The Hall of Uselessness: Collected Essays (New York Review Books Classics) (73 page)

149
. For instance, the Tiny Lady described how Schlumberger read aloud his new novel to Gide continuously over two days; these sessions were followed by Gide’s very frank criticisms (“The book does not succeed in catching our interest,” etc. . . .). The Tiny Lady commented: “The entire discussion was carried out in a completely fraternal spirit, without any artifice, without any touch of vanity—the whole feeling was so pure.” (
PD
2, p. 429.) On another occasion, it was Martin du Gard’s turn: he read
Les Thibault
for ten days—sometimes at the rate of nine hours per day! Once again, criticisms, however severe, were proffered and taken in a spirit of mutual emulation, with literary perfection as common aim. (
PD
2, pp. 537–8.) Both Schlumberger and Martin du Gard wrote very harsh letters to Gide at the time of his communist infatuation. Gide immediately telephoned Schlumberger to thank him, and he showed Martin’s letter to the Tiny Lady, adding: “Isn’t this an admirable letter? . . . Such force, such breath! . . . And I feel that he is right on many points.” (
PD
2, p. 299.)

150
. Martin du Gard was very much Gide’s junior, both in years and in literary achievements; yet he received the Nobel Prize for literature ten years ahead of Gide. On learning the news, both Gide and the Tiny Lady were positively delirious with joy: “Martin, our Martin has got the Nobel Prize! . . . What happens to us is really fantastic!” (
PD
3, p. 48.)

151
.
Journal
1, p. 805.

152
.
PD
4, p. 213.

153
. See Pascal Mercier, introduction to
Schlum
., p. 22.

154
. “Billet à Angèle,” in
Essais critiques
, pp. 289–93.

155
. Reading
Le Côté de Guermantes
, Gide said: “It is done so well, that it makes me feel a little depressed. In comparison, my own work seems so crude!” (
PD
1, p. 71.)
Sodome et Gomorrhe
, however, greatly upset him: he felt that Proust had slandered homosexuality by reducing it to its effeminate manifestations. (
PD
1, pp. 98–9.) He found
La Prisonnière
exasperating: “It looks as if Proust were parodying Proust and the substance of the book is totally devoid of interest.” Still, he had to acknowledge: “It is of considerable importance for literature. After having read Proust, one can no longer be completely the same person again.” (
PD
3, p. 155.)

156
. And yet was he really blind to Simenon’s limitations? One may doubt it. One day, Simenon, who had lunch with Gide, told him: “The main temptation I should guard myself against is . . .” He searched for a phrase, and Gide immediately suggested: “The temptation to fart above your arse.” “Exactly,” said Simenon. (
PD
3, p. 359.)

157
.
Journal
2, pp. 1,057–8.

158
. “Baudelaire et Monsieur Faguet,” in
Essais critiques
, pp. 248–9.

159
. Criticising some pages by Duhamel, Martin du Gard was induced to extend his observations to the style of Gide himself: “The danger of being able to write well is also the ability to lend a pleasant form to thin or mediocre ideas, to ghosts of ideas . . . It generates the fatal temptation to give a veneer of consistency, density, weight and character to whatever comes to mind and should not deserve to be written down. Through this mechanical operation of style, one can present at little cost an appearance of thought without any effort . . . The shine of the varnish hides the low quality of the wood that was used.” (Martin du Gard:
Journal
3, pp. 527–8.)

Gide had shown Martin a draft of the address he was going to deliver in Oxford, on being awarded a Doctorate
honoris causa
. Martin found that its form was very polished, but the elegance of the style could not redeem the vacuity of the content: “I told it to him very bluntly. He agreed, and for once, I regretted my frankness, for he immediately decided: ‘You are absolutely right! Tomorrow I will send them a telegram, and cancel everything!’ But I believe he will once again change his
mind. As soon as I leave, it will seem to him that his speech was not so bad after all, he will read it again to himself, let his prose sing, and take delight in its subtle phrasing.” Martin guessed right: in the end, Gide went to Oxford and delivered his elegantly hollow speech. (
Ibid
., pp. 810–11.)

