follow her even to the ends of the world.

These tricks are reprehensible if the coquette uses them in order to unbalance numerous admirers. Such behavior will certainly make her be nervous and deceive, unless she is devilishly dexterous and manages, without yielding to anyone, not to offend the pride of men. But even the note coquette runs the risk of eventually exhausting the patience of its admirers. She, like Célimène at Moliere, chasing several hares at once, ultimately will not catch a single one.

Since you cannot be on the happy side,

How I found everything in you, find everything in me, -

Goodbye forever! Like a burdensome burden

With delight, I will finally throw off your chains. Moliere. Sobr. op. in four volumes. Moscow: Art, 1965. T. 2.P. 394.

On the contrary, coquetry is completely innocent and even necessary if its purpose is to maintain the affection of the man whom they love. In this case, the woman deep down does not feel any desire to flirt. "The greatest miracle of love is that it heals coquetry." A truly in love woman is pleased to surrender herself without looking back and pretense, often with sublime generosity. However, it happens that a woman is forced to slightly torment the one she loves, since he belongs to those men who cannot live without suffering and who are held back by doubt.

Then even a chaste, but in love woman is not ashamed to pretend to be a flirt, so as not to lose the affection of a man, just as a sister of mercy sometimes has to be ruthless in the interests of the patient. The injection is painful but healing. Jealousy is excruciating, but it strengthens the feeling. If you, my stranger, ever let me know you, don't be a flirt. Otherwise, I will certainly fall into the net, like everyone else. Farewell.

About the lady who knows everything

- How! Are you my neighbor, doctor?

“Yes, one of your two neighbors, madam.

- I am delighted, doctor; I haven't been able to have a quiet chat with you for a long time.

- I'm also very happy.

- I need to get a lot of advice from you, doctor ... Will this be a burden for you?

- To tell the truth, madam ...

- First of all, my insomnia ... Remember what kind of insomnia I have? But what do I see, doctor? Are you taking soup?

- Why not?

- You're out of your mind! There is nothing more harmful to health than the flow of liquid at the beginning of a meal ...

- Have mercy, madam ...

- Put aside this strong broth, doctor, I beg you, and let's study the menu together ... Salmon is good ... there are a lot of proteins in fish. Poulard too ... Well, well, we get the vitamin A we need with butter; vitamin C - with fruit ... There is no vitamin B at all ... What a shame! Don't you think so, doctor?

- No, and no trial.

- Tell me, doctor, how many calories do you need daily for a woman who, like me, leads an active lifestyle?

- I won't say exactly, madam ... It has absolutely no meaning.

- How does it make no difference? Perhaps you will also say that coal has no meaning for a steam locomotive, and gasoline for a car! .. I lead the same lifestyle as men, and I need three thousand calories, or I will wither.

"Are you counting them, madam?"

- Am I counting them! .. You seem to be joking, doctor? .. I always have a table with me ... ( Opens her purse.) Look, doctor ... Ham - one thousand seven hundred and fifty calories per kilogram ... Chicken - one thousand five hundred ... Milk - seven hundred ...

- Fine. But how do you know how much this chicken wing weighs?

- At home, I demand to weigh all portions. Here, at a party, I estimate by eye ... ( She lets out a scream.) Ah, doctor!

- What's the matter with you, madam?

- I beg you, stop! .. This is as unbearable as the grinding of a knife, as a false note, as ...

- What have I done, madam?

- Doctor, you mix proteins with carbohydrates ... Oh, doctor, stop! ..

- Eh! Just take me for a joke, I eat what is served to me ...

- You! A famous doctor! .. But you know very well, doctor, that the usual meal of an ordinary Frenchman - steak with potatoes - is the most dangerous poison you can cook!

- And nevertheless, the ordinary Frenchman is doing well ...

- Doctor, you are a real heretic ... I don't talk to you anymore ... (A little audible.) And who is my other neighbor? I heard his name, but he is unfamiliar to me.

“This is an important official from the Ministry of Finance, madam.

- Truth? How interesting! ( Turns energetically to the right.) How is our budget, sir? Have you already made ends meet?

- Ah, madam, have mercy ... I have been talking for a good eight hours today about the budget ... And I hoped that at least I would get a break at dinner.

- A respite! .. We will give it to you when you settle our affairs ... And it's so simple.

- So simple, madam?

- As simple as shelling pears ... Our budget is four trillion?

- Yes, something like this ...

- Excellent ... Cut all expenses by twenty percent ...

(The doctor and the financier, like accomplices, exchange a look full of despair behind the lady-know-it-all.)

You, my dear, have enough common sense not to know anything. This is why you are all guessing. Farewell.

About one young girl

“To conquer a man…” she says. - But a woman is not given to conquer. She is a passive being. She is waiting for tender confessions ... Or offensive words. It is not for her to take the initiative.

