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Dear friend | Dear friend | ||
Your letter<ref name="n2" /> does not persuade me at all and what saddens me more is that mine (you are undoubtedly speaking of the letter before last<ref name="n3" /> because I do not see what in the last<ref name="n4" /> could have had this effect, nor indeed, I must say, in the one before last) disheartens you. I | Your letter<ref name="n2" /> does not persuade me at all and what saddens me more is that mine (you are undoubtedly speaking of the letter before last<ref name="n3" /> because I do not see what in the last<ref name="n4" /> could have had this effect, nor indeed, I must say, in the one before last) "disheartens" you. All I want is for you to be happy and hence it is me who is disheartened. You are playing with words when you say that you are a publisher, not a printer <ref name="n5" />. Because one of the principal duties of a publisher is the printing of his books. You have been a theatre director in America and I think that it is to that, much more than to the distinction that you make between printer and publisher, that I owe the most botched publication of l’Ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs imaginable. Let us admit for an instant that all the faults are mine, there are proofreaders for a reason. You tell me that you have been from printer to printer, I thank you for it and that is an embarrassment to me, but after all that it has just meant going back to the same one, since it is the same name that was given to me in December when we left Semeuse<ref name="n6" />. He may well have admirable qualities, but I beg you to keep a copy of the pages that he has extracted from À l’Ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs for the Nouvelle Revue Française. We will read them one evening together one evening at the Ritz or at mine and you will see what a miracle worker he is. Grant me this pleasure and I promise you a real “stupefaction”<ref name="n7" />. My dear friend and publisher, you seem to reproach me for my editing techniques<ref name="n8" />. I realise that they complicate everything (not in the case of the Revue, at any rate!). But when you asked me to leave Grasset to come to you, you knew this, because you came with Copeau, who before Grasset’s redrafted proof, exclaimed, “But this is a new book!” I am apologising to you in two ways, the first by saying that all moral quality requires material change. As you have the goodness to find richness that appeals to you in my writing, you can recognise that it is precisely due to this overindulgence that I reinfuse it by living, which physically translates into these additions. You can also recognise that, just as you gave me a great demonstration of friendship in asking me for my books, it is also in friendship that I gave them to you. When I sent you the Swann manuscript and you refused it, it may have been to my advantage that the brilliance of your publishing house added a little lustre to my book. Since it appeared in Grasset’s publishing house, I don’t know how, but it managed to get lots of supporters, so much so that I could publish the following parts through Grasset without fearing that they would go unnoticed. I did as I was told by taking them away from him and leaving them with you, out of a feeling of friendship, as did you. Alas, you left, I haven’t stopped receiving books from the others (for there are publishers that have printers, you would believe it if you saw the pile of uncut works I have received which are in my bedroom) but no page proofs. I think that they will arrive. I no longer have the same strength and that is maybe why I, in turn, will be a bit slow. Provided that everything will be published in my lifetime, that would be good, and if things were to turn out<ref name="n9" /> differently, I have left all my notebooks numbered for you to take, and I count on you to publish them in their entirety<ref name="n10" />. I have not yet reached the other points of your letter. But fatigue stops me, and I leave you with a handshake. | ||
Affectionately | Affectionately | ||
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Marcel Proust | Marcel Proust | ||
I have still not received | I have still not received my royalties from Grasset. I’m counting on you. | ||
The moment when this letter should have left, I received a charming word from Grasset asking me to give him | The moment when this letter should have left, I received a charming word from Grasset asking me to give him a first extract from my book for a literary review with a circulation of 200,000 copies that he founded with Jean Dupuy. I am going to tell him that it is impossible, since my book will be published shortly<ref name="n11" />. As a matter of fact, I found June to be a detestable month, but it is better not to delay another day. | ||
<ref name="n12" /> <ref name="n13" /> | <ref name="n12" /> <ref name="n13" /> | ||
Revision as of 17:45, 2 October 2022
Marcel Proust to Gaston Gallimard [21 or 22 May 1919]
(Click on the link above to see this letter and its notes in the Corr-Proust digital edition, including all relevant hyperlinks.)
