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MALLARMÉ Stéphane (1842 - 1898) L.A.S. "Stéphane Mallarmé", Valvins August 20, 1887, to Camille de SAINTE-CROIX| 4 pages in-8 with vignette on last page (paper browned, some splits and fold marks).
Fine commentary on Contempler (Albert Savine, 1887).
"This, like the other, is a particularly scratchy book! The presumptuous genre that wanted to replace the poem and everything, without the prodigious shortcuts of thought and verse, or the novel, is deflating, and clear-sighted writers are bringing their prose back to the Memoirs, which alone preserve its grace and primitive force. You seem to me to be of the moment even in this, with ancient sounds of literary terroir possessed almost single-handedly by you!
In particular, whatever life you give to your so interesting figures, we feel that, when the pages are finished, they depend on a book, while at the same time being, to the point of a miracle, the greatest glory of the written word, which they don't have the impudence to deny in order to wallow in our very selves. This is what is subtle! I mean that we enjoy at the same time, and in an excellent proportion, your high powers of recreation and your rare qualities of style, so much in the very genius of the language and masterfully rhythmic, all of which are one: this act of writing, of which you speak in your preface and which is the other human act than loving!"...
Correspondance (ed. B Marchal), n° 834, p. 651
Fine commentary on Contempler (Albert Savine, 1887).
"This, like the other, is a particularly scratchy book! The presumptuous genre that wanted to replace the poem and everything, without the prodigious shortcuts of thought and verse, or the novel, is deflating, and clear-sighted writers are bringing their prose back to the Memoirs, which alone preserve its grace and primitive force. You seem to me to be of the moment even in this, with ancient sounds of literary terroir possessed almost single-handedly by you!
In particular, whatever life you give to your so interesting figures, we feel that, when the pages are finished, they depend on a book, while at the same time being, to the point of a miracle, the greatest glory of the written word, which they don't have the impudence to deny in order to wallow in our very selves. This is what is subtle! I mean that we enjoy at the same time, and in an excellent proportion, your high powers of recreation and your rare qualities of style, so much in the very genius of the language and masterfully rhythmic, all of which are one: this act of writing, of which you speak in your preface and which is the other human act than loving!"...
Correspondance (ed. B Marchal), n° 834, p. 651