“You are describing appearance, not reality,” I argue. - Bernard Shaw wrote a long time ago that if a woman is waiting for tender confessions, it is just like a spider is waiting for a fly.

“A spider weaves a web,” she replies, “and what do you think the poor girl should do? She either likes it or not. If she does not like her, her pathetic efforts are not able to transform the feelings of a man. I think she would rather achieve the opposite: nothing annoys a young man so much as the claims of a girl to whom he is indifferent. A woman who imposes herself and takes the first step will achieve the man's contempt, but not his love.

“That would be true,” I say, “if a woman acted ineptly and it would be obvious that the initiative comes from her; but the art is precisely to take the first steps unnoticed. “She runs under the shade of weeping willows, but wants to be seen ...” Retreating, to lure the enemy - this is an old, proven military trick, it has served both girls and soldiers a lot.

“This is indeed a tried-and-true trick,” she agrees, “but if the enemy does not have the slightest desire to pursue me, my flight will lead nowhere, and I will remain alone in the shade of weeping willows.

“This is where you women should try to awaken in a man the desire to persecute you. A whole tactic has been developed for this, and you are familiar with it better than me. You need to allow him something, pretend that he is very interested in you, then suddenly "break everything" and decisively forbid him what he thought was firmly conquered yesterday. A contrast shower is a harsh shake-up, but under it both love and desire grow by leaps and bounds.

“It's easy for you to say,” she objects, “but such tactics presuppose, firstly, the composure of the one who brings the plan to fruition (how can you test a person whose voice makes you tremble?); secondly, it is necessary that the tested man has already begun to pay attention to us. Otherwise, roll a ball of thread as much as you want, the kitten refuses to play.

“I’ll never believe,” I say, “that a young and pretty girl cannot make a man pay attention to her; for a start it is enough to start talking about him. Most of the stronger sex boast of their specialty. Listen patiently to their rants about the profession and about themselves - this is enough for them to think you are smart and feel the desire to see you again.

- So, you need to be able to get bored?

- And how, - I confirm. - It goes without saying. Whether it concerns men or women, love or politics, the one who knows how to get bored will succeed in this world.

“Well, then I prefer not to succeed,” my interlocutor remarks.

- Me too, - I agree, - and, God knows, we will succeed in this.

Here's a conversation, querida Dear (Spanish)., happened to me yesterday with a young girl. That's that! You weren’t there, but you still need to live. Farewell.

About the male half of the human race

The other day I read an article in an American newspaper that would amuse you. In it, an American woman addresses her sisters, women. “Do you complain,” she writes, “that you cannot find a husband for yourself? Do you not possess that irresistible beauty, which Hollywood, alas, instilled in our men? Do you lead a secluded life, rarely in society? In a word, you almost do not know men, and those among whom your chosen one could be do not pay attention to you?

Let me give you some tips that have come in handy myself. I believe that you, like many of us, live in a small cottage; around - a lawn, nearby - other similar houses. There are undoubtedly several bachelors in your neighborhood.

- Well, of course! - you tell me. - Yes, only they do not care about me.

- So-so! This is where my first advice comes in. Attach a ladder to the wall of your house; climb onto the roof and start installing the television antenna. That's enough. Immediately, all the men living around you will rush to you, like hornets attracted by a pot of honey. Why? Because they adore technology, love to make something, because they all consider themselves skillful and skillful ... and most importantly, because it gives them great pleasure to show a woman their superiority.

- No! They will tell you. “You don’t know how to tackle this. Let me do ...

You, of course, agree and admire how they work. Here are your new friends, who are also grateful to you for giving them a chance to shine.

For mowing the lawn, - continues the American, - I have a roller with an electric motor; I can easily handle it, moving along the lawn. Until everything is in order, no man appears on the horizon. As soon as I want the neighbors to be interested in me, there is nothing easier - I disable the engine and pretend to be anxiously looking for the cause of the breakdown. Immediately to my right, one man appears, armed with pliers, and to the left another, with a box of tools in his hands. Here are our mechanics and the trap.

The same freeway game. Stop, lift up the hood of the car, and bend over, bewildered, over the candles. Other hornets, eager for praise, in their turn will stop and offer you their invaluable services. Keep in mind, however, that changing a wheel or inflating a tire is not fun for them. This work, although not tricky, is laborious and does not bode well. And for a man, the ruler of the world, the most important thing is to show his omnipotence in front of humble women. How many suitable suitors roll along the roads alone and, without knowing it, want only one thing - to find themselves a life partner like you - simple-minded, ignorant and ready to admire them! The road to the heart of a man is marked as landmarks by cars. "

I believe these tips are really helpful when it comes to Americans. Will they be as effective for the French? Probably not; but we have our vulnerabilities. We like to delight with speeches and sonorous phrases. Seeking professional advice from a financier, politician, scientist is one of the ways to conquer a man, and it is also designed for the ineradicable vanity of the male half of the human race. Skiing lessons, swimming lessons are excellent snares for male athletes.