Schlumberger once pointed out to Gide a mistake he had made in a translation from Goethe, but he was shocked by Gide’s reply: “I know, I have tried to put it differently, but all my other versions lacked in rhythm.” Schlumberger commented: “I have noted this reaction, as, once again, it shows his constant willingness to sacrifice meaning to form.” (
Schlum
., p. 236.)

The Tiny Lady summed up: “I believe that he attaches so much importance to the question of form, that the question of content ceases somehow to interest him.” (
PD
4, p. 16.) Earlier on, after reading his
Journal
, she put the question to him: “I confess I do not always understand why you select certain things for recording in your diary, whereas you omit other things that should have been equally, or more, interesting. Could it be that your choice is simply determined by the possibility of finding at once a form that is pleasing?” Gide confirmed the accuracy of her guess. (
PD
3, p. 361.)

160
.
PD
4, p. 233.

161
. Paul Claudel:
Journal
1, p. 969.

162
.
Schlum
., pp. 176, 246–7.

163
.
PD
2, p. 376.

164
.
PD
3, p. 78; Sheridan, p. 525.

165
.
Et nunc manet in te
and
Journal
1, p. 1,310; also Sheridan, p. 524.

166
. This was addressed to Madeleine, and she had read it before marrying André. See
Martin
, p. 84.

167
. Account of Martin du Gard (1920), quoted by J. Schlumberger:
Madeleine et André Gide
, p. 186.

168
.
Et nunc manet in te
, pp. 1,128–9; and Sheridan, p. 525.

169
.
Et nunc manet in te
(in the 1960 Pléiade edition of
Journal 1939–1949
), p. 1,134.

170
.
Schlum
., pp. 178–9, 220.

171
. Account of Martin du Gard, quoted in Schlumberger:
Madeleine et André Gide
, p. 191–2.

172
. Account of the Tiny Lady, quoted in Schlumberger,
op. cit
., pp. 196–7.

173
.
Et nunc manet in te, op. cit.
, p. 1,148.

174
.
Martin
, pp. 61–2.

175
.
Martin
, pp. 131–2.

176
.
PD
2, p. 70.

177
.
Journal
1, pp. 798–801.

178
.
Journal
2, pp. 487–8.

179
.
Journal
1, p. 720.

180
.
PD
2, p. 531.

181
. Well described by Sheridan, pp. 445–90. Quotes not otherwise identified here are drawn from Sheridan’s account.

182
.
PD
2, p. 204.

183
.
Schlum
., p. 167.

184
. Martin du Gard,
Journal
2 (27 November 1936), pp. 1,208–9.

185
.
PD
3, p. 198.

186
.
PD
3, p. 201.

187
.
PD
3, p. 205.

188
. Martin du Gard,
Journal
3, p. 404.

189
.
Schlum
., p. 266.

190
.
PD
4, p. 190.

191
.
Schlum
., p. 16. (Quoted from
La Porte est ouverte
in Paul Mercier’s preface.)

192
.
Si le grain ne meurt
, quoted in
PD
2, p. 128;
Journal
1, p. 573.

193
. Martin du Gard,
Journal
2, pp. 232–3.

194
.
Martin
, pp. 96–8.

195
.
PD
2, p. 114.

196
.
Schlum
., p. 368. On that same page, Schlumberger had just noted that Mauriac told him after reading the memoir of Jean Lambert (Gide’s son-in-law), which alluded to the old man’s monomania: “We must face the fact: Gide was truly a sick person, one of those madmen who need to be locked away.” (Once again, it should be recalled that Mauriac was himself a repressed homosexual, and that he had a genuine friendship with Gide.)

197
. Gide’s moral blindness and capacity for self-deception staggered even his closest friends. Martin du Gard tells how Gide’s daughter, who was seventeen at the time, had become the object of the timid sentimental attentions of one of her former teachers. Gide was indignant and wanted to write to the man: “Sir, stop bothering this child. I forbid you to meet her again.” The situation, he said, was “odious.” This reaction bemused Martin: “Our good old Gide has in fact spent all his life committing breaches of trust that were far more severe! How many times did he worm his way into a friendly family, multiplying warm approaches to the parents, with the sole purpose of getting closer to their son—sometimes a thirteen-year-old schoolboy—and of joining him in his room, arousing his sexual curiosity, teaching him sensual pleasure! He was more clever than Catherine’s teacher, more diabolic with his temptations, more daring also. How many times did he succeed in hoodwinking the parents, in securing the complicity of the child, in indulging with him in sweet and perverse games? But then, to his mind, there was nothing ‘odious’ in this premeditated debauching of a young boy, whom his parents had entrusted to his friendly care!” (Martin du Gard,
Journal
3, pp. 361–2.)

