My little one, I was amazingly pleased to get your letter. I think the absence of your article will be catastrophic for the journal, but I do understand how you weren’t able to write anything on that boat. Really, you’re a horrible termite, a lobster, an absurd insect! Have you at least written to J. Audry? You really must, otherwise you’re an ugly brute — don’t forget to do it!
I’ve also read a well-disposed article on you by M. Andre Levy in Elle; and I’ve seen a few items, and a few cartoons and photos, on you and me. But nothing of significance.
Did you know I’m really rather famous too? The good lady from the Ideal-Sport asked Kos.: ‘Is she very well known, that Mile de Beauvoir? Customers keep coming and asking me if that’s really her. It’s the same as with M. Salacrou . . .’
You should know that Rouleau no longer controls the Oeuvre. Beer351 has won his lawsuit, and has already asked me whether I have any manuscripts by you or by me. Moreover, Vitold told me on the telephone that he’d started negotiations with Beer — I’m seeing him shortly (Vitold) and then I’ll have more details. I think it’s going to work out. I’ll tell you in a P.S.
Do you know what Badel did? As Vilar352 didn’t want Murder353 to be revived in place of Voices, Badel revived it without mentioning the producer. Vilar sued him for theft of his production. And Rouleau has promised to give Badel the production of The Petrified Forest.354
No Exit355 has been sold to an Italian cinema company — a cheque awaits you. There wasn’t much mail for you, and not much of interest.
I’ll call in at the journal shortly and give you any news.
19 January
I haven’t seen Beer yet — I’m seeing him this evening. Apparently he likes the play and is especially impressed by Vitold, who’s recommending it to him. Rouleau doesn’t like it, finding it ‘impossible to act’. I’ll tell you the result of the interview this evening. I spent the day at the journal. Things are going all right — Merleau-Ponty has been incredibly energetic and we’ve got lots of texts. Literature’s beginning to be in rather short supply, and after No. 7 we’ll have to take stock, but documents and reports are flooding in. We’ve finally received the ‘St Just’, and an article by Paulhan on language, the article on Russian criticism, etc. You’ve got some quite amusing mail at the journal, and so have I. I answered the most urgent things and am keeping everything carefully.
My first day in Paris made a strange impression on me. I saw Vitold, who was angelically nice and so happy to see me that I felt quite touched. I’m having lunch with him this morning — he has broken with Loleh, or rather she has with him, and he’s quite distraught. I saw Sorokine, who was very sweet and looking well. She’ll go off at the beginning of February if I can find 40,000 F. between now and Monday (I’ve lent Bost 40,000, and although you have a pile of cheques, they’re impossible to cash in your absence). So I’m looking for the 40,000 F. — and I’ll find them, because she really wants to leave and I want her to leave too (she’ll pay it back from America anyway, since Moffat earns lots of money; he simply can’t send any that quickly). I briefly saw Leiris and the good sculptor,356 Scipion,357 Astruc,358 and above all Merleau- Ponty at length at the journal — which I left carrying a huge pile of manuscripts that I’ve conscientiously read and filed this morning. I’ll do the page make-up of No. 5 before I leave, and No. 6 when I get back. I’ve been caught up again somewhat by the journal, your play, and the spirit of enterprise — but I’m simultaneously thinking of leaving in three days’ time. I don’t feel settled. I’d really like to live like that: 4 or 5 days a month of fast work and seeing people in Paris, then rest and withdrawal and real work.
I’ve just caught sight of Claude Roy:359 apparently he’s becoming an existentialist and his wife is reading Being and Nothingness admiringly.