Goethe once noticed that there is nothing more attractive than the activities of a young man with a girl: she likes to learn and teach him. This is true to this day. How many novels are made for translations from Latin or for solving a problem in physics, when the fluffy hair of a young student touches the cheek of her young mentor! Ask for a complex philosophical problem to be explained to you, listen to the explanation with a thoughtful look, turning your head in the way that suits you especially, then soulfully say that you have understood everything - who is able to resist this! In France, the way to a man's heart is through his mind. Will I find a way to your heart? Farewell.

About love and marriage in France

To better understand what are the views of the French and French women on love and marriage, one should first recall the history of tender feelings in our country. It is easy to find two currents in it.

The first, powerful current is sublime love. It was in France in the Middle Ages that courtly love was born. Worshiping a woman, wanting to please her, composing songs and poems (troubadours) or performing feats (knights) - these are integral features of the elite of French society of that time. No other literature attached such importance to love and passion.

However, along with this trend, there was a second, very widespread. Rabelais describes him. Carnal, sensual love appears here in close-up. At the same time, marriage is more likely not a question of feelings, but only a convenient form of living together, allowing you to raise children and look after mutual interests. In Moliere, for example, the husband is a slightly funny character, whom the wife, if she can, deceives and who himself seeks love affairs on the side.

In the 19th century, the rule of the wealthy bourgeoisie, who attached great importance to money and its inheritance, led to the fact that marriage turned into a deal, as can be seen from the books of Balzac. In such a marriage, love could be born later - in the course of life together - from the mutual obligations of the spouses, due to the similarity of temperaments, but this was not considered necessary. There were also successful marriages that arose on the basis of sober calculation. Parents and notaries negotiated the dowry and the terms of the marriage contract before the young people got to know each other.

Today we changed it all. The fortune no longer plays a decisive role in the choice of a life partner, since an educated wife, who serves, or a husband with a good profession, are valued incomparably more than a dowry, whose value can plummet. Lofty feelings, a craving for romantic love - a legacy of past centuries - have also lost their former power. Why? First, because a woman, having achieved equality, ceased to be an unattainable, mysterious deity for a man, but became a comrade; secondly, because young girls now know a lot about the physical side of love and look more correctly and sensibly at love and marriage.

This is not to say that boys and girls do not at all strive for love; but they are looking for her in a lasting marriage. They are wary of a passionate love marriage, because they know that passion is short-lived. In Moliere's time, marriage marked the end of love. Today he is just the beginning. The successful union of two is closer today than ever, for it is at the same time a union of flesh, soul and intellect. In Balzac's time, a husband in love with his wife was found funny. Today there is more depravity in the pages of novels than in life. The current world is not simple, life requires full commitment from both men and women, and therefore more and more marriage, sealed by friendship, mutual attraction and emotional attachment, seems to French women the best solution to the problem of love. Farewell.

On the relativity of misfortunes

The woman, to whom I am very attached, tore her velvet dress yesterday. The whole evening was a painful drama. First of all, she could not understand how this wide transverse gap had arisen. She admitted that the skirt was too narrow when walking ... And yet how cruel fate! After all, it was her most charming outfit, the last of those that she decided to order the famous tailor. The trouble was irreparable.

- Why not mend it?

- Oh, these men! They don't understand anything. After all, the seam will immediately catch your eye.

- Buy some black velvet and replace the full width strip.

- Well, what are you talking about! Two pieces of velvet of the same color are always at least slightly different in shade. The black velvet that has been worn takes on a greenish sheen. It will be terrible. All my friends will immediately notice everything, and there will be no end to gossip.

- Michelangelo knew how to benefit from the veins and cracks in the block of marble, which he received for sculpting. He turned these flaws in the material into an additional source of beauty. May this hole inspire you too. Get creative with a piece of a completely different fabric. They will think that you did it on purpose, and it will arouse admiration.

- What naivety! A detail that contradicts the whole will not offend the eye only if some trim of the same tone and style reminds of it elsewhere - on the cuffs of the jacket, on the collar or on the belt. But this lonely streak ... Ridiculousness! And how can I wear a darned dress?

In a word, I had to agree that the trouble is irreparable. And then the comforter gave way to the moralist.

- So be it! I exclaimed. “Indeed, a misfortune has happened. But agree at least that this is not the worst of troubles. Is your dress torn? Please accept the assurances of my deepest sympathy, but consider that you may have had your stomach gouged out or your face gouged out in a car accident; think about the fact that you could catch pneumonia or poisoning, but health is more important to you than clothes; think about the fact that you could lose not a velvet dress, but several friends at once; Finally, think about the fact that we are living in a terrible time, that a war may break out and then you can be detained, thrown into prison, exiled, killed, torn to pieces, incinerated. Remember that in 1940 you lost not some rags, but everything that you had, and you met this misfortune with courage that I still admire ...

- What are you driving at?

