Letters to Sartre Page 21
Kos. has paid 400 F. to register. If I have to reimburse her, I’ll just get through the month. If not, and if I live off 50 F. a day, allowing 300 F. for Bienenfeld’s trip there’ll be 400 F. left over. But 50 F. a day is tight, because when I take the Kos. sisters out it’s me who pays. At the end of term I’ll get my extra hours, which is just as well since I’ll use that to pay my taxes. There you are, my love. Yesterday I was happy, I had wings, everything seemed wonderfully satisfying. This evening I’m a bit empty and dazed. But I know I’ll regain that happiness once I feel better. My love, my dear little husband — how well I recall that Boeuf Noir inn188 where we sat side by side talking, and all the tender things you said to me. That’s with me always — it never leaves me. And you’re constantly with me, and you speak to me, my sweet little one.
I love you passionately
The Beaver
[Paris]
Wednesday 8 November [1939]
My love
I’m really tired again this evening — but for good reasons. I had a studious day, as you’ll see. If every day was like that, things would be perfect — that’s because it was my day off.
[...]
I am on excellent terms with Kos. — she’s studying Bergson diligently for several hours a day. She was flattered by my telling her your opinion about her theme for a story — but she’s not working on it. Wanda seems to be seriously dreaming of going to see you. She has some idea of procuring false papers from some fellow of Arlette Menard’s — a crooked policeman — but I told Kos. to be sure and dissuade her from that. Perhaps he’ll use his influence, though, to help her get real papers.
I learnt yesterday from Jolibois that Gibert’s a teacher in Argentan, which caii’t be much fun. I asked Jolibois about it just so I could tell you, but then I forgot. I thought it was a bit indelicate of me to ask her that, but she didn’t seem too shocked.189
I’ve had a letter from a pupil whom I met for an hour last year, when Bienenfeld was ill — I don’t know if you remember, but we found the letter she wrote at that time amusing. This time she wrote saying that she’d like some advice on her work, ‘but I must confess, in all sincerity, that it is only in order to see you and hear you that I shall be coming. The only reason why I am trying my luck in this way is the great admiration I have for you.’ I’ll see her for half an hour, but really there aren’t enough minutes in the day.
I’m expecting Bienenfeld tomorrow, although I haven’t heard from her. I’ve sent her 200 F. I don’t find the prospect enjoyable in the least, but I imagine I’ll be glad once I see her.
Yesterday in bed I started the Ellery Queen, which seems less good than usual. You’ll have it soon.
Now I’m off to bed and to sleep. I love you so much, my sweet little one. I think I’ll have a letter from you tomorrow. As from today, I’m going back to waiting to see you again — since I can already feel your absence now. My dear love, you’re so much richer than any memory. I can’t replace you, even with the most violent passion — it’s the flesh-and-blood you I need. But I’m not unhappy — I love you so much. As I fall asleep I’m going to reread all your latest little letters. Goodbye for now, my dear, dear love
Your charming Beaver
Le Dôme
[Paris] Thursday 9 November [1939]
Dear little being
You’ll get only a little note this evening, since I’m writing to you at Bienenfeld’s side before leaving for Agnes Capri’s place. I went dutifully to bed last night and rose at 8, so that I could work on my novel from 8.30 to 10. I went to school, and at 12.30 on my way out I spotted Bienenfeld in the hall, while Sorokine was waiting for me somewhere else. B. told me she’d return at 4 and I shouldn’t stand Sorokine up, so I took S. by Métro to the Latin Quarter. [...] I walked down to the Mahieu, where I saw Levy, Kanapa, Lamblin and Bienenfeld — whose cheeks began to tremble with emotion. I took her home with me — she was in an indescribable (and frightful) state, nerves on edge and pathetic. She has given up any idea of going to see you, and indeed I dissuaded her from doing so. She’s reckoning to come and settle in Paris, or at least hoping to do so, at the end of the month. That’s going to complicate my life dreadfully, and when your leave comes it’ll mean hiding twice over. I went to warn Kos. that I wasn’t going out with her — she took it very well, and couldn’t be sweeter. Apparently Delarue began by joining the officer-cadet squad — hoping to gain time — but now has found another arrangement which gains him still more, though leaving him as an ordinary soldier. He has written another letter, slightly less downcast — and at all events is going to write to you. Kanapa has passed his three exams, and Levy his one. They’re going to write to you too — they’re furious that Geoffroy190 has already done so.
We spent two hours in my room, then dressed to go out. My feelings for B. haven’t altered since I talked to you about them, and those first hours did nothing to change them. But I think I’m going to enjoy myself a bit.
I hate writing to you like this. Tomorrow I’ll save a little hour for myself, but I’m afraid it may be difficult. I’ll divert her attention by getting her to read your novel.