Dear friend
Your letter[2] does not persuade me at all and what saddens me more is that mine (you are undoubtedly speaking of the letter before last[3] because I do not see what in the last[4] could have had this effect, nor indeed, I must say, in the one before last) "disheartens" you. All I want is for you to be happy and hence it is me who is disheartened. You are playing with words when you say that you are a publisher, not a printer [5]. Because one of the principal duties of a publisher is the printing of his books. You have been a theatre director in America and I think that it is to that, much more than to the distinction that you make between printer and publisher, that I owe the most botched publication of l’Ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs imaginable. Let us admit for an instant that all the faults are mine, there are proofreaders for a reason. You tell me that you have been from printer to printer, I thank you for it and that is an embarrassment to me, but after all that it has just meant going back to the same one, since it is the same name that was given to me in December when we left Semeuse[6]. He may well have admirable qualities, but I beg you to keep a copy of the pages that he has extracted from À l’Ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs for the Nouvelle Revue Française. We will read them one evening together one evening at the Ritz or at mine and you will see what a miracle worker he is. Grant me this pleasure and I promise you a real “stupefaction”[7]. My dear friend and publisher, you seem to reproach me for my editing techniques[8]. I realise that they complicate everything (not in the case of the Revue, at any rate!). But when you asked me to leave Grasset to come to you, you knew this, because you came with Copeau, who before Grasset’s redrafted proof, exclaimed, “But this is a new book!” I am apologising to you in two ways, the first by saying that all moral quality requires material change. As you have the goodness to find richness that appeals to you in my writing, you can recognise that it is precisely due to this overindulgence that I reinfuse it by living, which physically translates into these additions. You can also recognise that, just as you gave me a great demonstration of friendship in asking me for my books, it is also in friendship that I gave them to you. When I sent you the Swann manuscript and you refused it, it may have been to my advantage that the brilliance of your publishing house added a little lustre to my book. Since it appeared in Grasset’s publishing house, I don’t know how, but it managed to get lots of supporters, so much so that I could publish the following parts through Grasset without fearing that they would go unnoticed. I did as I was told by taking them away from him and leaving them with you, out of a feeling of friendship, as did you. Alas, you left, I haven’t stopped receiving books from the others (for there are publishers that have printers, you would believe it if you saw the pile of uncut works I have received which are in my bedroom) but no page proofs. I think that they will arrive. I no longer have the same strength and that is maybe why I, in turn, will be a bit slow. Provided that everything will be published in my lifetime, that would be good, and if things were to turn out[9] differently, I have left all my notebooks numbered for you to take, and I count on you to publish them in their entirety[10]. I have not yet reached the other points of your letter. But fatigue stops me, and I leave you with a handshake.
Affectionately
Marcel Proust
I have still not received my royalties from Grasset. I’m counting on you.
The moment when this letter should have left, I received a charming word from Grasset asking me to give him a first extract from my book for a literary review with a circulation of 200,000 copies that he founded with Jean Dupuy. I am going to tell him that it is impossible, since my book will be published shortly[11]. As a matter of fact, I found June to be a detestable month, but it is better not to delay another day.
Notes
- ↑ Note 1
- ↑ Note 2
- ↑ Note 3
- ↑ Note 4
- ↑ Note 5
- ↑ Note 6
- ↑ Note 7
- ↑ Note 8
- ↑ Note 9
- ↑ Note 10
- ↑ Note 11
- ↑ Translation notes: The translation of stupéfaction as "stupefaction" in quotation marks aims to capture what may have been a very deliberate word choice in the original, given the foolishness of the incident to which Proust refers immediately before.
- ↑ Contributors: Fduncan, Cblackburn, Erichards, Shoei, Francesca, Georgiat, Adirubbo, Jasonmcbride, Chiarawilliams, Ecarapetis