Evening
I’ve just seen Beer. Things aren’t going well, because Rouleau’s a swine. To annoy Beer — and probably Vitold too — because he’s angry that you haven’t entrusted the production to him (I presume), he’s against Beer putting the play on. And as he still has rights over the theatre (the lawsuit hasn’t been completely settled yet, and there’s a sequestration order or something), nothing can be done against him. He finds the play too hard. Beer says he might perhaps give way if the torture scene was cut out, but even that’s not certain. Now, it’s possible that in a month Beer will have won his lawsuit, and then he’ll take the play at once — he’s delighted with the play and at working with Vitold. It’s also possible that if you yourself see Rouleau, he won’t dare prevent you from being staged at the Oeuvre. But what’s a pity is the fact that, in the absence of a firm reply, Cuny’s going to agree to act in Of Mice and Men360 for Hébertot in April — in other words, drop your play. Moreover, everyone tells me Bernstein won’t let you have the Ambassa-deurs; and Nagel hasn’t found a theatre — the St Georges isn’t available. The only thing left to do is await your return and try to persuade Rouleau. I’m sorry it isn’t working out better. Old Beer seems very nice, and is opening the doors of his theatre to me, since he liked Useless Mouths a lot.361 I worked on the journal with Merleau-Ponty — it really does seem to be going well.
Here’s a little cartoon that Pascal gave me proudly this morning. It’s still going on, as you can see.
I learn that you gave a lecture in New York which made a big splash.
I’d like to know more about it.
Goodbye, little best beloved. Write to me. I feel very close to you in all these activities, and each is a little act of love. I kiss and hug you, and hug you . . .
Your charming Beaver
[Paris]
Thursday 25 January [1946]
Most dear little one, my love
No letter from you! I can’t believe that you can be such a bad little one, you who are such a nice yourself, and I hope to find something at Tunis — I’ll rush to the post office tomorrow. I’m writing this with jubilation, since I’m beginning to believe I really am leaving this evening. There have been a whole load of setbacks — plane cancelled, papers lost, etc. — but finally I have to take the train to Marseilles at 7, get off at Pas-des-Lanciers, and embark on a civilian plane — which is pleasanter and less dangerous than the military ones. I’ll stay there for a month even if you come back earlier, because I do after all want to take advantage of this trip. Good things are happening to me. Useless Mouths is being staged in Prague in May, and I’m going to be invited there; given the friendship the Czechs have for us, I hope we’ll go together. And then the Alliance Française has promised to send me to America and Mexico for at least three months, as soon as October comes. My heart beats faster at the thought. What’s more we’ve just had 300,000 F. out of the blue — Nagel has sold No Exit to an Italian firm. It’s better not even to think of the taxes you’ll have to pay on it, but I managed at least to extract the 50,000 F. I needed to put aside in case Sorokine leaves. That doesn’t seem really to be working out, but she’s gentle and nice and she’s blooming — as is the child.
Regarding yourself, you can’t imagine the exertions I’m making. I’ve seen Beer three times, and Cuny too. Yesterday I saw Beer with Vitold: he was no longer talking about Rouleau’s opposition (he’s an old liar, and none too nice himself), and was willing to stage the play. If he does so, however, it would have to be put on in April, which would make it necessary to begin rehearsals at the beginning of February. But Vitold can’t work for more than ten days without you, so that your return is necessary by 15 February at the latest. And just when that seemed more or less fixed — a coup de théâtre! He comes out with the name of an actress he has in mind for the role of Lucie (though he’d been told about Wanda). We argued, and now the matter’s pending, and I don’t know whether he’ll accept it with Wanda or whether he’ll refuse. Hébertot suggests putting on the play, but alternating it with Of Mice and Men — which is unacceptable. Another problem is that Vitold probably won’t be free to act in April, because of Karamazov. All in all, it’s hardly possib
le to decide anything before your return. I think that in September you could place the play at will, but with April there are a great many problems. Chauffard362 has read it and finds it excellent. Like Bost, Lefèvre-Pontalis and myself, however, he finds that the relationship to the Cause — the fine balance between the gratuitous and the objective — is not brought out properly, either at the beginning or in the final scene (which Vitold also thinks doesn’t quite come off, and I think that’s true). Chauffard thinks it will cause a scandal. At all events, it’s important that you should have weighed up carefully the meaning of any such scandal, so that it isn’t based on misunderstandings. Vitold is also afraid that the choice of Caussimon may accentuate the Grand Guignol aspect:363 he’d like the militiamen to have perfectly normal faces — which strikes me as correct. Judging by such conversation as I’ve had with Cuny, he struck me as a prize booby, and thoroughly disagreeable in his solemn pretentiousness.