- Just to the fact that human life is difficult, velvet breaks, and people die, which is very sad, but one must understand that misfortunes can be of all kinds. "I will willingly take into my own hands the protection of their needs, - said Montaigne, - but I do not want these needs to sit in my liver or stand in my throat." He meant: “I, the mayor of Bordeaux, will willingly undertake to repair the damage caused to your treasury. But I don’t want to ruin my health by killing myself about this ”. These words also apply to your case. I will gladly pay for a new dress, but refuse to regard the loss as a national or universal disaster.

Do not turn the pyramid of sorrows upside down, oh my unfamiliar friend, and do not put on the same board a burnt pie, leaky stockings, persecution of innocent people and a civilization that is under threat. Farewell.

About childish impressionability

Adults too often live close to the children's world without trying to understand it. And the child, meanwhile, is intently observing the world of his parents; he tries to comprehend and appreciate it; phrases spoken inadvertently in the presence of the baby are picked up by him, interpreted in their own way and create a certain picture of the world that will remain in his imagination for a long time. One woman says to her eight-year-old son, "I am more of a wife than a mother." By doing this, unwittingly, she, perhaps, inflicts a wound on him, which will bleed almost all his life.

Exaggeration? I do not think. The child's pessimistic view of the world in childhood may change for the better in the future. But this process will proceed painfully and slowly. On the contrary, if the parents managed, at the time when the child's consciousness is still awakening, to instill in him faith in the gentleness and responsiveness of people, they thereby helped their sons or daughters grow up happy. Various events can then disappoint those who had a happy childhood, sooner or later they will face the tragic sides of being and the cruel sides of human nature. But against the expectation, the one whose childhood was serene and passed in an atmosphere of love and trust in others will better endure all sorts of adversity.

We utter phrases in front of children that we do not attach importance to, but they seem to them full of hidden meaning. One teacher once told me this story. She asked her little student: "Open the curtains, let the light appear in our room." She froze in indecision.

- I'm afraid…

- Are you afraid? And why?

“But you see… I read in the Holy Scriptures that as soon as Rachel gave Benjamin to be born, she died right there.

One boy constantly heard how they called the mantel clock "Marie Antoinette" in their house, and the furniture in the living room - "Louis the Sixteenth", and decided that this clock was called Marie Antoinette, just like his name is François. One can imagine what bizarre images will arise in his imagination when, in the very first lessons of French history, the names that denote household items for him are mixed with bloody and sad events.

How many unspoken fears, how many unimaginable concepts are swarming in children's heads! I remember that when I was about five or six years old, a theater troupe came to our town on tour, and posters with the title of the play "Divorce Surprises" were posted everywhere. I did not know then what the word "divorce" meant, but a vague premonition told me that this was one of those forbidden, attractive and dangerous words that lift the veil over the secrets of adults. And on the very day when this troupe arrived, the city hairdresser, in a fit of jealousy, fired several times from a revolver at his wife. They told about this case in my presence. How then did the connection between these two facts, so far from each other, arise in my childhood consciousness? I don’t remember exactly. But for a very long time I thought that divorce is such a crime when a husband kills his guilty wife, and that it is committed right in front of the audience on the stage of the theater in Pont de l'Ere.

Of course, even the most sensitive parents are unable to prevent the emergence of supernatural ideas and naive guesses in the heads of their children. It is known that life experience is not so easily transmitted, everyone learns the lessons of life on their own, but beware of at least giving your child dangerous food for the imagination. We will save our children from difficult experiences if we always remember that they have a heightened curiosity and are much more impressionable than us. This is a lesson for mothers. Farewell.

About the rules of the game

I don’t know if you sometimes listen to Saturday Talk on the radio. It involves Armand Salacrou, Roland Manuel, André Chamson, Claude Mauriac and yours truly. We talk about everything: about the theater, about book novelties, canvases by artists, concerts and about ourselves. In short, this is a real conversation, not rehearsed in advance, such as five friends could have over a cup of coffee. I myself get real pleasure from her and every time I gladly meet in front of the microphone with my interlocutors. Alain used to say that friendship often arises due to circumstances: in the lyceum, in the regiment; these indispensable meetings also made us friends.

The other day, Claude Mauriac put forward a thesis, in my opinion, correct. “Courtly love, described in knightly novels,” he said, “is a kind of game, the rules of which have not changed at all since the days of medieval treatises on love. They are the same in the works of the 17th century - in Astrea, and in The Princess of Cleves, and in the works of romantics, although they are expressed there with greater pathos; they also determine the actions and speeches of Swann in Marcel Proust. This tradition requires that lovers should be jealous not only of the body, but also of each other's thoughts; so that the slightest cloud on the forehead of the beloved awakens the alarm; so that every phrase of a loved one is carefully thought out, and every act is interpreted; so that at the very thought of treason, a person turns pale. Moliere made fun of this expression of emotion; Proust pitied the sufferers; however, for several centuries, both the writers and the reading public did not question the rules themselves. A new influence has emerged these days: young authors no longer accept the old rules of the game; this does not mean that they have lost interest in this topic, they just changed the set of rules. What kind of jealousy can we talk about when a woman's body is available for everyone to see on the beaches ... "

