Handsome copy despite the partially shadowed endpapers.
"Je me suis fait Monsieur, une loi de ne rien changer au texte de mes anciens ouvrages, afin que ceux qui les ont achetés autrefois ne soient pas obligés de les racheter aujourd'hui. De là il est arrivé, que j'ai laissé aux différentes personnes chargées de revoir les différents textes le soin de corriger les fautes d'impression. Et mes devoirs à remplir à la chambre des pairs m'ont encore empêché ces derniers temps, de surveiller les épreuves. Je vous remercie Monsieur, de votre intérêt : j'avertirai M. Ladvocat, et s'il le faut, des cartons seront faits et envoyés aux souscripteurs.
J'ai l'honneur d'être, Monsieur, avec toute la reconnaissance possible, et la considération la plus distinguée
Votre très humble et très obéissant serviteur
Chateaubriand" ["I have made it a rule, Sir, to change nothing in the text of my old works, so that those who bought them in the past are not obliged to buy them again today. Hence it has happened that I have left to the various persons charged with reviewing the different texts the task of correcting printing errors. And my duties to fulfill in the House of Peers have further prevented me lately from supervising the proofs. I thank you, Sir, for your interest: I will notify M. Ladvocat, and if necessary, corrections will be made and sent to subscribers.
I have the honor to be, Sir, with all possible gratitude, and the most distinguished consideration
Your very humble and very obedient servant
Chateaubriand"]
Autograph letter signed by Marguerite Yourcenar, dated 23 January 1957, two pages in black ink on a single sheet, with the original envelope included.
On two densely written pages, Yourcenar confides her editorial frustrations to her close friend, the painter Elie Grekoff, recounting the blasphemous act of her publisher, who had torn in "en deux ou plutôt en quatre" [‘two or rather four’] the dedicated copy of her poetry collection Les Charités d’Alcippe (1956) and returned it to her by post. She discusses joint projects with Grekoff and requests that he accept the profits from a work he illustrated for her.
Yourcenar writes from the United States, which she joined in 1939 with her companion Grace Frick, then a professor of British literature in New York. From 1950 onwards, they settled on Mont Déserts Island, bordering Canada, in a house named Petite-Plaisance, which she mentions in the handwritten letterhead. Amidst the wild nature and crystalline lakes, she would write there some of her most celebrated works, including The Abyss. Through the text, we catch fleeting images of the author’s reclusive existence: « Ici, travail abrutissant, favorisé par les grands froids, qui font qu'on ne sort qu'un bref moment, ou quand on y est obligé. Correction d'épreuves, correspondance en retard depuis des mois, traduction, et enfin le livre en train [...] les journaux arrivent très régulièrement, et si vite, dans le cas du Monde, que j'apprends par lui les nouvelles de New York avant d'avoir le temps d'aller au village acheter le New York Times » [“The work here is grueling, compounded by the bitter cold, so that one ventures outside only for a short while, or out of necessity. Proofreading, months of overdue letters, translation, and finally the book underway […] the newspapers come so promptly and consistently, particularly Le Monde, that I hear the New York news from it before I even manage to go to the village and buy the New York Times”.]
The most poignant passage of the letter concerns her stormy dealings with her publisher Curvers, regarding her neoclassical-spirited poetry collection Les Charités d'Alcippe. Yourcenar recounts the publisher’s unforgivable act, enraged by her reproaches over the premature release of the collection: "Toute la légalité (et le sens commun) sont de mon côté, mais cela n'a pas empêché l'irascible liégeois de me renvoyer un ex. des 'Charités d'Alcippe' déchiré en deux ou plutôt en quatre. L'époque est à la violence [‘All legality (and common sense) was on my side, yet that irascible man from Liège still sent me back a copy of Les Charités d'Alcippe, torn in two-or rather, in four. These are times defined by violence.’] “The affair of the gentleman from Liège,” as mentioned in the letter, ultimately resulted in a full-fledged legal dispute through attorneys. The writer’s uncompromising standards and constant concern for copyright earned her several disputes, including two lawsuits—one with the director Jean Marchat, and another with her publisher Plon.
The letter’s recipient, Élie Grekoff (1914–1985), painter, illustrator, and master bookbinder, remained a close confidant of the writer for decades and collaborated with her on several editorial and theatrical projects. Among his contributions, he designed the scenery for her Sartre-inspired play, Electre ou la chute des masques, which premiered at the Théâtre des Mathurins. The letter also bears witness to two of their artistic collaborations: the edition of a Latin classic and of a renowned Hindu poem, the Gita-Govinda, both annotated by Yourcenar and illustrated by Grekoff.
In a few beautifully gracious lines, Yourcenar entreats him to accept the proceeds, probably stemming from the 1956 publication of Laevius’s Bagatelles d’Amour: "merci Elie, et je vous en prie, considérez les trente huit mille qui restent comme vôtres, puisque nous n'en avons que faire en ce moment. Et quand je dis comme vôtres, je ne parle pas seulement comme vous le faisiez, du cas de force majeure, guerre, accident ou maladie, mais aussi en vue de rendre un peu plus commode la vie journalière - provisions de charbon, si l'on peut de nouveau en faire, ou achat de sympathiques conserves et repas au restaurant qui vous éviteront l'ennui de faire la cuisine quand vous préféreriez dessiner". [‘thank you, Élie, and I beg you to regard the remaining thirty-eight thousand as entirely yours, for we have no need of them at present. And when I say “yours,” I do not mean only, as you did, in cases of force majeure, war, accident, or illness, but also to make daily life a little more convenient - coal supplies, if they can be had again, or the purchase of pleasant preserves and meals at a restaurant, sparing you the tedium of cooking when you would rather be drawing’.]
A delightful and copious letter from the first woman to be elected to the Académie Française, confronting her publisher and confiding to a trusted friend her fight to safeguard the integrity of her work.