But even well before the War I was overwhelmed with worries. First, I was more or less completely ruined, which I found extremely painful. But shortly afterwards my poor secretary was drowned by falling from an aeroplane into the sea.12 And the immense sorrow I felt, and that still endures, has prevented me from thinking about material troubles, very small next to an emotional trial. You knew him perhaps by sight because he lived in my home with his wife. But what you could not know is the superior intelligence which was to his, and extremely spontaneous since he had had no schooling, having been until then a simple mechanic. Never did I better understand the profoundness of the saying ‘The Spirit bloweth where it listeth.’13 The part of your letter in which you spoke of Clary is not that part which gave me the least pleasure, pleasure mingled with pain since you tell me he is still unwell.14 He is a truly rare person, I have a very profound affection for him; I think he does not believe it because for reasons which involve on my part more delicacy than he supposes, I have not expressed it to him. But there is no one whose company I have found sweeter. I never see him and I think constantly of him. I do not know if he has received my book, I sent it to him when it appeared (this is not a reproach for the fact that he has not written to me, he is unwell and excused for everything). But I do not know if the address was correct. And my memory is so fatigued by my drugs that I cannot even manage to specify whether that book did not come back to me, or if it is a hallucination of memory. In any case what I am sure of, is that I sent it. Often I would like to write for very selfish reasons. [Word missing] to speak of his health. I’m afraid [of] failing to mention a regimen […] that would perhaps very quickly restore [his] health. I have known people who […] spoiled their lives, always prey [to] attacks of rheumatism until the day [when some] astonishingly simple prescriptions […] rigorously observed relieved them and made them regret the time they had lost.15 I would like to know if before treating himself, Clary saw, even once, a great ‘diagnostician’. For example Doctor Faisans.16 I know Clary to be very withdrawn, very reserved, and it is this that has stopped me from speaking to him about that. But since you speak to me about his health, you will give me great pleasure if you tell him that it concerns me very much. I hope that your own is completely good Madame. The Doctor was good enough to leave his card one day at Cabourg. Would you have the extreme goodness to tell him that starting on that day I tried to go and find him at Deauville Trouville. But automobiles could not go out after 6 o’clock. And I could not manage to leave early enough. One day I succeeded, but on that day it was impossible to find an automobile. If I had not had the plan to go to see him postponed day after day, I would have written to him right [end of the letter is missing]
[October 1914?]
Madame,
Please permit me to appeal to you and the Doctor for tomorrow Tuesday regarding the noise (early). I had to go out today in extremely dangerous health conditions and I very much dread tomorrow. —. If in a little while I am better I would be happy to talk to you about Clary. I have learned through some friends very dear to him one thing which I tell you in confidence for it is a very delicate subject but one which makes me very happy because I believe that this may be for him a great consolation: I mean an awakening of a profoundly religious life, an ardent and profound faith.
Your very respectful
MARCEL PROUST
About Clary, I ask you not to speak of this at least for the moment.
[autumn 1914]
Night of Wednesday to Thursday
Madame,
Through the grace of generosity – or a play of reflections – you lend my letters some of the qualities possessed by your own. Yours are delicious, delicious in heart, in spirit, in style, in ‘talent’.
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