At this point I interrupted Mauriac to quote one of Victor Hugo's letters to his bride, which indeed could not have been written today. In this letter, he severely reproaches her for the fact that, fearing to get her dress dirty on the street, she slightly lifted it and involuntarily opened her ankle; this made Hugo so furious that he was able to kill a bystander who glanced at her snow-white stocking, or suicide himself. The rules of the game for young writers seem to be such that they completely exclude any jealousy and allow cynical talk about the amorous adventures of the one they love. All this is in no way compatible with the demands of courtly love. For this unique feeling, possible only “between two subscribers,” as the telephonists say, is the lot of only two.

In fact, in the second half of a modern novel, lovers tend to discover love for themselves. They seem to reluctantly recognize the charm of loyalty, the sweetness of affection and even the torment of jealousy. But more restrained than the heroes of the romantics and even of Proust, they talk about their feelings with pretended indifference and a certain amount of irony, in any case, this is how it looks in words. They treat Cupid with humor. This whimsical combination is not without its charm.

Is it new? I'm not too sure about that. The rules of the game, from Madame de Lafayette to Louise Vilmorin, have never been so strict. The Anglo-Saxons long ago abandoned the open expression of their most ardent feelings.

Along with the tradition of courtly love, you can find another, coming from the Renaissance. The love stories in the works of Benvenuto Cellini and even Ronsard do not look too romantic. Other heroes of Stendhal or (today) Montherland follow the rules of the Renaissance love game, not medieval treatises on love. These rules have changed quite often, they will change in the future. I expect a new "Adolf" and a new "Swann" from the current young writer. And I predict great success for him.

For if the rules of the game change, then the rate remains the same. This stake is you, my precious one. Farewell.

Ability to use funny traits

Have you noticed, stranger of my soul, that our shortcomings can be liked no less than our virtues? And sometimes even more? After all, virtues, elevating you, humiliate another, while shortcomings, allowing others to laugh without malice at you, raise them in their own eyes. A woman is forgiven for talkativeness - she is not forgiven for her being right. Byron left his wife, whom he called the "princess of parallelograms," because she was too shrewd and clever. The Greeks disliked Aristides precisely because everyone called him the Just.

In his work Seen Facts, Victor Hugo tells about a certain Mr. de Salvandi, whose political career was brilliant. He became a minister, academician, envoy, was awarded the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor. You will say: all this is not God only knows what; but he still enjoyed success with women, and this is already worth a lot. So, when this Salvandi first appeared in the light where Mrs. Gail introduced him, the famous Sophie Ge exclaimed: “But, dear, there is so much funny in your dear youth! We need to take care of his manners. " "God forbid! Cried Madame Gail. - Do not deprive him of its originality! What will he have then? After all, this is what will lead him to success ... ”The future has confirmed the correctness of Mrs. Gail.

Henri de Jouvenel once told me that in his youth, when he was a journalist, he was struck by the first steps in parliament of a Calvados deputy, a certain Henri Chiron. This Sharon had a big belly, a beard, and wore an old-fashioned frock coat; climbing on the table, he loudly sang the Marseillaise and made high-flown speeches. Clemenceau appointed him assistant minister of war, Sharon immediately began to go around the barracks and try the soldiers' food. The journalists made fun of him; Jouvenel thought it would be fun to write an article about him, and decided to see Sharon. He met him with a defiant look.

- I know, young man! He exclaimed. - You came to make sure that I am funny ... Well, how? Have you made sure? .. Yes, I'm funny ... But I'm funny on purpose, because - remember, young man - in this envious country to seem funny is the only safe way to become famous.

These words would have delighted Stendhal. But you don't have to seem funny, you probably yourself noticed that some quirks, original style of dressing bring a man or woman more fame than talent. Thousands of people who had never read André Gide in their lives were familiar with his Mexican felt hats and short cloak. Winston Churchill is a great orator, but he knew people well and very skillfully played with his outlandish hat, exorbitantly thick cigars, bow ties and fingers spread apart by the letter "V". I knew a certain French ambassador in London, who could not utter a word in English, but wore a polka-dot tie tied with a lush bow, which was extremely moved by the British. And he kept his post for a long time.

Watch out for people dining at the restaurant. Who will be best served, who will be courted by the head waiter? A positive person, happy with everything? Not at all. A customer with quirks. Being demanding means getting people interested. Moral: keep yourself naturally and, if it is in your nature, a little picturesque. You will be grateful for that. Farewell.

Do you do scenes for your husband and friends, madam? Although you have the appearance of Minerva, I would be extremely surprised if you do not resort to them. The stage is the woman's favorite weapon. It allows them at once, through a short emotional outburst full of indignation, to achieve what they would have been asking in vain for months and years in a calm state. However, they must adapt to the man they are dealing with.