Goodbye, my sweet little one. I’m hoping for a letter from you tomorrow, which I’ll go off to pick up secretly. I love you — love you passionately.
Your charming Beaver
Chez les Vikings
29 and 31 Rue Vavin
[Paris] Friday 10 November [1939]
Most dear little being
I received your letter this morning. I shan’t file this one in the big yellow folder at school, I’ll keep it in a secret pocket in my bag and I think I’ll read it every day. I love you. I love you, and feel your love as strongly as I feel my own — we’re as one. You can’t imagine how calm and strong that makes me. I’m happy. Never, never, have I felt so fully merged with you and alone with you in the world.
Yesterday, after writing to you, we went to Agnes Capri’s place. I’ve charged Bienenfeld with telling you all about that — it was very entertaining. Then we went back to the hotel and she slept in my room (without letting on to the Kos. sisters). We had a passionate night — the strength of that girl’s passion is incredible. Sensually I was more involved than usual, with the vague, lousy idea (I think) that I should at least ‘take advantage’ of her body. There was a hint of depravity, that I can’t quite put my finger on, but which I think was simply the absence of affection. It was the awareness of having a sensual pleasure without affection — something that has basically never happened to me. We slept well actually, and this morning went for breakfast to the Versailles, after which I went to pick up your letter. Then I went to meet Kos. at 11.30 at the Capoulade. She was in a corner, all of a pickle because she hadn’t been able to find her lectures at the Sorbonne. Now that Bienenfeld has taken charge of me and is oppressing me, Kos. is taking on something of the attraction of forbidden fruit — and I found her seductive and charming. We had lunch at the bar in the Capoulade, and she told me little stories about Delarue, Tyssen, and Lexia — since she’d spent yesterday evening with Lexia, who’d told her lots of stuff. Apparently Delarue is impotent, or a virgin, according to a mysterious statement of Lexia’s which basically corroborates what Gibert told us about him. It also seems that Dullin — according to what Tyssen told Lexia — had such ‘scatological’ (a term of Lexia’s which I fear is merely the equivalent of ‘obscene’) relations with Tyssen that Lexia wasn’t willing to repeat them. It also seems that Tyssen thought she was pregnant and put on a big show, begging L. to help her and saying: ‘Help me, because I’m so little, I’ve no experience. Look at my poor little hands and my little feet, and my throat’s so little I can’t even swallow a pill, and I’m so pure in spite of everything, I’m just a little child!’ — it was all so excessive that she seemed really crazy. Kos. recounted all this to me. I told her I wouldn’t be able to see her because of Bienenfeld and she was absolutely sweet about it, in a way that didn’t seem put on. She went along with me to school and
we saw Sorokine, who was lying in wait for me but made off when she saw Kos. Kos. laughed, but I was annoyed — I’m really too much the quarry. 3 hours’ teaching, then when I left I hid away in a little cafe to write a little note to Bost, to whom I didn’t write yesterday. After that I came and met Bienenfeld at the Mahieu — and found her suffocating. When I told her that I’d see Kos. tomorrow for 1 hour, she almost threw a fit. I couldn’t have felt a stronger reaction against her, and for a few moments was rather harsh. She told me she’d been angry with me for spending money on Poupette, instead of bringing her several times to Paris; and also that she wanted to get me to drop school during her stay. She’s filled with a frustrated craving that I perfectly understand — we’ve often talked about it — but that I find hateful when I’m the victim of it. She’s no longer planning to go and see you. As for your leave, she’s vague about it and I think you’ll easily be able to postpone it from month to month until the next one. I think your first meeting with her will be an indefinite, frantic copulation. I was overwhelmed by her till about 6 in the evening; but then we went back to my room and talked reasonably, and I analysed her psychology to such good effect that she was overcome with admiration. It was well done — one of those synthetic views which you’ve told me I’m good at, and in which I explained the links in her case between self-importance, pathos and seriousness — and between being demanding and self-accusatory — based upon a kind of Platonic idea of the human condition with absolute happiness and a sense of her rights with respect to that ideal. Well, I can’t repeat for you that whole character sketch, which I think correct and which she confirmed to me by lots of little confessions. She practises mental and manual masturbation all day long, and I explained to her that the latter may be all very well, but the former’s disastrous. I worked away assiduously to persuade her as far as possible to accept a life without us, instead of rejecting it; to make her solitude into a strength and seek an emotional independence. She seemed convinced, but it won’t be much use. If she comes back to Paris, it will be a real little cataclysm — a disaster for me. But talking about all that gave me a renewed interest in her, and she listened so docilely that she was really touching. All the same, when I dropped in on Kos. for a moment, to take her some notes,191 and saw her there with Wanda — who was eating prunes and cheese — it was Bienenfeld who seemed like the former mistress and Kos. who held a new romance. We went and had dinner at the Crêperie, and now we’re writing at Les Vikings. My love, what you say about how, together, we could be anywhere at all — that’s so true for me! Anywhere at all — there’s only you in the whole world who count for me. This has to be taken in the fullest sense: neither people, nor places — nothing matters in the least to me. I’d restart a life with you by making a clean sweep of everything — Paris, money, everything — with joy. I need nothing but you and a bit of freedom. I love you. I’ll see you again, you who are everything to me and who are also yourself, o littlest of all charms, little all-charm, little charm-all I’ve retained your smiles and your dear expressions. And I’m so happy, because I’ve nothing to tell you about my love that you don’t know as well as I do, my dear love.
