PROUST Marcel (1871-1922) Lot n° 71

L.A.S. addressed to Jacques RIVIÈRE. S.l.n.d. (26 April 1920). 9 pp. in-8 in brown ink. Extraordinary letter criticizing the Nouvelle Revue Française, "tower of babel" filled with "pedantic illiterates!" Within the Nouvelle Revue Française, Jacques Rivière was Marcel Proust's privileged interlocutor. His immediate and deep understanding of the novelist's work amazed the writer, who had richer intellectual exchanges with him than with anyone else. It is very rare to find such strong criticism from the pen of Marcel Proust: "Forgive me, in spite of my extreme tiredness, for telling you my opinion of the Review with a frankness in which you will feel that there is only a deep friendship. I have complimented you enough on the last few issues to tell you that, having bought the April issue the day before yesterday, it appeared to me like a Tower of Babel which should be a Tower Prend Garde for the future, if it is not already a very lean Tower. (...) Between us, what a lot of babbling about painting, psychology, music, which gives the sensation of a terrible amateurishness. I don't remember if it is M. Allard or M. Durieu de la Carelle [Drieu la Rochelle] (who proliferate a lot in this issue) who should be accused, but I would prefer an article of frank complacency, of admiration out of friendship for someone who doesn't deserve this admiration (like Baudelaire's dedication to Gautier etc. etc. and Nerval's to Dumont). etc. and Nerval to Dumas) than to see sincerely, without partiality, speaking thus of Espinas as of a great man, of Gyp, of everyone, for whom are we not speaking of! One feels the incompetence for Vermeer, for Debussy, eyes not to see, ears not to hear. A parade of proper names to compose a dictionary and drawn by lottery. A review only has the right to be closed and doctrinaire if those who speak in it know what they are talking about. In what way is such and such a sentence by M. Durieu de la Rochelle on Paul Adam more 'in French' than those, rightly incriminated by Allard, by Bataille. (...) Dear friend, it's silly to write you this, which is none of my business, but friendship, allow me to say tenderness, has its duties, and you would do better (although I don't approve of this entirely either) to call on real talent, even if it is hatched outside the N.R.F., you would do better to publish real works (e.g. remarkable translations, a substitute for Allmeyer's Folly) than to pile up these inconsistent and peremptory notes. Mr. Lhote may have narrow ideas (which I do not find), he knows what he is talking about. When Blanche described the studio and the palette of Fantin and Manet, he was learning something. But the hollow formulas of pedantic illiterates! (...)»