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Dear Sir, | Dear Sir, | ||
It is not, I swear, a | It is not, I swear, any weakening of a gratitude that grows stronger each day, if I did not write to you straight away. Already embarrassed that you would, despite my entreaties, bother to write to me, while you are overworking yourself making ready for victories and while your correspondents expect from you not merely the general's "brevitas" but his "silentium"<ref name="n2" />, every day I believed that, come the next, I would be in a fit state to visit you. But my asthma attack has lasted longer than I could have imagined. I think I will be in a state to chat with you for a few seconds one day or another. It will be soon enough for what I have to ask you, but not soon enough to express my gratitude. It saddened me to have kept silent up until this moment and that is why I am writing to you. You may know that your student, my brother, is not unworthy of such a mentor<ref name="n3" />. His nurses wrote to their president<ref name="n4" /> that he has earned the admiration of all, by his courage and his composure. Alas, when they say courage (they even wrote “heroism”) they mean danger faced<ref name="n5" />. And the news of the possible besieging of Verdun does nothing to lessen my anxiety<ref name="n6" />. But it is already too much to talk about it, since right now there is not a single Frenchman who does not have to fear for the lives of his dear ones and take pride in the lives offered in sacrifice. One last word, my dear Sir, it is of course as a patient that you allow me to come to you (thus you will be doing me a double service otherwise I would not dare ask). That will not deprive me in any way of the sweetness of being called “friend,” and that leaves things clear of any scruples I might feel. The terms “patient” and “friend” are not entirely incompatible. You know better than anyone by which noble methods such contradictions may be resolved, you who have so well set apart then reconciled “master” and “equal” in your response to the Court<ref name="n7" />. | ||
Please accept, dear sir, | Please accept, dear sir, my most respectful and grateful regards. | ||
Marcel Proust | Marcel Proust | ||
Revision as of 07:42, 30 September 2021
Marcel Proust to Samuel Pozzi [14 or 15 October 1914]
(Click on the link above to see this letter and its notes in the Corr-Proust digital edition, including all relevant hyperlinks.)
Dear Sir,
It is not, I swear, any weakening of a gratitude that grows stronger each day, if I did not write to you straight away. Already embarrassed that you would, despite my entreaties, bother to write to me, while you are overworking yourself making ready for victories and while your correspondents expect from you not merely the general's "brevitas" but his "silentium"[2], every day I believed that, come the next, I would be in a fit state to visit you. But my asthma attack has lasted longer than I could have imagined. I think I will be in a state to chat with you for a few seconds one day or another. It will be soon enough for what I have to ask you, but not soon enough to express my gratitude. It saddened me to have kept silent up until this moment and that is why I am writing to you. You may know that your student, my brother, is not unworthy of such a mentor[3]. His nurses wrote to their president[4] that he has earned the admiration of all, by his courage and his composure. Alas, when they say courage (they even wrote “heroism”) they mean danger faced[5]. And the news of the possible besieging of Verdun does nothing to lessen my anxiety[6]. But it is already too much to talk about it, since right now there is not a single Frenchman who does not have to fear for the lives of his dear ones and take pride in the lives offered in sacrifice. One last word, my dear Sir, it is of course as a patient that you allow me to come to you (thus you will be doing me a double service otherwise I would not dare ask). That will not deprive me in any way of the sweetness of being called “friend,” and that leaves things clear of any scruples I might feel. The terms “patient” and “friend” are not entirely incompatible. You know better than anyone by which noble methods such contradictions may be resolved, you who have so well set apart then reconciled “master” and “equal” in your response to the Court[7].
Please accept, dear sir, my most respectful and grateful regards.
Marcel Proust