Long and very funny article by Scipion in Action about the Flore — the waiters are very agitated. Features on existentialism pretty well everywhere. Always photographs, interviews, and so on. I refuse everything, but one American journalist did nevertheless take my photo just now in the Flore.
The 4th issue of T.M. is finally printed, but not yet distributed. I think No.s 5 and 6 will be very good. Merleau-Ponty has asked me for an editorial for 6, and I’ve done a little article — definitely more interesting than my lecture — on ‘Metaphysics and the Novel’364; but it’s not finished and I’ll have to complete it in Tunis. I’ve had a lot of trouble with that Gorrély, from whom you’d imprudently commissioned a huge article on Russian literature (objective criticism). He has handed me 50 pages devoid of interest and is promising another 50. I refused as best I could, by saying it was necessary to wait for your return before a decision could be made. You’ll have to sort things out yourself — he was already furious. Apart from that, we’ve lots of good texts — it’s going fine. Kanapa has done an article in which he attacks you on the plane of philosophy of history. Actually, it’s mainly me he’s attacking, and in Tunis I want to write a long article about an ethics of finitude: about action and finitude, against their myth of the future and progress. I’ve recovered a great deal of intellectual vivacity since I’ve been here. It’s funny — it’ll all probably melt away again in the sun. But I’m glad to be leaving. Paris exudes the most unbearable tedium. It’s not light till 9, and there’s no electricity; all the bars close at 10; the people are dismal; and it’s cold. When I get back, you’ll be there and that will change everything — but at least I shan’t have spent this month here.
Now that I’m leaving, I actually find that this week in Paris hasn’t been unpleasant. Unfortunately, I’ve barely seen Camus. I did see the Sculptor, dejected because Isabelle has run off with Leibowitz (!),365 who has cleared out the family coffers. Saw the Leirises, sweet but boring. Maheu, very affectionate and nice, who has again promised some articles. Above all I’ve seen Merleau-Ponty, because we were working together at the journal. I spent one gloomy evening with Bienenfeld. She’s having herself psychoanalysed by Paule, and says that it’s horribly unpleasant, which proves that it’s pretty serious. She was furious because I hadn’t written to her from Megève (partly because, in the constant belief that I was going back next day, I wasn’t writing to anyone). She was very hostile, and attacked you with malevolent, stupid vehemence. I think she’s going to join the Communist Party, and that’s the best thing for her to do.
There was a reading of Tzara’s La Fuite at the Vieux Colombier. Done before an audience of ‘Seated Ones’366 all wearing decorations, it was a disaster: deathly boredom and sniggers. I didn’t go, naturally — but Giacometti told me all about it. Even Leiris was shaken by it, and thought the play was bad. I congratulated myself on my firmness of judgement, and find the end of the Leiris episode pretty juicy.367
My little one, write to me at Tunis poste restante. I’ll get the letters forwarded on. And cable me as soon as you know more or less the date of your return. I’ll make my arrangements accordingly. If you return before me, remember that Bost owes us 40,000 F. and M. Ponty 10,000, and Nagel’s holding 250,000 F. at your disposition — and that’s not counting a cheque at your mother’s and another at Zette’s.368 You won’t be poor. Try to keep a long time reserved for me at the beginning of March — I’d so like to be alone with you, either at La Pouèze or anywhere else. I’m always anxious, even before trips I enjoy — I wouldn’t like life to separate us. My dear love, my sweet little one, do whatever you think best — bearing in mind how much I love you. I kiss you most passionately — I’ll write from Tunis.