There are such excitable men who get pleasure from quarrels and can surpass even a woman with their behavior. The same impetuosity shows through in their answers. Such quarrels are not complete without mutual rudeness. After the scandal, the intensity weakens, the soul of both becomes easier and reconciliation is quite gentle. I know quite a few women who are not afraid of beatings when arranging scenes. They even secretly crave them, but they never admit it. "Well, what if I like to be beaten?" - this is the key to this incomprehensible riddle. For women who value strength in a man, first of all, spiritual and physical, the slap in the face, which was thrown at them, only warms up the feeling.

- What an abomination! You exclaim. - A man who raised his hand against me would cease to exist for me.

You sincerely think so, but for complete confidence you need to test yourself. If your disgust is confirmed, it means that pride in you is stronger than sensuality.

A normal man hates scenes. They put him in a humiliating position, because at the same time he usually loses the initiative. And can a balanced spouse successfully resist the enraged pythia, which from its tripod unleashes a stream of abuse on him? Many men, as soon as a storm breaks out, prefer to retire or, having opened the newspaper, stop paying attention to what is happening.

It should be remembered that a stupidly played scene quickly gets boring.

The very word “scene” explains a lot to us. It is borrowed from the actors. In order to have an effect, it must be skillfully played. Having started with trifles, just because the accumulated irritation required an exit, the scene should gradually gain strength, feeding on all the painful memories, replenishing with long-standing grievances, filling everything around with sobs. Then - at the right moment - a turning point should occur: the moaning subsided, they were replaced by thoughtfulness and quiet sadness, the first smile has already appeared, and the crown of everything is an explosion of voluptuousness.

- But in order to act out the scene in this way, a woman must act according to a premeditated plan and control herself all the time ...

You are right, madam. There is nothing to be done - theater! A talented actress is constantly aware of what she says and does. The best scenes are those that are deliberately arranged and subtly acted out. Women are not alone in this art. Outstanding generals - Napoleon, Lyote - rarely fell into anger, only when they considered it necessary. But even then their rage crushed all obstacles! Lyotte, in a fit of anger, threw his marshal's cap to the ground and trampled on it. On such days, he said to his orderly in the morning:

- Give me my old cap.

Take an example from him. Save your resentment for important circumstances: be the shepherd of your tears. Scenes are only effective when they are rare. In countries where thunderstorms thunder almost every day, no one pays attention to them. I will not cite myself as an example. I am not irritating by nature, but I lose my temper once or twice a year when too outrageous injustice or absurdity deprives me of my usual calm. On days like this, everyone around me gives in. Surprise is one of the keys to victory. Fewer scenes, ma'am, but more brilliant! Farewell.

About the gold nail

You finally answered me! Oh, of course, without naming yourself. The stranger is still a stranger to me. But now at least your handwriting is familiar to me, and I like it. Straight, clear, legible letters - the handwriting of a decent person. And a decent woman? Perhaps! But in your letter you are asking me an unusual question.

“For five years now,” you write, “I have a gentle and intelligent friend. He visits me almost every day, advises what books to read, what to watch in the theater, in a word, fills my leisure in the most pleasant way. We never crossed the boundaries of friendship; I have no desire to become his mistress, but he achieves this, insists, simply torments me; he claims that there is more pride in me than passion, that he suffers unbearably, that he cannot go on like this any longer, and he will eventually stop seeing me. Should we succumb to this blackmail? The word is disgusting, but accurate, for he knows perfectly well that his friendship is necessary for me. Apparently, he does not value my friendship enough, since he achieves something else? .. "

I don’t know, madam, whether you have read the story The Golden Nail by Saint-Beuve. He wrote it to subdue a woman, in relation to whom he was in the same position as your friend is in relation to you. A charming young woman, slightly resembling Diana the huntress, who had no children, who looked younger than her years, doomed him to torment, refusing the last gift of love; he, by skillful arguments, strove to achieve such a longed-for favor. "To possess by the age of thirty-five or forty - even if only once - a woman whom you have known and loved for a long time is what I call to hammer in the golden nail of friendship together."

Sainte-Beuve believed that the tenderness fastened by this "golden nail" then persists throughout life more reliably than feelings based simply on gratitude, friendly affection or community of interests. In support of his opinion, he quoted the words of one excellent writer of the 18th century: “After an intimacy that lasted for a quarter of an hour, between two people who not even love love, but at least gravitate towards each other, there is such trust, such ease of communication, such tender attention to each other, which will not appear even after ten years of strong friendship. "

This problem of the "golden nail" now stands before you, madam. As far as I understand, your friend puts the question in the same way that Sainte-Beuve put it in the days of Sophie Loiret d'Arbuville; a man really experiences tantalum torment, faced with a coquette (perhaps not even aware of this), which incessantly promises him bliss, but leaves him hungry. And yet I don't believe in the golden nail. The first experience is rarely the most successful. So you need a whole board studded with nails like this.