Your charming Beaver
No more jealousy regarding Bienenfeld — that’s quite dead. It’s dead along with my esteem — it was that esteem which used to affect me (I still esteem her, of course, but not as an equal).
I enclose a letter from M.P.192 which amused me — send it back so that I can answer him.
[Paris]
Saturday 11 November [1939]
Dear little being
I’ve had your two letters dated Tuesday and Wednesday — my love, they’re so tender, you’re such a support, I’m so serene when I think about you. I need that support and that serenity at present. First of all, I’m finding Bienenfeld indescribably burdensome, to the point where a shiver of annoyance sometimes escapes me, or there’s a nuance in my voice, which then require explanations and correctives. For example, when she told me she wanted to come for ten days for your leave, and have you for 6 days to herself — or at least 5 — and on top of that make up threesomes, and then take you over on my own days while I’m at school, I argued in the abstract — since that’s not going to happen — but I found that image of you being shunted to and fro between her and me unbearable. I said: ‘Perhaps he should be left to catch his breath for an hour every now and then,’ and she said: To do what?’ She admitted to me that she couldn’t understand how a person could ever wish for an hour of solitude. When I said that threesomes wouldn’t be all that agreeable, during so short a time — and when I also said that it would, after all, be a sacrifice for me (willingly agreed to, I added, but a sacrifice nonetheless) to leave you to her for 5 days — she was extremely surprised. ‘You’ve no sense for threesomes, any more!’, she told me. So I spent the night with her — pretty much a rerun of the previous night, but less involving. This morning: school. On the way out Sorokine was waiting for me, charming as can be, having fled the paternal roof because she’d called her father a ‘filthy bastard’ — in response to insults that included calling her a ‘filthy slut’. She came to ask me for advice and support, but I was scarcely able to give her either, since Bienenfeld was waiting for me in a little cafe, in order to go with me to the Latin Quarter — where I waited for Kos. at the Dupont. Half an hour’s wait, during which I was able to read a detective story — what a marvellous relief! Kos. arrived, as nice as ever. She told me lots of amusing stories about Arlette Menard (Wanda must have told you them), and the end of the story of Tyssen’s pregnancy. One day T. left her room and turned up in Lexia’s, all little joyful airs and brandishing a sanitary towel spotted with blood. Lexia thought Tyssen was trying to insult her and was stirred to the depths of her little rosebud soul — she almost slapped her. Then she saw that Tyssen had placed the cloth in her lap and was showering it with morbid endearments, so she grew rather frightened — at the same time as being disgusted. Kos. went yesterday to her first lectures at the Sorbonne, and they made her a bit gloomy. * She missed them this morning, because of the air-raid warning which had prevented her from sleeping. On Tuesday she’s starting her classes with Dullin at the Atelier again, which I think will change her life. I left her, had lunch with Bienenfeld, then went to pick up your letters. I did tell her I’d got some, but I post-dated them in the account I gave her — which in any case was very cursory. She didn’t ask to see them anyway — I’d have refused. There were also two letters from Bost. He has written me a letter full of ardent affection and understanding, accusing himself of having fulminated against me for two days — I think it was because I’d announced I might visit him, which had annoyed him immensely. He didn’t want me to come — yet I think he rather holds it against me that, once I’d said I would, I didn’t in fact do so. It gave me pleasure in a way, since those were living, warm feelings; but it also annoyed me to think what a touchy little soul he was — and I’m still annoyed. Especially since I slept badly last night, and ahead of me I’ve 24 hours non-stop of seeing Bienenfeld. She’s leaving at 6 tomorrow morning, and I’m waiting for that liberation with every fibre. I think there’s something definitively broken, and I’m a bit frightened about what may ensue. But almost everything she says makes me bristle up. When I let slip yesterday evening that you’d read my diary, she fell into despair because I didn’t have the same intimacy with her I had with you. Yet I’d never said things were on an equal footing, and obviously she should have understood the cases aren’t the same. It took hours of reasoning to get her to accept that, and she remained somewhat bruised.
Wanda must have started writing to you again, I suppose. As I told you, she wanted to get false papers so she could go and see you. Also, she has asked me for your novel to read, and I’ve graciously given her it.