Your charming Beaver
[Tunis]
13 February [1946]
Most dear little being
No letter at Tunis. I know nothing of you since you set foot in America. I don’t hold it against you, since 15 years’ experience have taught me that you’re an unblemished marvel and always do whatever’s best — there must have been hitches and some misunderstanding. But it was a little black spot, the only one on this journey. For my own part I haven’t written, since I didn’t know where to reach you. This is just a brief note in case you return to Paris before me. First, you should know that I’m thinking of you with love. I have plenty of time for thinking and always contemplate your little image with the same joy. After that, you should know that I’ll be in Paris on the 25th. If there’s a delay of a day or two, I’ll cable. I’ll be returning by plane from Algiers, almost certainly. Arrange things cleverly so that I can get my hands on you as soon as I arrive, since I’ll be dying of impatience. Also I hope to find a letter or telegram at Algiers (poste restante) when I get there on 22 or 23 February — otherwise I’ll be in a state during the last days of my stay, and my return will be spoilt. Make me some little sign quickly. My love, I’ll have a million things to tell you, particularly about the wild success of existentialism — people fought with their bare hands to get into my lectures. I’ve had a splendid trip. I was entranced by the plane,369 and the people who received me at Tunis were really very nice.
I was able to see lots of very beautiful things. And now here I am on the edge of the desert and I have ten days ahead of me before getting back to Algiers, in which to traipse around the Algerian South. I’m in absolute seventh heaven. Only I’m a bit distraught every night to feel that I’m cut off from you. A swift word, my dear little one, my love. Don’t forget me. Don’t forget how passionately I love you. I kiss you with all my might — and for a long, long time.
Your charming Beaver
Footnotes
309One of Sartre’s companions in captivity, whom they went to visit in the summer of 1941 (see The Prime of Life, p.490).
310She was moving from the squalid Hôtel d’Aubusson in Rue Dauphine to the Hôtel de la Louisiane in Rue de Seine, where she was to remain until she obtained her first real apartment in Rue de la Bucherie, in October 1948.
311The Flies had had its premiere in June 1943.
312Camus’s The Stranger had been published in 1942, Sartre’s Nausea in 1938.
313William Saroyan (1908-81) had published a number of short story collections by this date, including The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze in 1934, and My Name is Aram in 1940.
314In the summer of 1942 (see The Prime of Life, p.521).
315A distant relation of Bost.
316After her removal from the roll of the University, which meant automatic dismissal from her teaching post, in June 1943 (as the result of being accused by Sorokine’s mother of corruption of a minor, in revenge for her refusal to help break Sorokine’s relationship with Bourla — see note 318 below), De Beauvoir began working for radio as a features producer, making a series of programmes reconstructing traditional festivals from the Middle Ages to the present (see The Prime of Life, p.540).
31701ga had played the part of Electra in Dullin’s production of The Flies at the Theatre Sarah Bernhardt: see The Prime of Life, pp.538-9.
&nb
sp; 318Bourla was a young Spanish Jew, a former pupil of Sartre’s at the Lycée Pasteur, who had been living with Sorokine since 1942. He was arrested and killed by the Nazis in the spring of 1944 (see The Prime of Life, pp.528 and 577-8).
319Pierre Naville (1904- ), sociologist and political writer, had published his Paul Thiry d’Holbach et la Philosophie Scientifique au XVIIIe Stècle in 1943.
320Written between 1941 and 1943, De Beauvoir’s novel was to be published only in 1945 when wartime censorship ended.
321From 27 February until the beginning of April in this same year of 1945, De Beauvoir had visited Spain and Portugal, from where she had brought presents for all those near and dear to her. Relatively untouched by the War, Portugal (where Poupette and Lionel were living) struck her as a land of plenty: see Force of Circumstance, pp.25-8.
322Manager of the Vieux Colombier theatre, who had promised to stage De Beauvoir’s Useless Mouths. In the event this plan fell through, and the play was put on at the Theatre des Carrefours in November 1945, in Michel Vitold’s production.
323On a bicycle trip in the summer of 1942.
324Sartre’s mother often took the waters at Vichy.
325Sartre was on holiday there with his mother — who had been a widow since winter.
326De Beauvoir was here going by Sartre’s own account of Washington, which he had visited during a first trip to the United States with a group of French journalists in January 1945.
Letters to Sartre Page 53