In truth, if your friend had suffered as much as he claims, he would have overcome your resistance long ago. Women intuitively guess sensitive men with whom to stay on friendly terms. And although they themselves are somewhat surprised (one Englishwoman explained the essence of platonic love in this way: "She is trying to understand what he wants, but he does not want anything"), they are still quite happy and even abuse the situation. It is worth, however, a real lover appears - and goodbye to "friendly ghosts." From the very day that Chateaubriand got his way, Juliette Recamier belonged to him alone. For a long time she tried to keep the flowers of love intact, but later she became convinced that the fruits were also good. If you can, learn a useful lesson from this. The best oracles spoke in riddles. Farewell.

On the arrival of the lecturer

- Do you think this is it?

- Sure.

- In appearance, however, he does not look like a writer.

- He looks like a worried person ... He is looking for us ... Hello, dear master.

- A! Hello ... Are you Monsieur Bernard?

- He is. And this is my wife ... She still didn’t want to believe that you are you ... You seem older than in the photographs ... Did the trip tire you too much?

- Tired as a dog ... All day on the road ... Doubtful lunch ... In a word ... But I still have two whole hours before the start of the lecture, so I will have time to rest.

“Suppose you don’t have two hours… Before escorting you to the hotel, I would like to show you the hall… You will be pleased to see it.

- Really, no ... After all, it won't make him any better ...

- I am extremely upset, dear master, but we need to look there. I made an appointment with Mr. Blavsky, the owner of the cinema; he is waiting for us ... And Mr. Blavsky is an unusually touchy person ... Besides, dear master, it would be better if I explain something to you on the spot ... Our hall is large, but the acoustics in it are not very good ... You should speak very loudly and always stay near table, slightly turning to the left ...

- I hope at least that your stage is heated, I recently had the flu, and my doctor ...

- Unfortunately no. There is, of course, central heating, but it does not work ... However, when the hall is full, it heats up quickly ... Unfortunately, there won't be too many of us tonight.

- What, have sold few tickets?

- Very little, dear master ... Only twenty-five or thirty ... But do not worry; when I found out about this misfortune, I ordered that free admission tickets be sent out to schools and barracks so that the hall did not seem so empty.

- Is it always like this with you?

- Oh no, dear master, it happened that lectures were held with great success ... However, this evening Jacques Thibault is playing in the concert hall of the City Hall, and at the Municipal Theater they are performing Difficult Times performed by the Bare troupe touring here ... So the lecture, of course ...

- And you could not come to an agreement with the organizers of the concerts and with the director of the theater?

- Here, in some way, a question of politics, dear master ... You yourself know what local feuds are ... Anyway, we still would not have gathered a lot of public ... The topic of the lecture - "Stendhal's Novels" - attracts few people ... I would not like you upset, dear master, but you must agree ... No, in our places we like lectures on other topics, for example "Song in 1900" with listening to records or, say, "Love in Turkey" ... However, I have no doubt that everything will be fine and those who come will not regret it ... But for our society it is somewhat costly, because it is not rich.

Bernard Quene, the hero of the novel of the same name, having become the director of a textile factory, subordinates his life to concerns about production. His bride, unable to withstand the rivalry with the plant, breaks off the engagement.

André Maurois (1885-1967) is a classic of French literature of the 20th century, the author of many brilliant biographical works, novels and short stories. He traveled a lot and was happy to share his travel experiences with readers. The story about Holland is full of the most unexpected observations, curious excursions into the distant past, reflections on how the national character of the inhabitants of the Netherlands was formed.

The collection "For Piano Solo" (1960) is an invaluable collection of masterpieces of short prose by the great André Maurois, combining short stories created by the writer throughout his life. Laconic and succinctly, with truly Gallic humor - refined and evil - the author writes about human vices and weaknesses.
And at the same time, following the favorite principle of paradox, the writer finds in his soul a place for benevolence and sympathy for his heroes and heroines, eager to take the best places under the sun.

It is no exaggeration to say about A. Fleming, who discovered penicillin: he conquered not only disease, he conquered death. Few medical scientists have received such great historical fame.

A gripping biographical novel by André Maurois is dedicated to the life of the French writer Aurora Dudevant (1804-1876), whose works were published under the pseudonym Georges Sand. Her work was widely known to the Russian reader as far back as the century before last; Belinsky and Chernyshevsky gave him high marks.

André Maurois, a classic of French literature of the 20th century, author of the famous romanized biographies of Dumas, Balzac, Victor Hugo and others, is considered a true master of psychological prose.
For the first time in Russian, his novel "The Promised Land".

André Maurois, a classic of 20th century French literature, author of the famous romanized biographies of Dumas, Balzac, Victor Hugo, Shelley and Byron, is considered a true master of psychological prose. However, historical writings constitute a significant part of the writer's legacy.

