Correspondance manuscrite complète d'Henry Miller avec Béatrice Commengé

Henry Miller's complete manuscript correspondence with Béatrice Commengé
Pacific Palisades (CA) 1976-1978 | 23 pages 21 x 29.7 cm
A superb complete set of 17 autograph letters signed by Henry Miller and addressed to the writer Béatrice Commengé, the author most notably of Henry Miller, ange, clown, voyou [Henry Miller: angel, clown, thug] and translator of a number of works by Anaïs Nin. With an autograph envelope addressed by Henry Miller to Béatrice Commengé and an autograph letter signed by Anaïs Nin to Béatrice Commengé.
In 1976, Béatrice Commengé, then a young literature student, began writing a thesis on Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller. From her home village in the Périgord region, she wrote to both. Nin, who was very unwell, apologized for not being able to help her. Miller, though, let himself be seduced at the outset by the idea of exchanging letters with an inhabitant of Domme, the village whose beauty he had lauded in The Colossus of Maroussi. Very quickly, impressed with the student's style and determination, he entered into a correspondence with her that would last until – two years before his death – Miller's eyesight broke down completely, preventing him from reading and writing.
At this time, Miller, then 85, was living almost as a recluse in Pacific Palisades in California, rejecting the American way of life and its illusions, and dreading all-too frequent offers and invitations. But the old writer was very quickly charmed by Commengé's outlook on his work: «You are a gem! One of the very few ‘'fanas'' to understand me. Merci! Merci mille fois!» he writes in his second letter. A true epistolary friendship then develops between the ageing writer and his young muse: «I think of you as some sort of terrestrial angel», and «what a delight to get a letter from you»; «Keep writing me, please!»
In passionate letters that are written and re-written, with their English mixed with French, words underlined, copious brackets and exclamation points, and post-scriptums squeezed into the margins, Miller examines his work and his memories. He refuses a purely academic correspondence, «To be honest with you, I don't think either A.N. or I, who are naturally very truthful persons, really succeeded with truth as it is conventionally thought of. We are both confirmed ‘fabulators'.» Miller recommends the young woman the books he's been reading recently and his old friends: «[Lawrence] Durrel is the friend to talk to about me, [...] he knows me inside out»; «[he] is wonderful when you get to know him. éblouissant même»; «that great master of the French language – Joseph Delteil»; «Delteil is almost a saint. But a lively one,»; «Alf[red Perlès] is the clown, the buffoon, who made me laugh every day».
He goes on to congratulate her on abandoning her didactic project in favor of an «imaginary book about [him]» and launches on a much more intimate correspondence. He confesses his shock, as well: «Did you read about the French prostitutes protesting and demonstrating in Paris against my receiving [the legion of honor]? They say I did not treat them well in my books. And I thought I had!!». He also shares his literary tastes: «I prefer the Welsh. They are the last of the poets».
He also warns the future translator of Anaïs Nin against his former mistress' duality: «She is or was a complete enigma, absolutely dual. [...] Actually, I suppose there is always this dichotomy between the person and the writer», and confides to her her secrets: «she is slowly dying (of cancer) she refuses to admit it. (This is entre nous!)». He also discusses his latest loves: «I am in love with a very beautiful Chinese actress [...]. I seem to go from one to another, never totally defeated, never wholly satisfied. But this is near ‘eternal' love as I've never been.»
Indeed, despite his advanced old age, the author of Sexus has lost nothing of his passion for the fairer sex and his correspondent's being a woman is not lost on this Don Juan: «On est curieux – êtes-vous belle etc., je crois que oui. En tout cas je vous prie de m'envoyer une photo, S.V.P. [One is curious – are you pretty, etc? I think so. In any case, please send me a photo]». From the first year of their correspondence on, it is in the language of Molière – and Sade – that Miller presses his «chère Béatrice»: «Did you see the movie ‘In the Realm of the Senses' that they're showing in France, but not in Japan or here in America? The French pretend that it's an erotic movie, but in my opinion it's just pure pornography! I must stop there – I'm expecting someone for dinner. A real beauty!». Then, in the following letter, he writes, «if you have another photo do please send it to me».
But in the final letters, the tone is more downbeat, given the declining health of the author, and the letter dated the 25 January 1978 is superb but terrible testimony of an artist become too weak to practice his art taking an acerbic look at his own condition, as well as that of humanity itself: «Some days, I bang out a few memorable lines or have great ideas (never realized) for future books»; «c'est la grande foutaise, if that's the right word [It's not worth a damn]»; «we are about to relive the last days of Rome. There is no hope – only to rejoice in the end. It needs another order of mankind to replace Homo Sapiens. I prefer the life and culture of the Pygmies...»
But Miller nonetheless keeps his sense of humor throughout, right up to the final letter, which he cuts off abruptly, as was his wont, with a sarcastic, phonetic exclamation of: «Enof!»
A superb complete set of one of Henry Miller's last epistolary correspondences, showing the affinity that the old writer at the dusk of his days and a young novelist in the making choose to develop through exchanges that are still seductive for Miller's ardent passions: literature, friends, and women.