Marcel Proust (1871.1922)
Autographed letter signed to Georges de Lauris.
Three pages in-12°. No place [shortly after February 18, 1907]
Kolb, Volume VII, pages 87-88.
"The eyes of memory eventually stop seeing anything when you stare at them too much.". »
Proust offers his friendly support to Lauris after the death of his mother and remembers the loss of his own.
_______________________________________________
"My dear Georges, It is important that I reply immediately to your letter, for which I can never thank you enough, because, however incapable I may be of writing at this very moment (I will explain a thousand things to you), it is essential to clarify two points. The first concerns what you say about the images of your mother in your memory. Right now, I know it's easier said than done, but don't try to see her, for you will only ever see her in a very sad light, ill, perhaps dead, and above all, if you try too hard, you won't be able to picture her. Mother knew this torment, never seeing her mother again, nor thinking of her, when she wanted to think of her, except in a fleeting moment of sleep, and even then, so cruelly. The eyes of memory eventually see nothing at all when one stares at them too intently ." Right now, just try to live, to survive, letting all this happen within you without the collaboration of your will, and the sweet images will be reborn on their own, never to leave you again.
The other thing is that when a moral character needs to dominate me, a few details suffice, and I reconstruct everything with certainty. I know your mother so well that you can tell me nothing about her that I don't already know, and you can tell me nothing that I don't listen to—not with interest or sympathy, but with a truly painful longing. Know, Georges, that I never think of anything else anymore, and that my need to see you is, at this moment, primarily a need to hear you speak of her. If you could come to my place early this evening (9:00 or 9:30), I think my night would be calmer. Unfortunately, I am writing to you under the influence of medication that makes my already confused handwriting completely illegible. I hope, however, that you will be able to read my tenderness and my sadness in it. Marcel.