198
.
PD
4, pp. 253–4.

199
.
PD
2, p. 406.

200
. Béatrix Beck tells in her memoirs: “Some time after the death of Gide, Dominique Drouin (his nephew) told me that the Tiny Lady had confided to him: ‘I have to fetch a little Annamite for him, and when I cannot find any, I act as a substitute.’ And Drouin added: ‘When you think of these two bags of bones.’ . . . I have a strong visual imagination and I somatise easily: I had to vomit on the spot.” (
Beck
, p. 161.)

201
.
Schlum
., p. 346.

202
.
PD
4, p. 252.

203
. Béatrix Beck, Preface to M. Saint-Clair,
Il y a quarante ans
, p. iv.

204
. Sheridan, pp. 370 and 633.

205
.
Schlum
., p. 96.

206
.
Schlum
., p. 150.

207
.
PD
2, p. 58.

208
. Quoted in
PD
3, p. 16.

209
.
PD
4, p. 204.

210
. Saint Augustine:
Confessions
, X, (xxiii) 34: “Sic amatur veritas, ut quicumque aliud amant, hoc quod amant velint esse veritatem, et quia falli nolent, nolunt convinci quod falli sint. Itaque propter eam rem oderunt veritatem, quam pro veritate amant.”

1
.  In November 1996, on the twentieth anniversary of his death, Malraux was awarded the form of immortality which the French nation bestows upon its most illustrious cultural heroes: his mortal remains were moved with great pomp into the Pantheon in Paris.

2
.  
La Tragédie de la révolution chinoise
, translation by R. Viénet (Paris: Gallimard, 1967).

3
.  J. Andrieu, “Mais que se sont dit Mao et Malraux?” in
Perspectives Chinoises
, No. 37, October 1996. (An abridged version of this article was published in
Le Nouveau quotidien
, Lausanne, 3 December 1996.)

4
.  G. Duthuit,
Le Musée inimaginable
(Paris: José Corti, 1956). Duthuit pointed out, with great scholarly accuracy, the countless historical howlers in Malraux’s
Musée imaginaire: les voix du silence
. He also exposed his hollowness, obscurity, logical non sequiturs, and other factual mistakes. His demonstration (in two volumes of text and one volume of illustrations) was brilliant, rigorous and devastating—but it reached only a small circle of specialised scholars.

5
.  B.Chatwin,
What Am I Doing Here?
(London: Picador, 1990), p. 133.

6
.  
The Nabokov–Wilson Letters 1940–1971
, ed. Simon Karlinsky (London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1979), p. 175.

7
.  J.-P. Sartre,
Lettres au Castor
(Paris: Gallimard, 1983), Vol. 2, pp. 159, 167, 163, 192.

8
.  Letter to Roger Nimier, 8 January 1953 (in Jacques Chardonne–Roger Nimier,
Correspondance
, Paris: Gallimard, 1984, p. 91.) Two samples of Malraux’s
galimatias
(out of possible hundreds) are provided by Curtis Cate (p. 372): “The language of Phidias’ forms or of those of the pediment of Olympia, humanistic though it is, is also as specific as that of the masters of Chartres and Babylon or of abstract sculptures, because like that of the great Italians of the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries, it simultaneously modifies the representation and its style.” Or again: “Between Cézanne’s
Still Life with Clock
, which strives only to be a painting, and his canvases which have become a style, there resurfaces the call which raises up Bach over and against negro music, and Piero della Francesca over and against barbarian arts—the art of mastery, as opposed to that of the miracle.”

9
.  B. Souvarine,
Staline
(Paris: Champ Libre, 1977), pp. 11–12.

10
. R. Stéphane,
André Malraux: entretiens et précisions
(Paris: Gallimard, 1984), p. 91.

11
. C. Cate,
André Malraux: A Biography
(New York: Fromm, 1997).