André Maurois, a classic of French literature of the 20th century, author of the famous romanized biographies of Dumas, Balzac, Victor Hugo and others, is considered a true master of psychological prose. However, historical writings constitute a significant part of the writer's legacy. He owns a whole series of books on the history of England, USA, Germany, Holland.

André Maurois - Literary Portraits

TO THE READER
Reader, my faithful friend, my brother, you will find here several sketches about books that have given me joy all my life. I would like to hope that my choice matches yours. Not all great works will be analyzed here, but those that I have chosen seem to me to be great in some way.

French writer, classic of the biographical novel genre André Maurois; real name - Emil Erzog (Emil Herzog) was born on July 26, 1885 in the town of Elbeuf near Rouen. Maurois came from a wealthy Jewish family from Alsace who converted to Catholicism. After 1871, having received French citizenship, the family moved to Normandy. Father André Maurois owned a textile factory. Andre attended the gymnasium of Elbeuf and Rouen. A significant role in shaping Maurois's views on the world, society, and art was played by his school teacher Emile Chartier, a French philosopher, moralist and writer known as Alain.

In 1897 Maurois entered the Corneille Lyceum in Rouen, after which he entered the University of Cannes. At the same time, he began working at his father's factory, where from 1903 to 1911. served as an administrator.

During the First World War, André Maurois was a liaison officer with the command of the British forces in France and served as a military translator for the British Expeditionary Force. War experiences served as material for the first novels by Maurois "The Silent Colonel Bramble", 1918 and "The Talkative Doctor O'Grady." After the death of his father in 1925, Maurois sold the factory and devoted himself entirely to literary creation. In the 1920s-1930s. André Maurois created a trilogy from the life of English romantics: "Ariel, or the Life of Shelley", "The Life of Disraeli" and "Byron", which was later published under the general title "Romantic England", and released several novels: "Bernard Quene", "Vicissitudes love "," Family circle ".

In 1938 André Maurois was elected a member of the French Academy.

When the Second World War began, the writer volunteered for the active army, and after the occupation of France by German troops, he emigrated to the United States. Taught at the University of Kansas. In 1943 he served with the allied forces in North Africa. In 1946 Maurois returned to France.

Maurois had a close bond of friendship with the pilot and writer Antoine Saint-Exupery. In the fall of 1939, both left the Ministry of Information to serve in the army. Fate brought them together again in emigration to the United States, then in Algeria liberated from the Germans.

After returning to his homeland, Maurois published collections of short stories, the book "In Search of Marcel Proust" (A la recherche de Marcel Proust, 1949).

The creative heritage of Maurois is truly enormous - 200 books, more than a thousand articles. Among his works are psychological novels and stories, fantastic novellas and travel essays, biographies of great people and literary portraits, historical works and philosophical essays - "Feelings and Customs", "Paul Verlaine. Caliban, who was Ariel", popular science works - "History of England" and "History of France".

In the early 50s. XX century. published the edition of the collected works of André Maurois in 16 volumes.

French writers are dedicated to literary portraits, which made up four books by André Maurois: "From La Bruyere to Proust" (1964), "From Proust to Camus" (1963), "From Gide to Sartre" (1965), "From Aragon to Montherlant" (1967) ).

In 1956, in Paris, the publishing house La Genes Parc published Letters to a Stranger. They appeared in Russian in 1974 in an abridged form in the journal "Foreign Literature".

But, above all, Maurois is a master of the biographical genre, where, on the basis of accurate documentation, he draws living images of great people. He won worldwide fame with his biographical works "Byron" (1930), "Turgenev" (1931), "Lelia, or the Life of George Sand" (Lelia ou la Vie de George Sand, 1952), "Olympio, or the Life of Victor Hugo", " Three Dumas "," The Life of Alexander Fleming "(1959).

In the year of his 80th birthday, Maurois wrote his last biographical work "Prometheus, or the Life of Balzac".

In 1970, a book by André Maurois "Memoirs" was published in France, in which the writer spoke about his life, about his meetings with such great contemporaries as Roosevelt and Churchill, de Gaulle and Clemenceau, Kipling and Saint-Exupery.

Many of the writer's works have been translated into Russian, including The Vicissitudes of Love, The Family Circle, The Life of Alexander Fleming, The Career of Disraeli, Byron, Olympio, or The Life of Victor Hugo, The Three Dumas, "Prometheus, or the Life of Balzac" and others.

In the sixties, Maurois readily appeared in the pages of the Soviet press. He established friendly relations with Soviet writers.

Maurois was a member of a number of public organizations, collaborated in democratic publications. He signed protests of cultural figures against the arrests of Mexican artist David Siqueiros, Greek poet Yannis Ritsos.

André Maurois has been married twice. After the death of his first wife, Janina de Szimkievik, he married Simone de Caive, niece of Marcel Proust.